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CHAPTER3
Elena
The morning of the engagement ceremony, I feel sick to my stomach. It’s a struggle to keep my breakfast down. My father sits at the head of the table, his newspaper laid out before him as he sips on his coffee. If he notices I’ve barely eaten any of my food, or my tumultuous emotions, he doesn’t show it.
I doubt he cares.
He married Letta to Michael Moloney, a man I wouldn’t trust with anything living and breathing.
I’m just a chess piece to him.
Something to cement deals for him.
He doesn’t care for my happiness or even my safety. I resent the fuck out of him for that.
I’m particularly nervous about meeting Kane today because of what my father wants me to do.
Spy.
The risk of getting caught both terrifies me and thrills me. I dread to think what that says about me. Who feels that way about a situation that could see their throat slit? Lunatics, that’s who.
Maybe I am unhinged, but I also know I will do as my father asks. Not just to prove to him that I can, but also because my family needs it. The Frasers are powerful. I’m not stupid. I know this marriage will give us a good alliance, but I know it also elevates the Frasers to godlike status in the city. They have far too many allies in their pockets, which will make them untouchable.
In truth, I’m surprised my father agreed to such a deal. I suspect it was a case of keeping another family from stepping up and cementing their power. Better to be inside the circle than standing outside it looking in. Even if it is a dangerous position we’re in.
I have no doubt the Frasers could crush us. They have the ability to make the Adams syndicate disappear completely. That thought is terrifying.
So, I will marry a man with a reputation as dark as Kane’s. I will try to be happy in my marriage, but ultimately my only desire is to maintain the safety of my family.
After breakfast, I make my way to my room and try to push the engagement ceremony out of my head. As it gets closer to the evening time, my nerves are strung.
My sister turns up a few hours before I’m due downstairs. That eases some of the tension in me, though it also makes my anger return. She’s covered the bruises as best she can with makeup, but I can still see the outline of that fucker’s finger marks on her neck, and her eyes are swollen. There isn’t enough makeup on the planet that could hide that. If my father noticed her bruises, he didn’t comment. Likely he would commend Michael on taking a strong hand to keep my sister in check. My father believes in traditional roles. Women should do as their husband’s command. I was never going to be that compliant. I don’t have it in me. I will do my best not to cause a war between our families though. Even if it kills me to hold my tongue.
I should have murdered him—both Michael and my father.
“Are you nervous?” I slip my gaze up in the mirror to look at Letta, who is standing behind me.
She has given me smoky eyes with heavy eyeliner and rosy cheeks that hide my paleness beneath it. My dress is beautiful. It’s from an Italian designer and was shipped over specially for this evening. It’s dark green and moulds to my body like a second skin. There is a plunging neckline that makes my small breasts seem larger, and a diamond clip that is pushed into my hair on the side of my head. My red hair is curled in effortless loose waves that fall down my back.
I look beautiful.
So different from how I usually dress.
I hate it.
Slowly, I stand from the stool in front of my dresser. My heart is suddenly heavy, each beat a punch to my sternum. “Have you seen him?” I ask.
My stepmother, Margaret, steps forward. “Everyone’s here.”
“What’s he like?”
Margaret gives me a warm smile. Looking at her, it is easy to see why my father chose to marry her after our mother died. She’s pliable and spends her days acting every inch the silent queen at his side. “He’s handsome, Elena. If I were a little younger…”
She’s trying to make me feel better. It doesn’t work. I couldn’t give a shit if he is the most beautiful Adonis on the planet. All I can think about is that I have to marry a man I don’t know the first thing about. I have to let a stranger into my bed. I have to live with him and act as if I don’t want to slit his throat in his sleep.
It isn’t Kane’s fault. He’s as much a victim in this as I am, but he’s easy to direct my hate towards. If I hate him, it won’t be as hard to spy on him.
I glance at my sister, who gives me a sad look. She was in this position just a few short years ago. She is the only person who understands the fear I have, the anxiety. Margaret is easy to love, but she married my father of her own volition. It was not a forced relationship. She wanted him and he wanted her. Ironic that they chose love, but they won’t afford me the same courtesy.
