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Stephen looks at his best friend, my father, and smiles. They’ve arranged this, and I’m about to refuse their plans. My father expects me to want this . . . girl?
“No.” I turn on my heel and head back to the front garden and out to where the car is parked in the enormous driveway. It snakes around a fountain of two angels fighting over a water jar.
“Logan.” My father’s voice halts me for a moment, and I know he’s angry, but I don’t care. This is ridiculous. How can he think I would want her? “When she’s eighteen, she’ll be yours. You can take her as your wife, and even if you don’t love her, there are other ways to ensure you’re happy.”
I spin on my heel to face him. “Like you’ve done? Taking mistresses when mother is at home, waiting for you to return?” My words are filled with venom, dripping violently in the space between us.
“You’re the Prince,” he smirks. “You can do as you wish.” He means that I’ll be stepping into his shoes one day when I’m twenty-one. The asshole King of Chicago named so by his acquaintances who obey him daily.
“I want nothing of yours,” I bite out. Frustration grips my gut, holding it fiercely, and I can’t breathe. I’m never going to be like him. He’ll have to kill me first.
“You know the legacy is there for you. You’re in it by blood,” he tells me. “You will be like me even if you attempt to run away, Logan.”
“I’ll never be a monster,” I rage, turning on my heel and getting into the driver’s seat of my car. I know he’ll track my movements. He’s done that all my life, but this time, I’ll make sure it’s the last time. I’m twenty fucking years old. I’m done being his lackey.
I speed down the drive and out through the metal gates that slide open, allowing me to leave. I’ll be disowned if I don’t obey him, but I’ll make it easy for him. I don’t need him or his blood money.
My grandfather’s inheritance was bequeathed to me after he died, so I have a nest egg just waiting for me to claim it. And I’ll finally do it because I need to get out from under my father’s thumb.
My mind momentarily flits back to the girl. She’s so young, and her life is already being mapped out for her. It makes me feel sorry for her, just for a moment, though. I shove the feeling away and focus on leaving the Oakridge house for good.
That was the last time I was on my father’s radar. But I never stopped thinking about the girl I was meant to take as my wife. The same girl that now lives in a small town where she hides away from . . . something.
Was she given to another? Is that why she’s in this shithole town?
Well, she doesn’t need to hide anymore because she’s mine. She was mine first and foremost, and I’m here to collect. I doubt she’ll recognize me. She was only ten when she first saw me, and it was also the last time she laid her pretty eyes on me.
Back at the hotel, I open my laptop the moment I get into the room and log in. The browser loads and I type in my username and password. With a smile, I see two notifications waiting for me.
SB: I have to admit I’m scared. But I’m also confused at why you’d send me something instead of just introducing yourself. Are you some weird creeper? Like, I mean, are you going to stalk me now? I’m not sure I feel safe. I want to log off here and never return. But you already know where I am.
That’s the end of message one, and I consider her fear for a moment. She should be fearful because it’s dangerous to be talking to anyone online. Doesn’t she know that?
SB: Can we meet in the coffee shop on Main? I’d like to sit down and talk to you face-to-face. Would it be so wrong of us to perhaps see how this is going to go? You’ve found me, so let me know you.
I consider this. Perhaps I can let her know me. Perhaps I can tell her I’m just a random person who is interested in her because we connected on a level that most women can’t with me. But then I realize if she does recognize me, she’ll know I sought her out. I tracked her since the moment she turned eighteen, and then when my contact found out she was on this shitty site, I signed up just to learn more about her.
I never made contact before. I waited, bided my time, and now that I’m here, I’m having second thoughts. It’s not right what I’m doing, but then again, I grew up with a man who will do anything to make money, even if it’s illegal. What about my life is right?
