“Simone, come down here!”

Already halfway down the hall in the west wing, I step left and find my father at the bottom of the marble stairs. He’s dressed to impress today, wearing his best Armani suit, and silk red tie. His dark hair is evenly combed back; not in its disheveled way as if he’s been running his hands through it like normal. The flooring shines as if it was just waxed, the center table in the middle of the room holds fresh roses the handmaids just picked this morning.

“Yes?” I ask, my steps slow and deliberate as I descend toward him.

“It’s time.” My father holds his hand out, gesturing toward the front doors. Pausing my steps, I watch as a tall man walking through the doorway wearing an expensive, no doubt tailored suit. His hands tug on the lapels of his jacket as he looks left before right and walks into our home. His black hair is short and spiked, with more product than a man should have in his hair. His dark features consisting of black eyebrows, and tanned Native American skin, but the lightness in his cheeks conveys he’s not full Indian. He’s a half-blood, as my father would call it. His eyes sweep across the foyer before stopping on me.

A cold breeze crawls across the floor like a surly serpent, coiling around my body before stealing the very breath from my lungs. As if a harbor breaks, a familiar terrorized feeling creeps through my body. One I’ve only felt once in my entire life when I was a little girl.

I force myself to take a deep breath and ignore the sudden chill in the air. My hand on the banister, I slowly take the last step down the grand stairs to shake the man’s hand.

He smiles when I’m near, the smell of smoke and cologne dancing around me like a dark spell.

I play the part my dad has taught me over the years. Smile, and keep the chat simple and to the point. My father is a businessman. Now, when I say the word business, I imagine a big office that overlooks the city, coffee in the morning as you look over your schedule for the day as your assistant rattles off the things you’re behind on. That image is wrong. My dad is a businessman of many outlawed tastes, ones that are dangerous and lethal. His day consists of overlooking who owes us money, who would benefit us financially, and who dies tomorrow. I’ve been by his side since I was nine learning the ropes of how to be in charge one day. We finance gangs around the border, and charge interest as they get up and running. I’ve been working the books and helping my father decide where to invest since I can remember. Many think women are weak in such a powerful position, so I am constantly challenging myself to stay ahead of the game and prove them wrong. It excites me when people underestimate me. I’ve taken medical classes, learned foreign languages, and I’m always yearning to learn more.

When our clients turn their back on me because they see tits, I show my fangs and suck the life from them and their business. Leaving them lifeless, and at my mercy. I’m not a violent person, I leave that to my guards, but I will drain them financially and leave them on the side of the road on their asses.

I’m not ashamed. I’m taking life and making it mine.

“You didn’t tell me how beautiful she’s become.” The man lifts his chin, his face serious as he devours me with black abyss irises. His voice is rough and husky. The undertones of his voice summoning me as if I was his territory. He’s kind of attractive, but the way he is staring at me as if he owns me distracts me from how handsome he might be. He has a malicious energy about him.

I clear my throat, dropping my hand like a dead weight before he has the chance to make contact. His comment is clearly out of context, and not welcomed. Who is this man.

Just as I’m about to open my mouth to object to his statement, my father cuts in.

“I thought her educational background would be more of interest,” my father pronounces with an irritated state of voice.

My brows furrow. Why isn’t he berating him for speaking to me like that? Why were they discussing me so intently behind my back? Taking my stare from my father to the man, I get the sudden idea that this man is not a normal client of ours.

His dark eyes smile, and my head slowly tilts to the left. He looks familiar, but where have I seen him?

My father coughs, interrupting our staring contest. Blinking myself back to the situation at hand, I run my sweaty hands down my dress nervously.

“Excuse me, but what is going on here?” The bitch in my voice painted on thickly.

“Simone.” My father steeples his hands as if he doesn’t know how to speak to me. This is a first, he and I always tell one another everything without hesitation. Little hairs on the back of my neck stand. Something isn’t right.

“Father?” My words meek and unsteady. My cheeks flush with warmth as I become vulnerable for the first time since becoming a woman.

“Don’t you remember Veer?” Dad tilts his head to the side. His thick brows matching the frown on his lips.

My spine straightens, the breath in my throat catching as fear cuts through my chest like a hot knife in cold butter. I remember him, all right, I had nightmares about him for over a year.

An incredulous laugh wracks my body. I’m terrified and entertained at the same time. I harbored every flint of terror I had for this man through many therapy sessions my mother set up as a child. The fear I felt when I saw this man walk through my front door today, was the same darkness I felt the day I met him.

They both stand silent, looking at me with blank looks as the reality of what is going on sets in.

“No, this is as real as it gets. You’re a woman now, and it’s time,” Dad explains.

“This- this is not the eighteen hundreds, you can’t just sell me to our enemy!” The words push through my teeth as if I’d just touched a hot pan or a spider just bit me. Opening my eyes, I snap my head toward my father. My face flushed and sweaty from the betrayal circulating the room.

“I’m afraid our feud goes that far back, and nothing is off the table in love and war,” Veer comments, his sentimental statement cutting my skin like a dull razor.

I scoff, and glare in Veer’s direction. I am not a pawn, I’m not ready to marry anyone. Especially a stranger; an enemy. When I turned eighteen, I sat on pins and needles wondering if Veer would come for me, and when he never did… I let out a breath I had been holding since I was eight years old. I never asked my parents about it, and I never thought about it again. Almost as if it would bring the devil to my door if I mentioned his name. Delusional lullabies from books and movies gifted me hope that I was a free woman. Yet, here the villain stands... ready to collect me like a forgotten prize.

“I’m not marrying anyone,” I declare matter of fact. I’ve been so invested in my family’s business and what I’m doing with my life right now, that I’ve never explored my sexuality. I get up early, work until the morning hours, sometimes requiring travel which is from hotel to hotel. At the end of the day, all I can think about is a bath and wine.

How do I even know I want to marry a man?

“Your place in our family is to settle a feud between the Walsh family and ours, Simone. They’ll split territory into the United States with us if our bloodlines cross. Meaning you… marrying into the Walsh family and having a child. I’m getting too old to do this anymore. You need someone to take care of you and giving you to Veer ensures you a wealthy life, and security as well as us.”

I gasp. This is about him retiring.

My stomach clenching with an unbearable cramp as if the thought of holding a Walsh child makes my uterus coil in detest. “It’s what’s best for our future,” my dad says in a near whisper

“Best for our future, or best for you?” My eyes squint pointedly at my father. He opens his mouth to defend himself, but he quickly closes it, and looks away.

I turn away from the two men, my hair falling in my face as I look to the floor for answers. An explanation as to why my dad would do this to me without my consent. Is there a way out of this arrangement?

“I know this is scary.” Veer’s voice cuts through my own thoughts and I close my eyes and reach for the banister for balance. How dare he speak to me. “But, I will make you happy. I will give you everything your heart desires.”

A faint laugh breaks through my highly glossed lips, and I look over my shoulder with glossy eyes.

“Then die,” I grit angrily. Who does he think he is coming in here thinking I would just agree to this. His dark eyes blaze with my disrespect and his hand darts out, catching mine by the wrist. His hand is cold and void of any human warmth as it curls around my own.

“That’s no way to talk to your fiancé, now is it?” he growls. He never even asked me to marry him. I don’t have to look to see my father tense. Clearly, he didn’t suspect this kind of behavior from Veer. I did.

I tear my arm from his and spit on his shoes, my disrespect clear to everyone.

“I’d rather die than be your wife,” I snarl, my nose turned up.

His eyes fall to his shoes with my spit splattered across them, before slowly slipping up my body and catching my gaze like a hooked fish.

Dark ominous eyes dig in my chest and clutch my soul, catching my breath painfully. His shoulders lift as if he’s trying to control his anger in front of everyone. I can see it in his body language. His taut biceps, and curled fists- He’d hit me if we were alone.

Dark eyes that reflect everything he’s looking at telling me I’m right. He’d slap me if we were already married.

Pulling a handkerchief from his pocket he swipes my spit off his shoe and shoves it back in his pocket. His shoulders rolling in an attempt to calm himself.

“How old is she again?” he questions, not taking his eyes off of mine.

“Twenty-five,” my father states with a shaky voice. His forehead beading with sweat.

“She’s feisty, are you sure she’s still a virgin?” Veer looks over his shoulder at my father and my dad just looks at the floor with sad eyes. I can’t contain my reaction as I gasp in horror. Am I still a virgin? Who asks someone’s father that?

My mother steps in behind my father from the dining room. Her pink champagne dress trailing behind her as does her long thick braid down her back. Surely, she won’t let this charade stand for another moment.

“Mother…” The word a mere cry for help to tell me this is just a test or a sick game at best.

“She is untouched… as far as we know,” my mother adds, her hands clutched together in front of her. My mouth drops in dismay. She’s conspiring with them.

Veer looks back at me with wolfish eyes. Ones that tell me he’s going to do very dirty things to me, and I’m not going to like it one bit.

“Because I don’t buy anything used, let alone my women,” Veer adds with an arrogant tone.

“I’ll never let you between my legs.” My thighs squeeze together on their own accord.

“I will be the only one between those legs.” His words a threat more than a statement.

I shake my head, taking a step back to look over the people who see me as an object rather than a human being. My eyes sting with the urge to cry and it unnerves me. I don’t cry. I am Simone fucking Ray!

Turning, I grab the ends of my dress and run up the stairs to my room, the material of my train sweeping around my feet as I flee for solitude. I need away from everyone, a minute to gather my thoughts and find a solution to this.

Slamming the door behind me, I slump to the floor in a pool of silk material.

My giant sleigh bed with pink silk material made perfect, blur behind with my tear-filled eyes. The crystal chandelier hanging from the center of the room blinding me from the reflection of light and crystal.

“Think Simone,” I tell myself, my hand petting the thick strands of tan carpet on the floor. The confidence in my tone lacks for the first time since I can remember. I always have a solution to everything, that’s what I’ve been learning from my father for years now.

The manicured finger of my left hand taps on my trembling chin as chaotic thoughts scramble through my head so fast I can’t pinpoint one. I am Simone Ray. Born to lead, and ruler of my tribe.

I dictate my future, not my blood. My father showed me how to be confident, powerful, and above all else - silently lethal.

I say who I sleep with.

Who I love.

Who I marry!

It won’t be with a Walsh either. The Walshs have fought my family for many years over land to turn gangs over. Starting with building homes to moving drugs. So much blood has been shed between our people, that there’s no way I can turn a blind eye to the slayings of our heritage. Whether it’s for money or settle a feud. I will not be the solution.

He thinks handing me over to the Walsh family will keep me and our future family safe. Maybe he’s right, but I just… I can’t bring myself to do it.

Looking through warm unshed tears, I clench my teeth thinking about him only interested in my innocence. “I don’t buy anything used, let alone my women.”

My eyes widen, the solution coming to light like the sun bleeding through a dark cloud on a gloomy day.

That’s it. I have to void this contract on my own and lose my virginity. Tonight!