by Mason, V. F.
So I smile brightly at my baby sister and grab her hands, stepping back a little, because her sheer pretense makes me see red and want to shout my ass off at her.
How could she be so delusional and believe that I came here of my own free will?
Maybe because to Lucy the world revolves around her, and everyone else is just a mere mortal destined to accommodate her every whim. “Of course. It’s your engagement, after all.”
She nods eagerly and jumps in place, practically shoving her hand into my face. “Have you seen the ring?” I glance at the princess-cut emerald shimmering in the light, and it’s impossible not to notice how the designer carefully placed the green stone in the middle of small diamonds, around the heart shape. Everything about the ring says expensive and love, showing people how much the groom cherishes the bride.
All I got was a ring that spoke nothing. Maybe that should have been my first clue that Kevin’s heart wasn’t truly in it.
“It’s beautiful.” I admire it, rubbing the stone with my thumb. “Suits you.”
“I know right? Kevin!” she shouts to him, and he pauses whatever he wants to say to one of his coworkers who avoids my gaze, because just a week ago, we had dinner with his wife. Still, his discomfort didn’t make him decline the offer to attend the luxurious party. “Come here!”
Kevin does what she says, but his eyes watch me warily, like he expects me to cause a scene or something.
Please, neither of these assholes is worth me jeopardizing my reputation over. Not to mention Darius’s health or Isla’s stability in life.
I can almost hear Grandfather’s voice; Walkers… blah… blah… blah.
Lucy wraps her hands around his waist, and he pats her on the back, although I sense his discomfort in the way he shifts a little and clears his throat. “Everything all right?”
“Giselle is fine with us. She even admired the ring.” Lucy practically sings it, and Kevin’s brow rises, his focus on me now. At least he is not naïve enough to think I’m this forgiving. “I want to dance,” she announces and rushes toward the band playing light jazz music, probably wanting to change it to a more danceable tune.
On that cue, I can leave this party with my head held high and forget it like a bad dream. Surely suffering through their first dance and conversation with them is enough proof for people that I couldn’t care less about this engagement?
“I’m sorry for this, Giselle,” Kevin starts, remorse coating his voice, but he shuts up under my harsh stare.
Keeping my grin intact for everyone to see, I grit through my teeth, “Please spare me the useless apologies. Let’s just pretend everything is fine and dandy for everyone involved.”
“There is so much you—” What he wants to say dies on his lips as his jaw practically drops on the floor when he notices someone or something behind me.
Frowning, I glance back to understand it’s someone, all right.
The stranger from the garden.
“Here you are,” he addresses me, placing his hand on my waist, and I hear a woman gasp next to us. She is quickly typing something on her phone, and I groan inwardly; she’s no doubt gossiping about me on social media. Is this guy famous or something?
The last thing I need is to be social media news before the start of my new job.
“What are you doing?”
Ignoring my words, he nods at Kevin. “Congratulations on the engagement.” And that’s when the first notes of the music sound in the room, snapping everyone’s attention, because who plays a tango in the middle of a party?
Lucy blows a kiss to the band and runs back to Kevin, hooking her arm into his and begging, “Let’s go dance, my darling.”
“A tango?” Disbelief is lacing his tone.
But I don’t hear any more of their conversation, because before I can even blink, the man next to me swirls me around right in the middle of the dance floor for everyone to see.
That’s when the piano changes the tone, and he puts his hand on my waist and holds my hand in his firm hold before leading us in the dance, and I follow him, too stunned not to.
He twirls me from side to side, sliding flawlessly around the floor, all while I dance on my tiptoes, shifting in direction, and our chests brush against each other. “What are you doing?” I hiss breathlessly between the moves we perform.
“Dancing, my love,” he replies right before bending me backward so far that I can feel his breath on my cheeks and then lifting me back up, our raspy breathing filling the space between us.
He pushes me back, still holding my hand, and then twirls me around several times, and I end up in his arms again, my leg hiked over his hip. He swirls us around, picking me up and then placing me back on the floor.
And then he bends me again, and my hands automatically dig into his suit and the palm holding mine as the music slowly dissolves with us frozen, looking at each other. His hazel eyes flash a myriad of different emotions while my heart beats so fast I’m afraid it will jump out of my chest.
For a moment in time, I forget where we are, and no one but the two of us exists in this world, where his body blankets mine and creates a cocoon I don’t want to break.
Because somehow, even though it’s surrounded by danger, it brings protection that soothes some fearful parts inside me.
But then loud applause erupts around us, snapping me out of my stupor, as he slowly drags me up, still breathing heavily. I notice Lucy blinking rapidly while my stepmom just shakes her head.
Only my grandfather doesn’t find it amusing, or shocking. No, pure fury flashes on his face before he turns around and walks off in the direction of the terrace.
The stranger kisses the back of my hand, whispering for my ears only, “Now you are the most desirable woman in this room.” Another light kiss, which sends lightning through me, and goose bumps breaking out on my skin. “But you are mine, Giselle. Always remember that.”
“Wh-what?” I rasp, but he lets me go, steps back, and disappears between the gawking people, becoming a blur in the crowd.
“Oh my God!” Lucy exclaims, appearing next to me and shaking my arm wildly. “I can’t believe you managed to invite Callum MacRae!”
Callum MacRae.
My stranger in the night, the one who basically outright told me I will be his, willingly or not, and danced a tango with me… is my new boss?
Callum
Knocking two times on the heavy oak door, I enter without being invited. The man sitting on the chair behind the spacious table filled with expensive figurines and books snaps his gaze to me, his brows rising while his cigar pauses midway to his mouth. “Who the hell are you?” Well, we’re off to an excellent start.
“Mr. Walker,” I address him, before shutting the door behind me and casually sauntering to the chair opposite him. “I believe we didn’t have the chance to introduce ourselves. Callum MacRae.” I extend my hand to him, holding his stare with mine, and after a beat, he shakes it albeit using a little bit more strength than he should.
I grin at the dominance he is trying to display, because if there is a coward out there… Marvin Walker is the biggest of them all.
“How did you get an invite to my daughter’s engagement?” he asks suspiciously, and I have to admit in this case coward doesn’t mean being an idiot.
Pity really.
What I won’t do for my Giselle is spend more time with her father than necessary. “Mutual friends.” I drop on the chair and only then add, “Remi and Santiago.” His face pales a little when he chokes on the smoke of his cigar.
Oh yeah, they don’t need an introduction.
“I see.” He clears his throat before giving me his whole attention. “What do you want?”
I rest my elbows on the chair arms and take out my own lighter, flipping it through my fingers. “The question is what we both want.” He frowns in confusion, clearly failing to see the point of this conversation. “You won’t be a senator. You don’t have enough money for that.” I light up my
cigarette and don’t miss how this announcement affects him, but he tries to mask it with indifference.
“Politics are not about money,” he says, and my laughter bounces off the walls, startling him a bit as he jumps on his chair.
“Mr. Walker, we are not on national TV now. There is no need to act. You have no means to sponsor your campaign.” He opens his mouth to argue, but my raised hand shuts him up. “You can accomplish only so much with your father’s name until investors know he is not backing it.” His face reddens, and his whole body shakes as he exhales a puff of smoke. I continue my speech. “They probably figured that out already. So if you want to participate in the race, you need money.”
He gets up, slapping his palms on his table. “What is the point of all this?” he seethes, and the situation would have been comical if I found it even an ounce amusing.
But this shit after the engagement party only sours my mood. “Sit down, Marvin. I’m here offering a solution. You might want to listen.” He blinks but immediately follows the command, showing me that his father trained him well. Some people are just born to be led by others. “I have the money. You have something I want. Provide me with it, and the money is yours.”
Even with my money, he won’t win this race; certain people will take care of that. And that makes it the best investment of all.
He claps his hands together and straightens, clearing his throat again, and the sound starts to annoy my ears. “Why do you want to help me?”
I sigh, shaking my head at this guy. “Are you deaf? I don’t want to help you. I want what you have, and I’m willing to pay for it.”
“But what do you want?”
My eyes travel to his table, where a framed picture sits of him, his wife, and his two daughters, with the Eiffel Tower glistening in the background. Must be from one of their regular trips to Paris. He notices my stare, so I pick it up and point at the photo, flipping the front to him. “I want your daughter.”
“Lucy?” he asks, a horrified gasp leaving him. My brows furrow.
Why the fuck would I want Lucy? “Giselle,” I say, not expecting much difference to my statement, but there is.
He blinks and then nods. “Ah, Giselle. Yes, what do you want to do with her?” Fury slowly creeps into every corner of me, burning my blood and awakening the monster inside me that demands a victim.
My hands itch to grab a knife or other weapon to punish Marvin Walker for so eagerly reacting to the news instead of defending his daughter.
Why is he not protecting her?
But more importantly, why do I care he doesn’t protect her? Shouldn’t I be glad?
I’m fucking not though, if it means Giselle was pushed aside in her life in favor of her younger sister, who, based on my research, is a fucking nutcase. I’ve never ever spoken to her, let alone anything else.
“I want to buy her. She’ll be mine to do with as I please.” He gapes at me in shock, so I lean forward, because I don’t want him to miss one word. “She will be like my personal doll. Mine and only mine, with no chance of escape.”
“I don’t understand. She is not property you can buy.”
I grin, resting my back against the chair again, and ask, “Isn’t she? We both know you can control her.” At least that’s what he thinks, when in truth the only person who controls her every move is Alfred Walker.
Love is always a powerful weapon, and Giselle’s love for Darius ultimately became her downfall.
In more ways than she anticipates.
He shakes his head, mumbling, “No, she is a grown person, and she…. No.” He squeezes his hands together then fights with his thumbs. “What you’re asking is impossible.”
So there is a conscience lying somewhere hidden inside that human?
Deciding to check that, I put the cigarette in my mouth and extend my two hands as if waiting for something. “Here is your campaign. The chance to become a senator. Achieve all the things your father thought you’d never be. You even suffered a marriage to get to that.” His eyes widen at this information, but I pay no attention to that. “And here is your daughter. A result of an affair, a mistake of your youth that you can never forget. She’ll be mine, living in luxury. The only difference is… I will have all the rights to her.”
The clock ticktocks loudly in the following silence while Marvin Walker chooses between his own greed and his love for his daughter, as his life probably flashes in front of his eyes.
Knowledge of human psychology though gives me the answer to my question before the words slip past his lips. “Okay. How do you want to proceed with this?”
Greed always wins.
Because humans are selfish creatures who only seek their own desires, which allows me to make such unselfish and somewhat weak people like Giselle pawns in our chess games, controlling their lives like they are our own.
A lesson we all learn sooner or later.
Chapter Seven
Paris, France
One year ago
Giselle
Gasping at the magnificent Eiffel Tower shimmering in the night from all the lights displayed on it, I quickly take out my camera and snap a picture, mesmerized by its beauty.
The tip of it almost touches the starry sky, it seems, creating a link between earth and the universe, giving us one of the most gorgeous architectural buildings ever accomplished.
I sway on my feet a little, almost wanting to go upstairs to gaze at the city from that height, but I restrain myself.
I’ve seen it a billion times with the constant trips my father has made us do as a family. I should just follow my plan and check out the hidden Parisian shopping spots that might have some interesting additives to mix into soil, allowing my orchids to flourish better.
Or that’s what the sales lady in New York told me anyway, claiming the type of orchid I need might only be here.
I found her words weird, but it gave me an excuse to visit Paris, so I didn’t complain.
Especially with the madness back home, where Dad wants to be a senator, my stepmom’s plastic surgery went to shit, and Lucy’s affair with a married man blew up in the press.
Needless to say, a getaway was a must.
Sighing once again at the beauty of the Tower, I spin around to go to the market, and I bump into someone’s chest and bounce back, almost falling on my butt. The stranger’s strong arms catch me in time. “I’ve got you,” he says in English, and I throw my head back, studying him.
He has blond hair, and a dimple on his right cheek that gives him a boyish expression. His body is muscled, but more importantly, he doesn’t have an ounce of dominance in his aura.
Instead, he feels warm and friendly.
Exactly what I go for in men, because they are safe and steady. They don’t have the capacity to hurt anyone. “Sorry. Are you all right?” he mumbles, and then tries in French, “Excuse moi, est ce que vous etes bien?”
“I’m fine.” His eye widens at my English, and I give him a tentative smile. “It’s my fault anyway. I’m naturally clumsy.”
His gaze sweeps over me, and he grins. “Somehow it’s hard to believe.”
I remove myself from his arms and shift awkwardly. “I’m gonna go to the market now.”
He points behind with his thumb. “The florist one.”
“Yes, how did you know?”
“My grandmother loves orchids. She asked me to buy stuff for her.” He picks up a sticky note from his back pocket. “Seeds of Cats… Cats…” He hums in frustration, ruffling his hair with his hand. “Cata—”
“Catasetum,” I finish for him, taking pity on the poor guy who’s probably never even read anything on orchids.
His face lights up and he nods. “Exactly.” He rubs his chin and steps back. “Do you by any chance know anything about them?”
I smile, pointing my flower dress. “Why? The clothes gave me away?”
“Kind of.” He winks and then motions to the road leading to the market. “Shall we? I promise to be o
n my best behavior.”
I look at him and see nothing but a friendly stranger who probably really needs company in this foreign country. His clothes and everything else about him don’t seem high class or pretentious like most of the guys in our society.
All in all, he is exactly the type of the man I could go for, and is miles away from the ones I avoid. If I have an opportunity to spend this vacation with someone nice, shouldn’t I grab it with both hands and enjoy it?
After all, life sucked lately, so maybe this is my compensation for it. “Sure. Lead the way.”
“Awesome.” He gives me a thumbs-up and then introduces himself. “Name’s Kevin, by the way.”
“Giselle.”
We both walk off in the direction of the market.
At the time, I didn’t know there was a man watching us, tracing my every move and expression thrown at Kevin.
I didn’t know how his hands fisted and how he wanted to punish me for even considering this guy worthy of my attention.
But the man stood hidden in the dark, allowing me to choose this seemingly perfect guy as my future fiancé.
So with time he can punish me for daring to look at another man.
Giselle
Turning the key soundlessly in the lock, I almost start a victory dance and quickly enter, doing my best to close the door as quietly as possible. I press my hand on the wood and exhale heavily, allowing the tension to slip from my shoulders that settled there after Grandfather’s order.
The bright light above me switches on, almost blinding me for a second, and I scrunch my eyes to see Isla leaning on the kitchen counter as she studies me from head to toe. “Look who’s home!”
“Why are you not asleep?” I ask, wincing under the harsh light. I spin the dimmer switch and sigh, because the dimmed kitchen light is enough for me.
