by Keta Kendric
Bam! Bam! Bam! Again, a loud knock sounded. Who the hell?
Why weren’t they ringing the doorbell? The white-lit circle next to the doorframe wasn’t hard to miss. I lumbered to the door, not in the mood to talk to anyone. The idea of taking my packed bags and fleeing to Mexico bubbled to the surface of my brain. The idea ignited a peppery spark and the person at my door was about to reap the benefits of my attitude.
On my toes, I placed my right eye to the peephole. Once I got a glimpse of the guy, I dropped back to my feet and stood, staring at the thick door in front of me. There was no way in hell I was opening my door to an unknown Caucasian man who appeared to have just escaped a super-max prison.
He was at least six-eight and about as wide as my door, with a thick dark beard that matched his short hair. His wide eyes had stared unblinking into the peephole, waiting for me.
“Ma’am, the name’s Sam. Arjen sent me to escort you and see if you needed help. Said you’re moving in today.” His voice projected loudly through the cracks of the doorway.
How the hell had he gotten into my gated apartment complex and the building?
I’d prepared to drive to the location myself once I found the courage to leave my apartment, but it appeared my stalling had come to an end. I stood in place as uncertainty filled me with doubt about the path I was set to embark on. It was too late to pretend that I wasn’t home, the man had already spotted me peeking at him. I prayed.
God, please get me through this. Please take my hand as I start my walk through the valley of the shadow of death because this man outside my door looks like he is on a first-name basis with the devil. Amen!
Due to living life as an Evans, Psalm 23 was one that Mecca and I prayed often. The visible shake in my hand caused me to fumble with the lock as I was assuredly opening my door for the devil’s nephew.
The alarming whine that came from the door as it creaked open didn’t help my nerves. The tall man loomed, his pale skin covered in tattoos, his serious blue-eyed gaze aimed and raking over me. I jumped back with a start when he reached towards me, my heart doing figure eights in my chest.
“No need to be afraid. I’m your protection.” His words were offered to comfort me, but they did nothing but send me down a path filled with wicked ideas. A teasing hint of mischief reached his eyes as I took the keys he’d offered me. I supposed my confused expression prompted him to keep talking.
“Keys to your new car,” he stated like it was something I should have expected. I already had a car. I eased further back when he moved to reach into his back pocket. A black credit card was presented next. I lifted my gaze from the card and met the man’s stare.
“Arjen may be intense, but I can guarantee you, he takes care of his,” the man stated. His words were doing nothing to take away my confusion, they only added to the mounting concerns plaguing my brain.
“Are you packed and ready? If not, I’ll wait.” He hadn’t moved to enter my apartment, but his presence was no less stalking. I stood gawking at him until I understood he was waiting for an answer.
“I’m packed. I just need to shut down my computer.”
Finally, I accepted the black card from him and stepped aside so he could enter, but he didn’t move.
“No, ma’am. I’ll wait here. I’m glad you’re already packed.” He breathed a sigh of relief. “I don’t need or want to meet Arjen’s rampage for being alone with you.” He made the statement under his breath, but I caught the gist.
I had briefly met my future husband who’d had a dangerous air about him, but he hadn’t appeared to have a crazy streak. As a matter of fact, he had been a well-dressed gentleman. Arjen Vallin possessed a dangerous reputation, but this big man made it sound like I was marrying an overprotective psycho. What had my father gotten me into?
I marched into my office first, shutdown, and packed up my computer equipment before I entered my bedroom and retrieved the two pieces of luggage I had packed the night before.
My shoulders dropped while taking in one last glance around my apartment, filled with what had been familiar and comfortable to me. A sad smile touched my lips at the site of the first painting I had done at twelve, a homeless man feeding his dog.
The three remotes I needed to flip through channels on my wall-mounted flat screen sat in a neat line on the arm of my couch. The television had never been aligned properly and tilted down on the right side. The dent in the cushion of my black leather couch where I would always tuck my feet under me was visible at a distance. The expensive glass and marble end table was a gift Mecca donated to the place when I first moved in.
A deep inhale and a silent prayer did nothing to keep my emotions at bay as I turned and walked out of my old life.
Sam, my new bodyguard, handled my luggage, and I followed him, taking my first stroll into the unknown. He stopped me at a box-style Mercedes SUV and pointed at the area where he wanted me to stand. I stood as directed, but remained unsure of how to compute what was happening. He loaded my luggage into the back, lifting the heavy bags like they were nothing but foam.
Once my bags were secured, he pointed to a new black Mercedes S560 parked next to him that was so deliciously classy, I gawked.
“Keys,” Sam stated. When I didn’t answer, he said, “Ma’am, your keys. That’s your car,” he informed, pointing at it.
My lips fell apart as my eyes swiped back and forth between him and the car, my expression causing a smirk to brush across Sam’s lips.
“Told you. Arjen will take good care of you,” he stated.
Finally, I fished around in my purse and found the keys I’d been handed and aimed them at the car. Sam’s presence had stunned me, so I hadn’t paid attention to the big blaring Mercedes emblem on the keys he had handed over.
I had never dated a man for his material possessions or for what he could purchase for me, but, in this case, I was taking whatever Arjen wanted to give. I didn’t want to marry him. Therefore, I would take all of the expensive gifts he’d give, and this car was at least making me smile.
The car flashed opened with a bright welcome as the eighty-degree Colorado sun made it bling. I wasn’t doing badly in life with my above-average apartment in a safe neighborhood, and my used Nissan Maxima, but this was an upgrade that had me salivating.
I reached for the door handle, but Sam beat me to it, opening the door for me. Since it was only him escorting me, it made me wonder who had driven my new ride to this location.
“Make all your necessary adjustments and honk the horn once when you’re ready. Follow me closely, if you need to stop, honk twice.”
“Okay,” I replied as I slid onto the buttery gray interior. The new-car scent had me closing my eyes as I inhaled deeply. I honked when I was ready and followed Sam, the car taking a little of the sting away from what I might face with my impending marriage.
The forty-minute trip went by seamlessly. However, the glow of my new car started wearing off as scenarios of what I might face at the end of the trip played out in my head.
Was this car the beginning of a trend that was meant to keep me quiet?
3
Desiree
We turned into Cherry Hills Village, one of the wealthiest neighborhoods in Denver, but we didn’t stop at any of the houses there. We traveled through the area, exiting it onto a highway that led to an entrance into another neighborhood about five miles away.
The guard checked Sam’s credentials and did a thorough undercarriage search of our cars before we were waved forward. A set of thick barriers were dropped before a tall metal gate started to roll apart. You were not getting into this neighborhood unless you were invited in or brave enough to shoot your way in as all the guards were armed. Based on where it was located, you weren’t even going to find the area unless you knew it was there.
The large white-brick sign with its fancy majestic black font, showcased that we were entering the Skyland Falls neighborhood. We drove another half mile before I started to see houses ag
ain.
The area had me doing double-takes, my eyes taking in the opulent setting. Spiraling mansions in the distance were spread apart with enough space and landscape to allow your neighbor the privacy they were paying for. I cracked my window, soaking up the fresh June air, so crisp on my skin that it produced a calming touch.
Nothing inside this neighborhood was worth less than a few million. I knew the Vallins were well-established arms dealers, but I was clueless as to their status in life as far as wealth and class. This was the kind of neighborhood you lived in when you had made it. Too bad I hadn’t made it here on my own.
I was nothing but a living bargaining chip, a trade among men of power. A team of depressing thoughts threatened to pull me into a pit of self-pity, but I swallowed them along with a bundle of stress and concentrated on the scenery.
Well-manicured trees and shrubs pageant waved in my direction. Manmade lakes and creeks gave the neighborhood a botanical garden theme. Birds chirped, and insects hummed, happy in their setting.
We drove about seven miles before reaching the end of the road of the community. Arjen’s house was the last residence. Outside the gates was nothing but rolling hills that danced their way to the scenic mountain range in the distance.
At the entrance to Arjen’s property, I waited behind Sam, snatching peeks inside until he entered a code that parted a thick metal gate. I followed as we drove past the picturesque front view to the side of the huge two-story wooden and stone mansion. Glass accented the dark wood and stone, giving the house a stylish vibe. The stoned driveway was laid out before the house like a thick, expensive carpet and wrapped around one side.
Sam’s beefy arm hung out of his driver’s side window as he waved me forward to drive past him. A four-car garage sat along the side of the house, a wide-open door showing it was already filled with cars. Sam pointed, directing me to pull off to the far side of the broad, paved driveway.
When I cut the engine and reached to open my door, I jumped when my door was snatched open. The man leaned into the car. Arjen.
“Desiree,” he whispered my name low, but audible enough for me to hear it. A ready smile filled with mischief greeted me. Given the nature of our arrangement, he appeared genuinely happy to see me as his face was aglow with flashes of his energy.
He reached for my hand in a gentlemanly fashion and waited until I dialed down my shock enough to take the hand he’d offered. There was no need for an introduction as we had already met. My gaze perused his exquisitely tall and devilishly handsome features.
After taking his strong hand, I eased from the car, still soaking him in. Attractive was an understatement. My self-esteem wasn’t low, but I remained confused about Arjen’s choice in picking me as his wife. I wasn’t a glamor girl, didn’t go out of my way to embrace fashion, and me and make-up only flirted on special occasions.
Shockingly tall and powerfully masculine, his low-cut dark blond hair, neatly stubbled face, and chiseled jaw line probably got him whatever he wanted and from anyone he wanted it from. His blue-grey eyes sparkled with hints of his devilish nature. Arjen had the power to hypnotize women, and I was sure that he was keenly aware of it.
“You remember me?” he asked, as his gaze scanned me from head to toe. “Yes,” I replied. He hadn’t let my hand go and openly checked me out while holding an appreciative smile.
“Am I everything you dreamed you would get in a wife?” I asked, releasing a little of the sarcasm I dished out whenever I found myself tossed into discomfort.
“And then some,” he replied. I had prepared my next words of sarcasm, but his response had thrown me off. His approving smile and scanning eyes revealed his truth. He liked what he saw although I was in jeans, a silk designer blouse, and a pair of stylish heels.
The blouse and heels were recent, just-because-you’re-my-favorite-cousin gifts from my cousin, Mecca. She was the snazzy dresser with the expensive taste. Sometimes, I would take her advice and put a little effort into my appearance. Sometimes, I would sacrifice my appearance for more time cultivating my passion for art. Sometimes, I didn’t give a damn.
Arjen gripped my hand with a tight hold and pointed with the other towards the open garage door. “This way, sweet Desiree,” he stated, and I could hear the playfulness in his tone. But, he didn’t fool me, he was a pit bull with a new chew toy.
Given his dangerous reputation, it was difficult to get a read on Arjen. I sensed that he didn’t intend me any harm, but there was an underlying seriousness about him that I knew not to test. I forced my legs to move before he dragged me since he clearly didn’t intend to let my hand go.
“I want you to be comfortable, Desiree. If you need anything, come to me. If anyone says or does anything you don’t like, come to me,” he briefed as we walked.
We stopped at the entrance of the large garage that had four cars parked inside. He readjusted my hand, placing it between his as he faced me. “I need you to come to me for anything,” he reiterated, eyeing me with stern intensity.
“O….kay,” I replied, noticing how he’d stressed the word anything. I was starting to think that this marriage was more than a binding of families for the sake of illegal activity. Was my future husband insinuating that we would be more than an arrangement?
He closed his hand around mine, tightening his hold before he proceeded to lead me past the fleet of luxury vehicles he owned.
“I want you to have access to everything I have, so I’ll make sure you get keys to all the cars,” he stated, pointing at them as we swept past. I glimpsed a black Bentley Continental GT, a metallic blue Ferrari 488 Spider, and a silver drop-top Benz among the fleet.
He made a hand gesture towards the cars, directing my gaze to them once more. “I’ll move one of these to the spare garage so we can make room for you to park your car in here.”
“Okay.” If I didn’t find another word besides okay, it may be the only one he believed I knew.
“Do you like your car, Desiree?” he asked, glancing back, his inquisitive eyes raking me from top to bottom.
“Yes. I love it, actually,” I answered truthfully, my smile emerging despite my nagging stress.
“Good.” His smirk deepened as he allowed his gaze to drag over me, but not in a sexual way. It was more like he was attempting to get a read on my personality. “I’ll be honest with you. I don’t know the first thing about being a husband, but I’ll do my best to spoil you rotten, and make sure you have whatever you need.”
Unable to think of an adequate vocal reply, I nodded. He was offering me more than any of the men I had dated through the years. All they had offered me was mediocre sex and the failure to commit.
Rumor had it, the Vallin men had earned the name “animals” because of the savage way they attacked their enemies or prey before they dragged them off to destroy them. Although, I sensed hints of the dangerous edge Arjen possessed, I wasn’t picking up the sort of brute savagery that was associated with the Vallin name. Maybe he knew how to hide the most brutal part of his personality.
He sprang the door open to a foyer and stepped aside so that I could enter the house first. He had good manners, a quality I appreciated in him. I took in the recessed lighting and a large fresco of colorfully splashed paint on a glossy black canvas hanging on the wall. I followed him as he continued the extended introduction into his life, snatching glimpses at what would become my home.
“I don’t want you to feel like you’re being imprisoned, but because of my place in the organization, you will always have a guard with you wherever you go. Once word gets out that you’re married to me…” he paused, shaking his head. A deep sigh followed, plunging him deeper in thinking mode.
“Once they find you’ve married me, they are going to attempt to take you, kill you, rape you, or torture you to get at me. It’s one of the reasons I’ve never considered a serious relationship before now.”
His detailed updates about the dangers that sat waiting in my future, destroyed the small tra
ces of ease I had forced on myself. All these same threats applied here as the ones I lived with being Raymond Evan’s daughter, but I sensed the danger level had been upgraded with the Vallins. Did he see me as someone that was disposable, someone he wouldn’t miss if I died?
“I’m a peaceful man, Desiree. I like order. I can be stubborn and demanding, but I’m not unwilling to negotiate or listen to reason. Outside of us, and where it concerns you, I will be unbending. If anyone lays a hand on you, they will have to face me.” His statement was punctuated with a finality that made my heels do a double click against the beautiful marble floor.
The part of his personality he knew how to hide was starting to seep out, breathing life into that famous Vallin name. However, I appreciated that although he didn’t know me, he was still vowing to fight for my honor.
I forged ahead as his words sat in my brain. The best I could do was soak in the situation as it unfolded and attempt to ease myself into understanding it as I move along the chaotic path.
Once we cleared the hall, the space opened to a large living room that sent my eyes darting in every direction. The contemporary design captured my attention immediately. It showcased art deco and a modern style, musing them into a unique design that breathed life into the area. As someone that dabbled in multiple areas of art, I appreciated the decorator’s touch and keen eye for intricate patterns and mind-musing color schemes.
I fixed my gaze on the floor-to-ceiling, hand-painted piece that sat at the center of his living room where one would normally put a fireplace. The painting boasted a sexless person sitting with their head tucked behind their arms and knees. Although the piece was large shapes with no sharp turns or explosive colors, its theme drew you in. It left you pondering what the person was thinking and what made them fold into that position? Was it a man or woman, boy or a girl?
