Page 1 of Bad Little Bride

Chapter

One

Boston

“Fiancée swapping prick.”

I down what’s left in my glass, set it on the edge of the tub, and sink to my neck in the steamy water. If only the heat could melt the anger and, yeah, the nagging little bitch whisperingI told you soover and over from my mind the way it’s threatening to melt the makeup from my face.

Of course, the man who shall not be named would pop back onto the grid aftermonthsof no contact the moment my father reached out to him with a better offer than the one I had made.

Marry me and gain access to my family’s underground empire, that was going to be my proposal.

Literally, considering I was offering him my hand, but all I had a chance to say was “marry me” before he took a single step closer and agreed, effectively cutting off the remainder of the fifteen-minute pitch I’d prepared, because yes. My life had become nothing but a business transaction.

The man crowded me after those two weighted words, hiding me from the view of his security detail, and instantly making meregret having snuck away from mine. He cocked his head and stared at me for ten silent seconds, those dark eyes as daunting as his massive frame.

“You wanna be mine?” he’d said when he finally spoke, his voice no more than a rumbly whisper. “Now you are.”

That was it.

Seven words to seal our fate, then he turned around and walked away.

No negotiation. No confirmation. Not what I would even call a conversation.

I didn’t have to mention a marriage to me would end the feud between my father’s operation and his own, and an alliance would form. We didn’t discuss how, and I wasn’t given the opportunity to affirm the second part would take time plus trust, but it didn’t matter.

He knew.

The ins and outs would come as the contract was finalized, and with a single signature he would get what every powerful man from here to the coastline was after without success.

The Revenaw name behind his own…assuming he stopped trying to bury it, of course.

He needed no other information, but then again, why would he?

It was no secret to us or any of the crime families that the Fikile name wanted to wash ours off the streets so they could rise from our ruin, and legitimately take over a section of the criminal organization we were a part of, rather than fight for the claim of the territory my father says he has no right to but took up residence in.

My offer saved him time, money, and the lives of his men. With one signature and a contractual “I do,” he would be indefinitely tied to the most influential names in the underground crime world.

I offered him this in the shape of myself and he agreed.

And then my father did one better.

He put gold on the table, and everyone knows only a fool would pass on gold for silver.

So, again, of fuckingcoursehe shows up now.

But where the fuck was he when the date he demanded I return from my “visit home” passed and I still didn’t return to his prison? I surpassed the little deadline by weeks now, and my supposed fiancé hasn’t attempted to contact me once. Not even when my father told him I changed my mind, and no longer wanted to be his bride, breaking what was supposed to be a life-binding contract.

But why would he? It’s not like he came to me and asked for the marriage of convenience. I sought him out. I set up the meeting, ditched my guards, and met him alone on Alcatraz Island, hoping he didn’t feed me to the sharks right then and there.

Obviously, that didn’t happen, but now I can’t help but think it would have been a less humiliating way to end this, for me anyway.

Irritation prickles at my skin so I run my palms along my arms, wishing the lavender petals would do their job and calm my nerves.

I’d bet the asshole was betting on this happening, maybe even planned for it.

What other purpose would the clause in our marriage contract hold?

---