Page 7 of The Merciless Don's Bride

We finally call it a night and I retreat to my room, the unease never leaving me. I like awake in the dark, staring at the ceiling, the wind howling outside the large windows. Every time I close my eyes, I can almost feel something creeping closer. I toss and turn for a while.

Everything’s fine. I’m being stupid. I’ll wake up tomorrow, and it’ll be just another day.

But even as I tell myself that, the knot in my stomach only tightens.

***

The ringing of my phone rips through the stillness of the early morning. I jerk upright in bed, heart pounding. For a moment, I just stare at the screen of my phone.

Private Number.

I hate those. I reach for it, not sure what I’m expecting. My heart hasn’t stopped pounding. I exhale a soft breath, trying to calm myself down as I answer.

“Hello?”

“Miss Solis?”

The voice is deep, rough, a man’s voice. Unfamiliar. My throat tightens.

“Yeah?” I rasp, on edge.

“I’m afraid there’s been an incident,” he continues, the words heavy and slow. His voice is slightly accented. But I can’t for the life of me place it.

An incident, he said. The words cause my blood to run cold. Somehow, I know before he eve says it.

“Your father….is dead.”

The world spins. My father. Dead.

I blink hard, trying to clear the fog that’s descending too fast, too thick.

“No, no, you’re wrong. There’s no way.”

“Miss Solis- “

“No, you’ve made a mistake,” I cut him off, my voice rising with each word, the panic starting to break through the shell I desperately try to burrow into.

“I’m sorry,” he says, his tone shifting into something almost apologetic.

The body was found earlier this evening. Your father’s dead, miss. And the circumstances..”

I don’t hear the rest of what he says. The only thing I hear is the rush of blood pounding in my ears. And then, nothing. I drop the phone onto the bed, my hand shaking, my heart slamming against my chest.

I saw my father approximately 16 hours ago. He kissed me on the forehead and told me to have a good trip. He made sure I had everything I could have possibly needed during my stay here. He can’t just be gone.

Some sliver of logic breaks through my panic and I wonder why I’m so willing to believe a stranger. I dive for my phone again, calling the one person I can trust to pull me out of this ditch I’m slowly sliding in to.

But my dad doesn’t answer his phone. I call him three times and each call goes straight to voicemail. So I call the next best person. My uncle picks up on the first ring.

And the grief in his tone is enough to confirm my worst nightmare.

My father is dead. But how the hell did this happen?

CHAPTER THREE

DAMIEN

Adrenaline’s addictive. But it fades too fast, especially when you’re looking for something permanent.

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