Chapter 1

Kyda

Amara yells from the room she shares with Inara, "Come on, get ready; we will be late."

Today is the last day of my residency; therefore, I will be heading home next week. All of us will be taking our professions as doctors to the next level. I wouldn't, but all of my friends would. Even if I tried, I couldn't avoid the nightmare I would be entering. I'm getting married, yes.

Yay me! I am getting married to a man who hates my guts. Hate would be a pleasant word to describe Atlas's feelings for me. He despises me for reasons I am not aware of. As if I am thrilled to marry him. The feeling is mutual. I will happily accept a nunnery rather than marry him.

You would be wondering if I am stuck in a problem. No, there are two reasons: 1. If only I could voice out my feelings

IMPORTANT Reason—My father's dying wish. Being an introvert sucks! But Amara diagnosed my condition as selective mutism. According to her, I can speak, but years of living under my father's roof have made me obedient to men with intimidating faces like my father's. I am not intimidated by my father; instead, I fear disappointing him, and I believe this is also motivated by guilt. My father lost the love of his life because of me, which is another reason I can't talk in front of him.

I can be a different person when I am pissed. I am quiet but not a weak woman.

My mother died giving birth. And it’s guilt again for Atlas. Okay, he looks at me as if I were the reason for world hunger, poverty, and wars, and yet he has to marry me. Maybe I am, and I can’t talk to him. I can’t utter a single word. Not even a single syllable. My hands are tied; I can’t disappoint my father.

I just can’t understand why he can’t say no to this sham of a marriage instead of sending death glares my way at every dinner our family has. I wish he would reject me and be done with it. More than that, I wish to have the courage to do it myself and explain to my father that I don’t need a husband but a career. So that he could look at me with pride instead of just seeing my mother's face.

Why are you not ready yet? Amara yells from my room's doorframe, pulling me out of my musing.

Can’t we order some cheesy food and watch The Big Bang Theory? I ask her softly.

She glared at me and said, "No, it's your last day as a single lady." So, we are going to celebrate.

"I don't want to marry Atlas," I whispered, but she heard me.

Amara's eyes softened as she said, "I know and wish I could do something about it." However, I can still ask my family to take care of Atlas if you'd like, she said with a mysterious sparkle in her eyes.

No! I exclaimed.

Not your family. I never met anyone from Amara’s family, but they are dangerous people. Involving them means guns and murder. Amara comes from a powerful mafia family from Newark. Amara is a hothead—act-first, think-later type—and the princess of the family. I can only imagine how dangerous her family might be.

“Or you can become my sister-in-law,” she said, smirking. I glared at her; she smiled mischievously. I sighed, shaking my head.

Furthermore, I pulled a red dress over my head. A vibrant red satin dress with thin adjustable straps, an A-line silhouette, and cinching around my waist for a custom fit with a lower back tie-up. As I turned around, Raelynn and Alexandra whistled, entering my room.

"You look hot," Inara says, looking me up and down. I must look nice if it's coming from our ice queen.

Let's go!

I am hungry, Aly shouts from the living room. If I don’t eat something soon, I will get cranky, she mutters to herself as she calls a cab for us.

Why are we going to this club again? Aly asks no one in particular. Amara glares at Alya, shutting her mouth.

We arrived just after eight, and there was a decent queue out the front, slowly filing in. We joined the line and saw a few people we knew in front. A few other friends we knew were joining behind and shouting to both groups over the music, which was loud enough outside and no doubt pumping inside.

As soon as we reached the bar, we ordered drinks. After a few more drinks, Amara and Raelynn decided to dance. I stood by the wall with Alexandra, Alya, and Inara, quietly sipping our drinks.

I tried blending in with the background when I noticed a handsome stranger sitting across the room in the VIP section among equally attractive men. It took my breath away. I felt something I had never felt in my life before.

He was the man of every woman's wet dream. Tall, dark, and dangerous. All the red flags—a walking blood-red forest but with the promise of a good time as well.

"Amara left me in the middle of the dance floor," Raelynn grumbled, joining us back.

Why? Alya asked.

"She just ran like she saw Lucifer himself. " Raelynn replied, sipping on her drink.

"Strange," I replied. I tuned them out, going back to stalking the gorgeous stranger.

Our eyes met, and at that moment, something magical happened. It was as if the universe were trying to convey an important message; I didn’t know what it was. Or maybe I was drunk. Goosebumps erupted on my skin as I kept stealing glances at him.

All I could think about was his presence, his charisma, his personality, and his alluring body, which were there, in front of me. 

I wondered how long his dark eyelashes were, how kissable his lips looked, and how his touch would feel on my body. I was shocked by the train of my own thoughts. This never happened. And when I said, "This never happened," I seriously meant it. Atlas and his twin were gorgeous-looking, but I never felt an ounce of attraction to any of them.

"You know you can go and talk to him," ever so observant, Inara said, pulling me out of my musing. I looked up to her with the question in my eyes.

What? It's not like you are marrying the love of your life and have any choice in marrying Atlas. She deadpanned.

Okay, she is right if she puts it that way. I could go and talk to him, but it would require me to move. If only my legs got the message to move, but it was like my body and brain had lost the connection. I feel his warm gaze on me.

"You can do this," Inara whispered, handing me another espresso martini. Liquid courage, she said.

I don’t think there is enough alcohol in this club to give me the courage to walk up to the grey-eyed stranger and forget about talking at all.

Alexandra pushed me forward, muttering all the best. I walked to the VIP section where he was sitting, surprised that the man in black standing there did not try to stop me.

My leg wobbled as I walked up to him, where he was holding court with attractive men, and my mouth vomited an utterly ugly hi.

I closed my eyes. God, please kill me now. As I opened my eyes to look at the grey-eyed stranger, I saw a hint of a smirk on his kissable lips, like he was expecting me to embarrass myself.

This was certainly not how I had envisioned my night unfolding.