Page 17 of Broken

As I survey the group in front of me, I’m shocked to find it’s just the old man and his head of security, Len. I worked with him a bit when I was first hired and he was not happy when I was promoted to Grant’s head of security. Apparently, Len had been training his son for the role so they could pass down their family legacies as the family that stood beside the Blakemans. The only issue with his plan is that his son, Kaylan, is a massive idiot. He has no skill when it comes to doing this job, which is why the only promotion he ever got was given by his father. The boss hated him too and he made it clear to Len that Kaylan could work for the family, but in a role of zero importance and with no possibility of promotion. Naturally, Len agreed because nobody disagrees with Alan Blakeman, but it doesn't change the fact that Len blames me. He doesn’t even recognise that, at times, Kaylan doesn’t know how many weapons he has, let alone the amount that someone else has. All he sees is that I got the job his son should be doing, which explains the giant scowl that is on Len’s face when I open the door. However, the fact his hand goes straight to rest on his side piece seems a little on the harsh side. I match his gesture, but since I was the one who was challenged, I decide to go bigger and better by making my position of importance known to Len. Well, that and I subtly hold open my suit jacket to make it clear that I, too, am armed. You did hear me correct when I said suit jacket. Even though when I’m working with Grant, he doesn’t care what I wear, or it’s more that I don’t let him tell me what to wear. But, the old man likes things done a certain way and that means that security staff all wear black suits, including the jacket and a dark shirt. If the way Ava keeps looking at me, with almost blown pupils and eyes filled with desire, is anything to go by, then I think she is a fan of the suit. No more thinking of the words Ava and desire in the same sentence, back to showing Len who is in charge in this house.

“Mr. Blakeman, Sir, welcome. So kind of you to drive all the way out here for a visit. Before I invite you in, it’s policy that each of your men confirm they are only carrying one weapon, as agreed, and that only one member of your team will be coming in. Is that ok with you?” I say politely, holding my hand out to the boss. This is where I am showing Len my position because everyone knows you do not extend your hand out to greet him until he has greeted you first. However, the old man made it clear to me a long time ago, he didn’t want me to follow the same rules and that I could greet him as an equal. Something that even Len is not allowed to do.

“Enough of the ‘Sir’ crap, Ryder. You are making me feel old,” he jests whilst clasping his slightly wrinkled hand into mine. Despite being in his sixties, the old man is still young for his age and didn’t look bad. He is what most of the whores he fucks call a silver fox. So I'm not at all surprised when he matches my firm handshake with one equally rigid.

“I know the rules, Ryder. Len will enter and you have my word he is only armed with the piece he currently has his hand on. The one he is envisaging blowing your brains out with, I'm sure. Now can we come in?” I let out a laugh at the fact the old man literally does not miss anything. I didn’t even see him look over in Len’s direction, but then again, he knows of his distaste for me. I also know he loves winding people up and looking at the purple shade Len’s face has now become, it obviously worked. As soon as I have finished my little chuckle at Len’s expense, I formally invite them in and move out of the way for Grant to welcome his father. As I walk into the house, I risk a glance at Ava, who looks like a deer in headlights and I can see her eyes are focused on Len’s gun and the one she has just seen in the back of Grant's trousers. Idiot wears it stuffed in the back of his trousers, thinking it makes him more gangster. I’m just waiting for the day he blows another hole in his arse. I try to give Ava a reassuring smile, but she doesn’t even notice me. Her gaze is still locked on the weapons and the foreboding presence that is Mr. Blakeman.

Grant looks equally as pissed off to be doing this ridiculous formality of welcoming his own father into his house, but Alan respects tradition. He believes when a guest enters your property, they should be formally announced and when it is someone of higher status, they should be met by the leader of the house. This whole circus pisses Grant off everytime, but this time, I notice he has a slight smirk on his face. That worries me because it means he is planning something. Isn’t presenting Ava as his wife enough of a shitshow for one day?

“Father, welcome. How lovely to see you at such short notice, we were not expecting your visit yet. As always, it is a pleasure to welcome you to my home,” Grant says in an unusually chipper voice. His thinly veiled dig at his father requesting this meeting at such short notice does not go unnoticed by anyone in the room, but it is unusual for Grant to speak like that to his Father. Normally, he is almost robotic around him, sticking to all the socially acceptable ways to address him and showing the utmost respect. There are times in public when he challenges the system, but as far as I have seen, in a one-on-one situation, he is well behaved. It's almost like the abused and repressed small child appears and behaves exactly as expected. Today is different and I think it’s because of Ava. That starts to worry me because if Grant throws off the status quo with Alan, I'm not sure how anyone is going to behave and there is no way Ava is getting hurt on my watch.

“I have a special surprise for you this time, Father. I would like to present to you Ava Delgado, my fiancé.” Grant steps back, allowing Alan to get a full look at Ava, who had been subtly hiding behind Grant. Just in case the old man was in any doubt of who Grant was talking about, he makes sure to wave his arm in Ava’s direction. It looks like he is presenting a prize horse and she’s now about to be assessed.

Alan takes a step closer to Ava and much to my surprise, she doesn’t move back. Most people would see the man who is infamously known as the most violent crime boss in the country coming towards them and they would take a step back, but not Ava. I see her pull her shoulders back and take a deep breath, clearly affected by the big statement she just made. Announcing to him that she is not afraid is a big deal, but I can see the real Ava. The look of panic in her eyes, the way she is chewing the inside of her lips and the way she is using her thumb to scrape across the skin on her hand. All classic signs of anxiety and being scared as shit and I do not blame her. What does surprise me is the returning look Alan gives Ava. I watch as he runs his gaze over her body, not in a sexual way, but to take in her very casual appearance. That combined with the blatant disregard of his power when she challenged him by not stepping back would normally make him go a little crazy. I watched him beat the shit out of a guy once for not having his shirt tucked in. Well, he threw the first punch and his men finished the job, but it's the same thing. However, when he looks at Ava, he has a strange combination of emotions on his face that I am struggling to place. He looks pleased to see her standing up for herself, but he also has this sort of wistful, far away glaze over his eyes, like his memory is somewhere far away from here. This is then replaced by a look of sadness before he has time to school his features and put his big boss man mask on that he usually wears. That could possibly be the first time I’ve ever seen him show so much emotion and I have no idea what Ava had to do with it.

“Hello, Mr. Blakeman, my name is Ava. It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Ava says chirpily whilst holding out her hand. What the fuck is she doing? Both myself and Grant look at each other with a look of horror on our faces. I told her last night about the rules and the social expectations. It seems like the little vixen has decided to go against every rule I told her and do her own thing. I watch as Len physically takes hold of his gun and I start to reach for my own. No way am I letting that bastard shoot her in front of me. I have been looking for a good excuse to put a bullet in him for a while, but I constantly have to remind myself it would put my job in jeopardy and ruin everything that I have worked towards for the past two years. Yet all of that seems to go out the window at the idea that Ava might be in trouble. Luckily, the old man appears to have had a personality transplant because he laughs and reaches out to take her hand.

“Beautiful Ava, such a pleasure to meet you.” It’s a short acknowledgement but it’s still the strangest thing I have seen in a long time. As soon as he is done saying his quick hello to Ava, he turns to face Grant with a completely different expression on his face. He looks murderously mad and the anger that is radiating off him is all aimed at Grant, who either doesn’t realise or he doesn’t care.

“Grant, let's go to the living room, we have business to discuss. I will send word for you both to attend my house for a proper meeting. You may leave now, Ava, I’m sure you have plenty of better things to be doing.” The old man steps aside to let Ava through and out of the door. It almost feels like he knows she is trapped here and he is helping her out, but that just feels so unlike him. I don’t fucking like not knowing what is going on.

Ava makes a brave move for the door, but Grant takes a step forward and grabs hold of her wrist. I can see the pressure he is applying from here and the matching grimace on her face confirms his grip is too tight. So tight, he might even bruise her perfect silky skin. I feel myself clenching my fists to avoid physically acting on the anger that I feel brewing in my stomach.

“Yes, Ava, why don’t you go up to your room? It will give you time to settle in and get your wardrobe sorted. That way, when you meet my father next time, you will be dressed appropriately.” Grant makes it clear that Ava is to remain in the house, he even partly drags her towards the stairs. She looks over at Alan, giving him a small smile.

“Yes, of course. I apologise if you are deeply offended by my clothes, Sir. I thought you would prefer to meet the real me, rather than the person your son will have me become,” Ava says to Alan with an air of sarcasm that I would be proud of if I wasn’t so worried about the look of fury on Grant’s face. He has turned purple and I can see the large vein that travels up his neck pumping furiously, indicating that his breathing has increased. His anger towards Ava right now is worrying. I am also expecting to find anger on both sides, as I didn’t think Alan would like her sarcasm regarding his son. Apparently, I was wrong because Alan is just smiling at Ava like she is the most unique person he has ever met. I know that feeling.

“Yes, well unfortunately, my dear, the family you are marrying into comes with a certain status and we must match that at all times. I am sure you will pick it up quick enough. I will ensure my son helps you to learn our ways. It was nice to meet you, Miss Delgado, and I look forward to talking to you more soon.”

I look over at Grant and then at Len, they are both wearing matching expressions that basically say, ‘what the fuck?’ Not only was he reasonably polite to Ava, he basically implied his son was to blame for the way she was dressed. Then he called her by her name and smiled at her. Even Ava is standing there, looking a tad stunned and by the wince she gives while looking down at her arm, Grant is gripping on even tighter, clearly enraged with the situation. My role here is to plan and interpret the way that situations are going to go, it might be the thing that keeps us all alive. However, even I did not see the old man being nice to Ava like that. Normally, he hates when people don’t respect formality, he’s very old fashioned in that sense. Plus, for as long as I have known this family, Alan has made it clear Grant has to marry a certain type of woman, and despite the fact Ava is worth a million of whoever he would find, she is not the type of woman who marries into the Blakeman family. No matter how much Grant makes her over. The type of shit that went down today will continue to go down because Ava is a feisty woman who does not like to go down without a fight. The little glances that I catch Alan throwing her way makes me think that he appreciates her tough independent nature almost as much as I do.

Grant, obviously, did not anticipate for things to go down this way and the sneer he now has on his face, distorting his typical boyish charm, makes him look outright scary. I'm sure I can see the skin on Ava’s arm changing colour as he cuts the circulation off with his all encompassing grip. One… two… three, I was always told that if I counted to ten, taking deep relaxing breaths in between, it would help with my anger, but right now, I just feel like I am counting down until I punch Grant in the face. Fuck, this was not supposed to happen. This is my job and I need to do it well, which means ignoring how he treats Ava. I'm part of the security team only, a fly on the wall. I do not get to have an opinion and I certainly think my job would be in jeopardy if I punched my boss’ son so hard, he needed to eat through a straw for a while. Strangely, just picturing it does make me feel a little better. It's more effective than the damn counting and breathing technique, I will remember that for the future. I’m snapped out of my rather delightful daydream when I hear Grant say my name.

“Ryder, why don’t you show my father through into the dining room and have the maid make him a drink? I am going to make sure Ava gets settled in her new room and will be back down shortly. Please bear with me, Father, she is still getting used to such a big house,” Grant says, addressing his father after me. Instantly, I want to say no. There's no way I want that smarmy psycho alone with Ava, but I have to get it in my head they are engaged, which usually means alone time. The haunted look in Ava’s eyes are directed right at me and feel like a punch in the stomach. I have been given my orders and so I lead Alan and Len into the living room, leaving Grant and Ava in the hallway, his hand still firmly gripping her wrist.

Chapter Seventeen

Ava

MeetingTHEAlan Blakeman was quite an experience, but definitely not the one I spent all night losing sleep over. After the best night of my life with Ryder, I knew I had to get back to reality. If I wanted to keep my papa alive, the only thing to do is to marry Grant. I made my peace with that. The fact I would be marrying into one of the biggest, richest crime families in the country did not even occur to me. The notoriety alone for just being associated with this family gets you a reputation. People who are linked to the family are known all over the city. London belongs to the Blakemans and everyone knows that. On paper, they are a respectable, rich family with very successful businesses, but everyone knows it is just the public image they show. Nobody exactly knows how far their reach goes, but I know that nothing criminal happens in or around London without Alan Blakeman knowing about it. The idea that I would now be a part of that family and everything they stand for wasn’t even something I had even considered until Ryder mentioned it last night. He told me about the rules and how I had to impress Alan, following all of his expectations or he may not consent to the marriage. That is when I saw the plan forming before my very eyes.

The look on both Ryder and Grant’s face when I walked down the stairs this morning, wearing my skin tight ripped jeans and a vest that I'm pretty sure is supposed to be worn as lingerie, is fantastic, but both for very different reasons. Ryder’s eyes grow wide like saucers and he appears to catch his breath. He’s looking at me like he is picturing what I looked like last night when I was wearing nothing at all and he looks like he wants to grab me. The desire in his eyes is obvious and I’m sure I have a matching gaze in mine. Then it’s as though we both remember where we are and who is standing with us and we school our faces, leaving Grant to look at. His face is exactly what I was going for. He’s furious and his cheeks are red, his eyes bulging. From what I have learnt about Grant over this past day, he clearly likes to be in control and have people do exactly what he tells them to. I have no intention at all of going down without a fight, and this is just the first step.

Meeting Alan Blakeman does not exactly go down the way I thought it would. Ryder had told me stories of how he demanded respect and was a big fan of formality and showing loyalty. So I had not expected to see him be so nice to me, he almost seemed taken by me. But, no matter how much I tried, it was impossible for me to forget that I was standing in front of one of the most deadly, evil men in the world. Honestly, he looks like your average older, gray-haired businessman. I can’t deny that he looks good for his age, it's obvious he keeps himself in good shape and he’s tall. He’s a lot like Grant in shape and I can see some of Grant's facial features. Except with Alan, there is a constant air about him, he almost exudes power and superiority. Even if you wanted to, you could never forget he is the best person in any room because that is just the way he is, his stature and posture make that perfectly clear. When he speaks, it is reinforced even further because his voice takes on a tone that leaves no room for discussion. When he speaks, he does so with power and boldness, ensuring there is no way anyone would dream of disputing what he says.

When he told me I was not needed for this discussion and that I could leave, I have to admit, I was far too quick to make a run for it. A decision I will most likely regret if the bruising grip that Grant has on my wrist is anything to go by. I should have known it wouldn’t be that easy. As I watch Ryder lead Alan and his bodyguard away onto the living room, I can't help the sense of foreboding that fills up my abdomen. The way Grant is looking at me with disgust is completely different from the mask he put on for me yesterday when he was trying to win me over. Obviously, now I’m trapped and he no longer feels the need to pretend to be a nice guy. He’s no longer looking at me like I’m beautiful, the look he is giving me now is closer to hate. I know my clothing stunt would piss him off, but I had no idea things would go down like this. Although the fear I feel starts to take over my body, raising my heart rate and making the hairs on my arms stand on end, I put it down as best I can. I’m tough and I’m not going to let him push me around.

“Upstairs, now! Do not say a word until we get there,” Grant hisses at me, spitting as he gets his point across in as low a volume as possible. His eyes have taken on an almost feral look and as soon as he releases my wrist, I don't give him a chance to change his mind. I start sprinting up the stairs as fast as I can in these stupid heels. I’m trying to remember the way around this ridiculously large house, trying to retrace my steps in my head. That’s when I hear Grant’s footsteps, walking steadily behind me up the stairs.

I have no idea how I do it, but I make it back to the corridor that my room is on the end of. Right now, I’m standing outside Ryder's room. Not even twelve hours ago, I was pinned against the other side of that door, getting hot and sweaty, having an amazing night. Now, I have to walk past the room and see the man who set my nerve endings on fire, yet I can’t even look at him for too long in case anyone figures it out. Ryder said that it would be dangerous for both of us, but until Alan Blakeman arrived and I saw exactly how many guns people are armed with, I didn’t fully understand what he meant. Before today, I had never even seen a gun in real life and now everyone surrounding me has one. But most worryingly is that the psychopath who I am engaged to and who I just pissed off royally in front of his family, also carries a gun. Now, I'm really starting to regret my stupidity.

Dawdling in front of Ryder’s room gives Grant the chance to catch up with me, but, of course, he was always going to. Where the fuck am I going to go? I’m on the third floor and none of the windows open, even if I did want to risk a jump. The only way down is using the stairs, which would have meant passing him, so of course, Grant felt no need to rush. Making it look like I waited for him to catch up in an attempt to be polite doesn’t work. When Grant reaches me, he actually pushes me so hard, I almost fall over and face plant on the floor. He grunts the word, “move,” at me and then returns to looking at me like I'm something he wiped off the bottom of his shoe. The shove really threw me off guard. The panicky feeling starts to return as I make my way back into the room that he calls mine.

I enter the room and wait to see what Grant is planning. For some reason, the idea of being stuck in this room with him is making my heart start to race and my eyes flit around looking for something to magically appear. He stalks towards me and once in the room, he gently closes the bedroom door.

CRACK! The sound of flesh against flesh fills the room and it takes me a second to realise the excruciating pain I now have in my right cheek is a result of Grant slapping me. My cheek starts to burn and sting, as well as ache with the aftermath of pain. I’m sure that it will now have a very bright red handprint plastered across it. My eyes start to fill with tears and I instantly bring my hand up to caress my cheek in an attempt to soothe it. I have never been hit, and, I have got to say, it's not something I ever want to repeat.

My brain is yelling obscenities about what type of a mini-dick, cock sucking cuntwaffle of a man actually hits a woman. In my head, I’m yelling all of this outloud at Grant and making my feelings for him very clear, but I’m not as stupid as I was thirty minutes ago. He has made his point real well. I now know he has no problem living up to his psychopathic name and that he really is the type of guy who is not afraid to hit a woman. But the bit that scared me the most is the look I saw in his eyes when he hit me. Obviously, I was startled too much to have missed his initial response, but I know what I saw. He had a look of excitement on his face. Not just that he enjoyed hitting me, or showing me how powerful he is, but it was almost like he got off on making me hurt. I have no intention of letting him hurt me again, even if that means behaving.

---