Page 21 of Once A Villain

The tension is palpable in Dad’s office. I’ve been avoiding him all week, but his texts have gone from demanding to downright threatening. I didn’t have a choice anymore—I had to face him.

A scowling Spencer leans against the wall, arms crossed.

“Why haven’t you returned my calls?” Dad’s tone is clipped, his eyes sharp as they pin me in place.

“I’ve been busy,” I reply flatly, avoiding his intense stare.

“Too busy to return your father’s calls?”

“Planning a wedding is hard work,” I retort, giving him an icy glare. “Especially since I wasn’tplanningto get married.”

He seizes the opportunity to launch into a lecture about loyalty and duty, his favorite topics. I barely listen, scrolling through my phone as he drones on. I’ve heard this speech a million times. I’ve always been loyal, devoted, and a slave to the Sovereign, and now is no different.

Even though we both know the truth. This isn’t about duty or loyalty. It’s about him. Marrying me off to some world leader or high-ranking politician would at least serve the Sovereign, but this? Marrying me off to a fucking psycho? That’s got nothing to do with the Sovereign and everything to do with whatever reason Axe is hellbent on revenge. And he knows it.

My phone vibrates with a text from an unknown number.

Unknown: Tonight. 10 PM. $30K.

Me: What services?

Unknown: No questions.

Me: No.

Unknown: $50K

My stomach knots. That’s a lot of money.A lot. But I don’t do blind appointments, not without background and information…but the money is too tempting. And I could use a distraction. Especially now.

A few minutes later, the address and room number are sent. I quickly respond, telling him I’ll be there.

My father’s voice cuts through my thoughts. “Are you even listening to me?” He stares at me with narrowed eyes.

“No.”

His face immediately turns red. Spence chuckles behind me, and Dad shoots him a death glare.

“This is bullshit, Dad,” Spence interjects, stepping forward. “How do you expect her to react? She didn’t want this; none of us did.” His comment ignites an argument between them.

I use this moment to slip out. I have a rehearsal and a client to prepare for, and I’m too tired to deal with this shit. As soon as the door closes behind me, the tears start to flow.

My entire body shakes, and my throat feels raw.I have to marry him in three days.Anger, fear, and worry consume me, filling me with an overwhelming sense of hopelessness.

My phone buzzes, and the reminder of tonight’s session makes my heart race. This is what I need. My life is crashing around me, and this is my escape—if only for a few hours.

Taking a deep breath, I wipe away my tears. I can do this. I have to. I head to rehearsal, determined to push thoughts of the upcoming wedding from my mind.

As I pullinto the hotel’s parking lot, my anxiety spikes. Second-guessing my decision, I sit in the car for a moment, my hands gripping the steering wheel.

This is risky. Stupid, even. I don’t know anything about this client. But with all the stress and worry, I need an escape. I’m losing control of my life, and this is my only chance to regain it.

I exhale, steadying myself.

The concierge greets me with a polite smile, his gaze lingering too long on my cleavage and thighs. I ignore him, heading straight for the room. The door is ajar.

I push it open slowly. The room is dark, illuminated only by the city lights streaming through the windows. I take a tentative step inside, my eyes adjusting to the dimness.

I take a deep breath, trying to steady my nerves. I remind myself why I’m here. I need this distraction. I need to feel in control, even if just for a little while.

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