Marrying my husband's greatest rival

Fraser.

"She doesn't need to be part of this."

Reece tries to get up from his position he was in, but the guy with the gun smacks him in the head with it and I try to run to him...

I know what you're thinking... he beats me, yet I'm ready to run to his defense. The thing is, and if I am correct, then this man that is holding me is none other than that Fraser guy everyone fears... I'd rather live with a monster than be with the devil... I haven't even worked up the nerves to look at my captor yet.

"You see the moment she stepped foot on my docks, she became part of this. Besides, a real man knows to never bring his woman into a fight, but is she really your wife, Reece, or is that just someone you say to her?"

I have no f*****g idea what the hell he is talking about, but this seems to make Reece crazy.

"Stay out of my f*****g life, Fraser, it has got jack s**t to do with you."

So my guess was right. This mountain of a man was the famous Fraser.

"Oh, but it does. The moment you stole what was mine, your life became my business. Give me back what you took and you'll get your wife back."

He says.

"Don't you dare!"

I yelled at Reece, where I got the nerve from. I don't know, but I'm seething with anger.

Fraser pulls me closer to his side and brings his lips to my ear. I don't wait to hear what he has to say. I headbutted him so hard I damn near knocked myself out, but it didn't seem to faze him not one bit. During this time, my hair falls back, exposing my bruised neck to my captor...

I'm looking at him as he stares down at my neck and I can see his emotion clear on his face. He knows someone did this to me. I can see it. Reece's hand mark is printed on my neck in an ugly blueish purplish mark... seeing this seems to make him angry as his features morph into that of pure anger.

But that's not what had me looking at him for so long. His beautiful, so f*****g f*****g beautiful I wanted to cry. I'd always thought this Frazer man was an ugly old guy with rotting teeth and breath that smelled like alcohol and cigars, but boy was I wrong... he is everything but what I thought he would be.

"You defend this man after he has done this to you?"

He sneers in my face, he's really pissed and if I wasn't so mesmerized by his f*****g good looks I would have been afraid.

"That's none of your concern."

I sneer back.

"Enough!"

I all but whimper at the sound of Reece's voice. Here I am in the arms of the devil, and yet I fear even the sound of Reece's voice, but Fraser pays Reece no mind his looking at me. He knows how much the sound of Reece's voice made me tremble.

"Let him show you where the container is. The girl comes with me."

Fraser says in a calm yet dominating voice all while still looking at me.

I wiggled and tried to fight him off as he pulled me away from Reece and out of the warehouse, but it was no use. I heard Reece sounding for him to bring me back, then a loud humph from behind me and some scuffling... Now not only did he have my son, he was taking me as well, but maybe just maybe this wasn't such a bad idea...

Maybe I would be able to convince him to let me be with my son. Maybe this was my way out of ever seeing Reece again... but I'm getting so ahead of everything, aren't I? Let me tell you a bit of how I happened to be in the mess in the first place.

I remember the things she said to me, how she spoke like I was old enough to understand the meaning behind the things she was saying, but I think that it was mostly about having someone to talk to even if that someone was only five years old. I think it had something to do with the fact that...

She could say anything without the concept of being judged by me, by knowing that, no matter what it was she told me, no matter how bad, I wouldn't utter a word about it to another soul. You see she does things, things I didn't understand, but now that I am older I do. I know that, every bad thing she ever did, she did them for me.

Even if she couldn't provide a roof over my head, she did the best she could in order for me to survive. When I asked her why she had named me Calliope, she told me I was the only fancy thing she ever owned, and fancy things needed fancy names. My mother was smart like that, or at least I thought she was.

She always thought outside the box, always tried to make our living situation better than it was, she was the wisest soul I knew and always quoted things that didn't make sense at the time, but they do now. I remember them... I remember everything, every word spoken from her lips as she cradled my head in her lap.

She rocked me back and forth, brushing my hair with her fingers. They would snag between her fingers a lot, but she would pry her fingers from my unruly hair as gently as she could. I hated it... not her running her fingers through my hair. I loved that part. I hated my hair...

It had the tendency of looking like a bird's nest even after she combed through them. My dull brown hair curled no matter how much she tried to straighten it, and it stayed dull even after she applied hair food on it. She said I had my father's hair but that I got the dullness from her...