SHARED BY THE RIVAL SPADE BROTHERS.

Chapter 4: Strange

CORALINE

“Father, what manner of absurdity is this?”

“This is a solution to our problems.”

“No. This is a silly distraction. We can't even share territories. How do you think we can share a wife?”

My eyes twitched as my consciousness returned. A wave of exhaustion seemed to cloak me, leaving my body heavy and my thoughts sluggish. But the moment I remembered what had happened, I shot upright, only to realize that I was lying on a sofa with my hands and feet bound together. Panic seized me as I searched the room.

“Ah! Miss Coraline is awake.” Victor Spade announced.

I looked at him. He sat in a chair to my right, while three males occupied the seats opposite him. Against all odds, I knew they were his sons. His three unstable sons. My bladder nearly gave out when they stopped their conversation to stare at me. Judging by their expressions, I had stepped into a scenario that would undoubtedly be the end of me.

Before I knew it, tears began to leak from my eyes. I had been practically sold off and brought to a place I did not know.

“Oh, for f**k's sake.” The complaint came from the blonde man in a suit. He tugged at his tie, his lips twisting into a reticent expression. “You brought us a crybaby.”

A deep chuckle followed from the red-haired man seated farther away. He wore a sports jersey, and his blue eyes twinkled as he sniffed the air. “Father, don't tell me she is an… Omega?”

“Oh, she is,” Victor replied, patting his legs. “I figured having an Omega would be advantageous. Coraline here survived a fire incident, and she is a true-blooded Omega.”

“Well, she doesn't look that true-blooded to me. Look at her. She looks like she would break if I touched her.”

There was another man, the quietest of them all. He wore a sleeveless shirt, revealing tattoos of thorns winding around his wrist and arm. A piercing adorned his lip, and his eyes were a deep bottle green. He hadn't made a single statement, but his expression suggested he found the situation just as distasteful as his brothers did.

“Please.” I pressed my bound hands together. “Mr. Spade, I don't want to be here.”

He already knew that. Still, I hoped that if I begged hard enough, some corner of his cold heart might soften.

Instead, he turned toward me, still smiling. “And where would you rather be, my darling? Back with Shantel Ashford and her parasitic, conceited daughter?”

I stared at him.

“Why do you look surprised? Of course I knew Shantel was not a good woman. Judging by the way her daughter dragged you downstairs and looking at your physique, she has not exactly treated you well. Look at you. You barely have flesh on your bones. In your own father's house, you are treated like less than a maid. Is that where you want to return?”

He was right. That house was a madhouse, a hellhole. But anywhere would be better than here.

“I would rather be out on the streets, if I am being honest,” I whispered.

Victor's smile softened. “I did business with your late father once, and I liked the way he operated. Lucian was a wholesome man. I would feel terrible letting his daughter end up on the streets.”

Would it be better if he married his daughter to these psychos?

I swallowed the words before they left my mouth. Aggravating them was probably the last thing I needed.

“Look, girl. I know this is not a conventional arrangement, nor one you would prefer. But life has dealt you a terrible hand, and I am offering you a better one. You have my word that they will not hurt you. All you have to do is play your part. You have a lot to gain from this marriage if you play your cards right. All I want is for you to unite my sons. That is not too much to ask.”

“You know very well that it is too much to ask, Father,” Vincent, the blonde interrupted. He looked irritated, as though he had better things to do than sit in this room. “I had an important meeting with new investors. Pulling me out of that meeting to witness this insanity is a f*****g joke.”

“Of course, Vincent. Always complaining about wasted time, as though Father didn't pull me out of practice, too,” the redhead, Asher, retorted. “You are not the only one whose time was wasted. If you are going to complain, address it accordingly.”

“Asher, I didn't involve you in this conversation, so mind your damn business, boy.”

Asher rose from his chair. Immediately, pheromones filled the room, thick and suffocating. The hostility between the brothers was so obvious you could taste it.

“Boys,” Victor warned. But neither of them seemed interested in listening.

“No, Father. Let me address this twerp. Does he want to compare that little thing he does on the ice to my business? I hold down the corporate aspect of this family.”

“And hockey is embedded in our family's history. Why do you always talk like you're the only achiever here, Vincent?”

Vincent ripped off his tie and flung it to the floor. Asher began removing his jacket. Then Victor started coughing. He reached for a handkerchief and pressed it over his mouth. When he pulled it away, blood stained the fabric. I squinted at it.

“Oh, you boys are going to kill me faster than my illness,” he muttered.

Illness? He was dying?

“Then, dear Father, you should spend the rest of your days among cupcakes and tulips instead of pulling stunts like this,” Vincent replied, dropping back into his chair.

He retrieved his phone, apparently finished with the argument.

I watched Victor Spade’s face and he looked thoroughly exhausted. Like a resigned, desperate father racing against the clock to find a solution to his family's mess, watching his sons tear into one another.

He sighed and looked at me pitifully for the briefest of moments.

“You boys are right. What was I thinking? This won't work…”

Finally, he was finally saying what I was saying. Maybe he would let me leave after all.

But then the quietest brother rose from his seat.

“She is just like her,” he murmured, staring at me.

I didn't understand what he meant.

“Innocent face, big sensitive doe eyes. Who knows? She might be a spy sent by our enemies. She might have plans to siphon our family's wealth.”

I blinked at him.

“I beg your finest pardon?”

“I am sick and tired of pretentious women who think their faces make them look incapable of doing harm. I am flinging her out of this compound.”

He began approaching me and I shrank against the sofa, my bound hands trembling. His expression was frightening, and he moved with the aggression of a bull preparing to charge. When he came closer, his shadow swallowed my entire figure. Fear froze me in place when his fingers reached for me.

“DON'T TOUCH ME!”

I threw my hands over my head, shielding my body. I waited for the rough grab or the slap, which was the punishment I had grown accustomed to receiving whenever I dared to resist someone stronger than me but nothing came. Slowly, I lowered my hands and all three brothers were staring at me with wide eyes, their expressions strangely blank, and their eyes illuminating as though they had fallen into a trance.