The Syndicate’s Bride

Chapter 1 (cont.d)

(Cont.d)

I did consider taking it easy on him, seeing as the man did almost die. But the closer I got to him, the more uninjured he appeared. And my sympathy disappeared.

Stopping in front of him, I lifted the metal. “Care to explain why a contraband car part was seen in your race car, Mr. Winchester?”

He was silent and I started to believe he was intentionally ignoring me when seconds passed and he remained so. My jaw ticked in irritation.

“Mr, Sal-”

“You’re in my way.”

Deep and commanding, his voice boomed, causing a trail of goosebumps on my skin. I pretended to not be affected.

“And you’re about to become a criminal if you don’t answer me.”

At my threat, he looked up at me slowly until his alluring features came into view. As dark blue eyes stared into my green ones, I refused to pay attention to just how good looking he was.

“You better shut that mouth of yours and run back to your crown before you say something stupid,” he warned. “Places like this aren’t for little princesses like you.”

“Excuse me?” I snared.

“You heard me,” he replied dryly.

As the Logan heiress, it wasn’t unusual to hear certain stereotypes about me. ‘The Logan princess’ was one of those, a label that always irked me. But hearing it for this bastard’s mouth did more than just that, it made my blood boil in anger.

“Who the f**k do you think you are to point fingers when your family manipulates races through dirty means?”

Looking bored, he stood up and proceeded to walk to the exit. “Maybe you should take it up with my family,” he looked over his shoulder. “Run home, little princess.”

This f*****g bastard.

One of the spectators entered into the arena through the exit door where he stopped Ryan mid walk to speak with him. The longer I looked at him, the more anger and hatred seeped into my veins.

If only they knew who he really was; an arrogant bastard.

Without much thinking, I walked to the spectator, ignoring the bastard.

“Hello, I am Engineer Vanessa Logan. I have some rather alarming discovery about a racer and I’ll like to take it up with – ” slam. My back was slammed into the wall before I could get my next words out.

Ryan’s hand slammed hard against the wall by my head with so much force I was certain he could break it. The spectator looked at his action in confusion and slight fear.

“Excuse – ”

“Leave.”

Neither of us moved.

Without taking his gaze off mine, he pointed at the spectator. “You. Leave.”

Without a second glance, he left as he came, leaving me with a seething Ryan. Great, I was pissed too.

We stayed seething in silence, no one willing to break the stare off. I looked on unflinching, only averting my gaze to examine his irresistible features.

His dark blue eyes rimmed his perfectly sculptured face, and so did his straight nose and soft lips. His hair which was dark and short now stood in soft spikes on his head, probably from how many times his hands had passed through it. The look fit him perfectly, adding an edge to his already cold and stoic personality.

A perfect face with the worst personality.

His eyes seemed to be roaming around my face too from the way they slid down my nose, lingered on my lips and back to my eyes again. At the eye contact, our anger rekindled.

“What the f**k do you think you’re doing?’

“No, what the f**k do you think you’re f*****g doing,” he seethed. His jaw clenched in anger. “You run your little mouth like you know everything but all it does is get on my f*****g nerves.”

He slammed his hand against the wall again and this time, even with my brave facade, I shuddered a bit. His eyes went red. Veins bulged from his forehead and arms in big far stripes. His breathing became rapid and he clenched his jaw tighter. He looked terrifying all of a sudden.

And he seemed to be losing his mind.

“Ryan?” I attempted to get his attention but failed. “Hey, what the f**k, Ryan!” He looked away, grunting and shaking his head from side to side like he was uncomfortable and was trying to get something off him.

Without thinking, I grabbed his face in my hands. “Snap out of it, Ryan.” I took his hand that wasn’t resting on the wall and squeezed it, willing him to come back to his senses. I wasn’t exactly sure what was going on and had no idea if what I was doing would work but I was banking on it. If it didn’t work, then this would become a whole load of problem to deal with.

Luckily, the veins on his forehead and his arm began to fade away, and the redness in his eyes began to clear. Sighing in relief, my eyes widened in shock and gratitude.

“What was that –” A collision behind me ceased my words, and alarmed shouts erupted in the arena. I looked past Ryan’s shoulders to see smoke and flame that increased by the second.

At the other side of the arena, the paramedics were on the move but with how fast the fire was spreading, I suspected there was going to be an explosion soon, and a racer was still in the car.

This is bad.

I turned to Ryan to ask if he was now completely calm. But before I could get words out of my mouth, to my utter shock, Ryan suddenly sprinted to the collision.

“What the...?”

Is he f*****g crazy?

I watched him, flabbergasted and unsure as to how he intended to rescue the racer before it was too late. But somehow, what was even more shocking was his speed.

I knew some very good runners and I watched the Olympic races from time to time. This was nothing like it. Ryan ran at a speed I wouldn’t call human. It was as if he was in front of me in one second and pulling out the injured racer in another from the burning car,

With his bare hands.

“What the hell?”

I watched in awe as the cars blew up just as he was a safe distance away with the race. He gently laid the man to the ground while the paramedics crowded the latter to give him the necessary first aid.

I looked at Ryan as he walked out the arena with a horde of reporters trailing behind him, attempting to ask questions about his heroic save, all of which he ignored.

On my end, curiosity nagged at the curated image I already had of Ryan Winchester. He was arrogant, cold-blooded, rude. Every possible negative character was attributed to the man who just saved a racer from an explosion.

And he did it at his own will.

What even am I to make of this?

That’s when my phone rang. Glancing at the device, I heaved out a sigh at Mr. Logan’s name displayed on the screen before answering.

“Yes, Mr. Logan?”

“Vanessa,” came the hard detached voice of my father. “You have an assignment.”

My eyes twitched but I swallowed the irritation. “Yes?”

“You are to be engaged to Ryan Winchester -”

Did I hear f*****g right?