The Casanova's Bride

Chapter 3

CHAPTER THREE

THE WARNING

Amara

The moment I stepped out of the car, I knew something was wrong.

Zola's house was supposed to be my escape.

Instead, there were two black SUVs parked outside.

My heart dropped.

I grabbed my suitcase and hurried toward the front door.

It was unlocked.

I stepped inside.

"Zola?"

No answer.

I walked further into the house.

Then I froze.

My parents were standing in the living room.

And they weren't alone.

Four men dressed in black suits stood behind them, their expressions unreadable.

I tightened my grip around my bag.

"What are you doing here?"

Nobody answered.

My eyes quickly scanned the room.

"Where is Zola?"

I searched the living room, then the hallway.

"Zola!"

Nothing.

I turned back toward my parents.

"Where is she?"

My mother's face remained emotionless.

"She's not here."

My stomach twisted.

"What did you do?"

"Watch your tone, Amara," my father warned.

I stepped closer.

"I called her. She told me to come here. Now she's gone, and you're standing in her house with strangers?"

One of the men shifted slightly.

I noticed.

They weren't ordinary security guards.

Something about the way they stood made me uneasy.

My father sighed.

"You're making this more difficult than it needs to be."

"No. You are."

I picked up my suitcase.

"I'm leaving."

I turned toward the door.

One of the men stepped in front of it.

I stopped.

Slowly, I looked at him.

"Move."

He didn't.

My heart began pounding, but I refused to let them see fear on my face.

My father spoke from behind me.

"You're going home with us."

I laughed bitterly.

"I don't think so."

"Amara."

His voice was firm.

"You have a meeting tomorrow."

"With who?"

He didn't answer immediately.

Then he said a name that made my blood run cold.

"Alexander Devereaux."

I stared at him.

"No."

My father looked at the men.

"Take her home."

I stepped backward.

"Don't touch me."

For the first time, my voice cracked.

But I quickly steadied myself.

I wasn't going to give them the satisfaction of seeing me break.

If they thought I was going to quietly accept this marriage...

They had seriously underestimated me.