The Price of Power
Gold chandeliers shone down on a sea of high society elite, making the ballroom glitter. Standing in the middle of it all, Helena Sinclair's emerald green gown swept around her like a silk river as she stood in the midst of it all. For quite some time, she had mastered the skill of maintaining a blank expression among an array of smiley snake faces, where alliances were sealed with champagne flutes and not trust.
Just another night of formality—a fundraiser held by her father, Richard Sinclair, one of the country’s most powerful business icons. Yet Helena felt a palpable tension upon her arrival. The nearly predatory sparkle in her father's eye when he gave her that coerced smile-how she ought to have made that her initial warning. Richard's thunderous voice echoed through the ballroom's sound system, drowning out the muted conversations.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” Richard’s voice boomed through the sound system, suppressing hushed discussions across the ballroom. He appeared upstairs like a king addressing his court. “Tonight I have the privilege not only to announce a merger to strengthen our business empire but a union that shall unite two formidable families.”
Helena's blood turned cold.
She no longer needed to wait for her father to say something else. She wrapped her fingers around the exquisitely fragile crystal stem of a champagne glass, which looked like it might break if she held onto it.
"My daughter, Helena Sinclair, shall wed Damien Wolfe."
Gasps rippled through the crowd. Applause followed. By now, Helena barely heard any of it through the roar in her ears.
She swung around to search for the man whose name had just sealed her fate. And there he was—Damien Wolfe. He stood just inside the ballroom, his unreadable gaze fixed upon her. Tall, with dark hair and impeccable attire, Damien exuded an aura of dominion. His unforgiving gray eyes seemed to strip her naked.
He had known.
Fury ripped through her. This was far more than a business arrangement—her father was playing with her future as if she were nothing but yet another pawn on his chessboard. And Damien Wolfe had the audacity to approve.
Setting the glass down before she shattered it, she walked past her father. And as if by instinct, the guests parted before her, sensing the storm in her wake.
"What the hell is this?" she hissed, keeping her voice so low that only Richard could hear.
Not sparing her but the briefest of glances, her father dismissed her with, "It is a necessary arrangement."
"For whom?" she hissed. "Certainly not for me."
"For the family, Helena," he said dismissively and matter-of-factly. You will abide by the conditions." While clenching her fists, she dug her nails into her palms. I won't get married to him.
With clenched fists, she dug her nails into her palms. "I'm not going to marry him."
His gaze sharpened further. "Yes, you will."
A chill coursed through her. This wasn't a request. It was a command.
"Helena," another voice smoothly interrupted. Damien Wolfe had arrived, shrouded in dark shadow beside her father. "Perhaps we should discuss this in private."
She whipped around. "Oh, now you want to talk?
"You knew this, and you didn't see fit to tell me?"
Damien's face betrayed no emotion. "I thought your father would speak with you prior to the announcement."
Helena laughed bitterly. "Then you don't know my father very well."
A muscle ticked in Damien's jaw. "Anyway, we should talk."
Helena wanted to refuse, to put her foot down, but she knew it wouldn't matter. The trap had already been set by her father. Now she'd have to figure a way out of it.
"Alright."
Damien held out his arm, but she refused to acknowledge it and strode ahead with her chin held high. If there was to be a war for her freedom, then it would be on her terms.
