A Marriage of Convenience

Chapter 1: Reina

Seven Months Earlier

“Liam Manon?”

Roland Giovanni sighed. Not one of those rewarding contented sighs indicating you've done something good. No, it was the one I was well-acquainted with since the moment I was born.

Disappointment.

Let's just say I was glad his bodyguard even let me in his office. Granted, I always had to find a way to distract him so I could barge in unannounced and ruin the rest of his day before breakfast can be served hot on the always empty dining table. I guess you can say neither of us wins the family member of the year award.

I stop in front of his desk in an attempt for intimidation. Not that I would know that it worked because my father was too busy screwing the pages of what I can only assume is the latest report of The New York Times with his eyes to spare me a glance.

“Liam Manon?” I repeated.

"I think you've properly established that that is his name."

"You can't be serious, Father. Why him? Give me another. I'll even take that snotty Alistair boy who can't keep his hands to himself to save his life."

He sets down the documents next to the cold cup of coffee I'm sure had been sitting on that desk at five in the morning. Gives you a hint about the only thing he loved in the world. For sure, that's not his family, no matter how contradicting his supposed morals he so loved to boast to his business partners about.

I bet you there's more blood on his pinky finger than there are morals on his entire body.

"I've already arranged your flight and hotel to Meridan City. This is not up for negotiation."

Not up for debate my ass. "Are you hearing yourself? He is a Manon, for Christ's sake. You know his family can take a whiff of foul play at the slightest mistake of hitting a low draw at a golf course."

"Then that's a good thing you remember how to putt."

I lean my body weight on my good foot. Oh, he has jokes, has he?

I grit my teeth. "I'm not joking, Father. They will have my head if he knew who I was. Need I remind you how Manon Sr. spends the entirety of his own free time trying to find ways to get rid of you? If he doesn't know about me, he eventually will from his daddy dearest."

He placed both palms flat on the desk and pushed himself up from his office chair. "That won't be a problem."

I frown. "What are you talking about?"

"There's a reason I chose him for you." He circles the desk and stops in front of me. I resist the urge to let my feet fall back. The last thing I wanted him to know is that his height still intimidates me. Where my brothers got theirs from our father, I got mine from my mother. Real stereotype Jesus made me out to be, huh?

I tilt my head so my eyes were angled on his, subtly gritting my teeth. "Liam Manon had disowned his family . . ." he checks his watch, "twelve hours ago."

I'm not even going to ask how he got that information. Knowing Roland Giovanni, it probably didn't take much. He had more connection than nerves in the human body.

But what I'm more shocked about was that the middle son had clipped his wings and left the nest voluntarily. In the world of powerful and ruthless families, which his family is a part of, that's like setting yourself up for your own murder. My father might be a bad man, but the head of the Manon family could give Bundy a run for his money. It's not a coincidence that half of the Manon enemies had mysteriously disappeared in the course of five years.

A lot of people desire retribution in this line of business, no matter in what form it takes. Trust is a luxury that if had will stab you in the back without remorse.

"Why?" I clip.

"Wanted to pave his own way in the world, or some bullshit. You know how it goes. Spoiled little shits think they can do anything but comes running back to their roots when they run out of their inheritance money."

"Sound familiar?" I bite back. As soon as the words escape my mouth, my heart threatens to escape my chest.

There's little that could rattle Papa Giovanni. Once upon a time, I embodied a jack in a box when it came to him. But now that the tricks in my sleeves ran out, every day's a challenge I work twice as hard to overcome.

And me shoving my brothers' betrayal in my father's face is not just the carrot on top, it's the bull's eye on the dart board.

Father always kept me under his thumb, a way of trying to control me when he failed to control my older brothers.

Not that those self-centered assholes could be called family anymore. Where they left our father when his third wife died, I stayed behind as the only child he had left to acknowledge.

Our father always had the best interest of our family in mind. Even if that meant keeping me unhappily in line.

My unease dissipated when a small smile etched its way past his wringly cheeks.

"As much as you want to piss me off, you have to try again tomorrow. Today's a special day." He moves away and I exhale a breath I didn't know I was holding.

I follow him to the other side of the room where he picks up a decanter and pours himself a scotch neat. Time be damned with him. Roland does what he wants, whenever he wants, and if he wants to drink himself to death at seven in the morning, I'll gladly stand and watch him choke on it.

"Mind enlightening me?"

"Why, it's your last day at the manor, of course. I want to spend time with my daughter before she starts her new assignment tomorrow."

“What makes you think I’ll do it?”

“Because I said so.” He lifts the whiskey glass in offering. Like I always do, I turn him down.

“You know, I’m starting to get tired of you taking over my life.”

“What life?” He downs his drink in one go. “As far as my children goes, you are my most loyal one, malen'kiy ogon'. There’s nothing you wouldn’t do for me.”

In some cases, that should make me proud. Being the only child left to have stuck it out in this family.

But all I feel was disgust for myself. Not that I would let it show on my face.

At least my brothers had the sense to have pushed their luck and ran away. God knows my father would rather die than make one of his children the successor of his business once he passed away. He wouldn’t risk us conspiring against him. It has happened once.

No, that’s not why I stayed. It’s much more shallow than wanting a rightful claim to lifelong financial security.

“That's why two of your children left. Because you ask too much from us.”

He sets the glass down on the crystal side table. Fingers immediately fly to my head, tucking a stray lock of hair behind my ear.

I immediately still. My father was everything in the book of malice, one of them being unpredictable. Hot and cold. You never know if he shows genuine affection or simply just a mask to throw you off before he yanks you down to your knees and wipes your head across the freshly waxed floor. Despite how many times he’s touched me, I never once learned a pattern.

His jet-black eyes are as menacing as his calloused hands, big and rough, that could pierce through the toughest men. I’ve learned to fear him, but never to bow down to everything he desires.

Each day I’ve lived in this house was a potential scar waiting to be branded on me. Treading carefully was of no use. If he was in a bad mood, he’d make you feel it.

Seconds passed what felt like minutes. He must have meant it when he said today was a special day because his thumb stroked my cheek. “But you're still here, moya lyubov.”

This time I kept silent, not because he was wrong. Because my staying at the Giovanni Manor was by choice.

As quick as his affection showed, it disappeared and he walked away. I exhale. “The Manons will stay busy eyeing my every move. They don’t know much about you—“

“Because I’m a bastard’s daughter?”

“Exactly," he says, without a hint of wariness. "They won’t suspect you closing in with the renounced son. Tread carefully, Reina. Liam is not exactly known for his pliability.”

“That checks out. I’m going to die, do you want that? Just because his family’s busy dealing with your s**t doesn’t mean they have completely forgotten about him.”

“Do not fret, my dear. I’ll handle his family’s musings. You lay bearing with the exiled son.”

I scoff. "As if that's an easy task. The Manon family have their own security company. If I snoop around, they'll know."

My father's jaw ticked. "Are you refusing my command to hide your incompetence?" He raised his chin with indifference.

I am by no means incapable of whatever suicide mission he has in store for me. I've proven that to him numerous times. His insult was no means of intending to call out a truth. He was just a flat-out agitator.

When I take too long to answer, he immediately shoves his face in front of mine. This time, I failed to show bravery as my feet scramble to put distance between us until my back is against the wall. "I don't have to remind you what will happen if you refuse me, moya lyubov."

I grind my molars, not wanting to snap at him or else he'll lash out at me. Specifically, at my back.

He fists my neck. "You will take Liam Manon before the Red Rose Ball. You will have him before me without arousing any suspicions to my name. And you will not get caught. Do you understand me?"

I would have answered him if he was not cutting my airways. Like routine, he lets go of me right before my suffocation could do much damage.

The backs of my knees buckled, but I managed to grip the side table to keep upright. To keep him from seeing my weakness.

"What's my given timeframe?" I managed to choke out amid my gasping for breath.

"Two months."

Amid my recovery, I mange to let out a snort. "If you want me to seduce a powerful heir, at least give me four. I'm betting I'm not the only one who's tried a stunt like this. He's not gullible."

"But he is your age."

"Yeah, and that permits a free f**k ticket." He stared at me with a look of understanding. I straighten my back. "You're not pimping me out to some stranger."

"You don't have to sleep with him."

"Believe it or not, forming a connection is not the same as plugging in a Wi-fi router. It takes time."

"Then do it within the frame I'm giving you."

"It's not enou—"

"Figure it out."

I steel my mouth shut. I know better when to pick my battles, and Roland Giovanni using that sharp tone is a battleground no one should ever dare to step on.

"Do not disappoint me."

When have I ever? I wanted to ask. But instead, I say, "I won’t, father."

He doesn't show a look of satisfaction. No, he wouldn't until I pulled through. "Damien will give you an alibi."

My stomach sank knowing what it meant. Still, I nod and head to the door not wanting to have a conversation with him anymore.

"Reina." I halt, but don't look back. "You leave tomorrow, but don't you dare come back without that boy."

I leave with a slam on the door, my dignity intact, and a prayer not to screw up with the Manon kid or else I'll come back home without a head.