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Reine's pov:
"So this is my replacement bride"
His voice is flat and uninterested. I narrow my eyes.
"I'm sorry for the inconvenience," Dad says, his voice meek like the coward he is.
An inconvenience, I nearly scoff.
"We'll leave you two to talk," he continues, his gaze boring into me as a silent warning.
I don't look at him though. Let him fret. He locks me in for a day and expects me to be his obedient little pet.
But deep down, I know I cannot offend this man.
I might be ruthless, but I'm no killer. I am like a cat in front of a lion.
From a purely physical standpoint, I find Mr Echo more than a little attractive.
Would I roll in the sheets with him if I saw him outside? Absolutely not.
Yes, he is tall, slightly muscled, impeccably dressed in a dark three-piece suit-everything perfectly ironed, black hair gelled to perfection.
The exact version of a golden boy, I shudder.
Absolutely f*****g not.
We stay there with him standing, me still seated staring blandly at him.
What the hell is his deal, I decide.
I break the silence.
"Mr Damien," I say, putting on my most polite face, "it's nice to finally meet you."
I cringe inside.
"This is acceptable for you, I assume." he asks
I nearly roll my eyes but stop just in time.
"Yes," I simply say, hoping he cannot see how appalled I am.
I gesture toward a seat to my left.
"Would you like to sit down for our talk?"
He says nothing as he walks toward the sofa and sits.
Prim and proper. I nearly gag.
"I assume your father told you that our wedding is planned for tomorrow?"
I start at that.
What?
I rest my hands in my lap, linking my fingers. There is less chance of him noticing my trembling.
I grit my teeth as I nod slowly.
Tomorrow.
I repeat in my mind.
I'll be damned if I let that happen.
But I play my part at least for now.
"Use your words," he says, unbuttoning his top button and leaning back.
I clench my fists.
"Yes, I had been informed days back."
"I realize that's inconvenient, but my father retires at the end of the year, and it is expected of me to be married when I take over his position."
I am surprised he is telling me this. I expect him to just go along with the marriage and skip all this boring as f**k chit chat.
I say nothing.
What do you even say to that?
"Very well," he says eventually. "It will be a small gathering of close family and the press."
I nod.
"Good". We are done here, he says, rising.
My eyes follow his movement, settling on a very inappropriate area.
Well... wow, I think in my head, a small bit of respect forming despite myself.
"And Miss Dawn," he says.
I look up.
"I would like you to learn to use your words. I need my wife to be smart."
Tsk.
I scoff in my mind, not even getting annoyed.
If only you knew.
"Why did you choose me? I'm sure there were many other viable options," I ask instead.
" I know how this works, Mr Echo. You would have done your research. My reputation is not the best."
I have been wondering about this. I know it is a question I am not supposed to ask.
But I also know how I am seen in society.
The crazy Dawn.
I do not lie, I enjoy the term. But I thought a man like him would want someone more obedient.
His expression does not change.
"As you know, it was supposed to be your sister. But since she is no longer available, I will have to settle."
A flicker of annoyance rises in me.
"Do not worry, Miss. As my wife, you will learn your place eventually," he says as he walks toward the door.
I lean back in my seat, a smile crossing my face.
If I had not already decided not to marry, I would have taken him up on the challenge.
He reaches the door, then stops.
He turns suddenly, catching me off guard as I quickly fix my expression.
I see a flash of something in his eye but it disappears as quickly as it comes.
His head tilts slightly as he takes me in.
"I will see you on the altar, Reine."
And then he walks out.
As I sit there, I realize I have unconsciously clenched my legs.
"Reine". My name has never sounded like that before.
Dangerous.
Dad walks in with Mila minutes later.
He stares at me, his gaze suspicious.
"I hope you used your brains, child."
"That man is not to be trifled with."
"What is this, Papa? You cannot expect me to get married to that statue," I complain.
"He seems important. You honestly expect me to keep him happy."
Father scoffs.
"You cannot keep anyone happy, child. You are destruction."
I shut my mouth, knowing what he means.
My mother died when I was born. A joyous day turned sorrowful.
They were happy, I have been told. I ruined that. And since then, it has been this way.
He hardly remembers he has a daughter, and I do everything to remind him in the worst ways possible.
"You will get married, child. There is no use fighting it."
"Your sister needs time to make her choice. You will have to give her that."
Mila stands there, eyes down. His words should hurt me, but I am used to it now.
"This should not be necessary, Reine," he says, gesturing to my locked room with no remorse in his dark gaze.
"This is important. We have a strong foothold, but we need a stronger one, and this will be our chance."
My father searches my face. I want to ask what that stupid expression is-concern? Sadness? Pity? Does he even care?
"And if I refuse?" I ask.
He chuckles.
"Dearest Mila is pregnant. Did you know that?"
My head snaps toward Mila so fast I feel it.
She is pale.
Too pale.
"Mila..." my voice comes out low.
She cannot even look at me.
"You think I wouldn't know?" my father says calmly, almost bored.
His disappointment is louder than anger.
"Jethro." He calls out
The door opens again immediately.
Jethro his right hand steps in.
And with him...
Hunter.
Or what is left of him.
My stomach twists.
His face is badly beaten, blood dried at the corner of his lip, his body barely holding itself together.
Mila breaks, shaking where she stands.
"Mila..." he chokes out.
"Father," she pleads, her voice cracking, "I'm begging you...."
She doesn't get to finish.
"Enough," father says coldly.
Jethro."
Before I can process it, Hunter is forced lower.
Mila lets out a broken gasp as a gun is pressed to the back of his head.
"No please!" she cries, dropping to her knees.
I don't move. But anger surges through me.
Reine, please!" she cries, turning to me. "Help me!"
she sobs. "Please..."
And for the first time today, father smiles.
"What will it be, Reine dear?"
My throat feels tight, but I keep my expression steady.
He tilts his head slightly.
"Choose."
- Writer
