My Billionaire Frenemy

Chapter 2

Mara's POV

My protests fell on deaf ears. Dad, ever the optimist, dismissed my concerns with a hearty chuckle. "Nonsense, Mara! This is a golden opportunity for you and Jason to get to know each other. Consider it early bonding time!"

He winked, completely oblivious to the daggers flying between Jason and me. Mr. King, however, seemed to pick up on the underlying tension. His booming laughter softened into a gentle hum as he nudged his son. "Come on, Jason, be kind to her. She's your future partner after all."

My head whipped around, eyes locked on Mr. King's jovial face. "Partner?" I breathed, the words echoing in the sudden silence.

Before I could delve deeper, Jason scoffed, the amusement momentarily fading from his eyes. "Don't get ahead of yourself, sweetheart. I haven't decided if I will accept you as my charity case yet."

The sting of his words sent a fresh wave of anger crashing over me. I clenched my fists, the urge to unleash a verbal tirade warring with the ironclad terms of my modelling contract. Instead, I settled for a withering glare, wishing looks could indeed kill.

The restaurant bustled around us, oblivious to the storm brewing at our table. The fathers seemed to have missed his words. When I looked over, they were already deep in an animated conversation, reminiscing about their war exploits.

Mr. King would occasionally glance our way, his smile strained as he noticed his son and I haven't backed down from glaring at each other.

"So, Mara," he began, his voice booming yet gentle. "Tell me about your studies. Are you as passionate about business as your father?"

I opened my mouth to reply, but Jason beat me to it. "She wouldn't know passion if it hit her in the face," he drawled, a sardonic smirk playing on his lips. "Modelling seems more her speed, wouldn't you agree, sweetheart?"

His voice dripped with condescension. I forced a smile, my insides burning with indignation. "Actually, Jason," I started, my voice deceptively calm. "Modelling is just a means to an end. Unlike some people, I actually have to work for my stuff."

His smirk faltered, replaced by a flicker of anger. Our fathers, sensing the escalating tension, tried to intervene, but Jason ignored their effort at changing the topic.

"Oh, really?" he challenged, leaning closer. "And what exactly would that end be, princess? To snag yourself a rich sugar daddy?"

"Enough, Jason!" Mr. King boomed, his voice laced with a hint of warning. But Jason only sneered.

"Or maybe she's already snagged one," he continued, his gaze fixed on me, "a desperate father willing to sell his daughter's future for a chance at his own dreams."

"What… what do you mean?" I stammered, my voice barely a whisper.

Before anyone could answer, the waiter arrived with our food. The clinking of plates momentarily filled the silence, but the tension remained thick. I stared at my plate, appetite gone.

Jason, however, seemed to relish the awkwardness. He kept sniggering and muttering under his breath.

Finally, I couldn't hold it in any longer. "Just say it, Jason," I burst out, the carefully constructed dam of silence breaking. "What do you know?"

A cruel smile stretched across his face. "Only that your precious father had some financial troubles," he drawled, "and decided to sell you off like a prize pony to secure funding for his little business venture."

His words hit me like a physical blow. I stared at him, my mind reeling. Sell me off? To him? It was unthinkable, impossible.

But as I looked into his mocking eyes, I could see he was dead serious. My eyes darted to my father, but he was suddenly very engrossed with his wine.

A lump formed in my throat, choking back the sob that threatened to erupt.

Before I could process the raw emotions churning within me, Jason leaned in, his voice a venomous whisper. "I'm so going to enjoy this."

Then, with a flourish, he pushed his chair back and sauntered away, leaving me drowning in disbelief and despair. My father, his head hung low, kept sneaking glances at me through the corners of his eyes.

Numbly, I pushed the untouched food around my plate, tears blurring my vision.

Rage, betrayal, and despair warred within me. I wanted to scream, to lash out, to break something, anything. But the last vestiges of self-control held me back. Public outbursts were not part of my carefully curated image.

It was the only chance I had out of this mess now. I couldn't risk it.

The suffocating silence stretched on, punctuated only by the clinking of cutlery and hushed murmurs from nearby tables. My father finally cleared his throat, his voice thick with shame. "Mara, I..."

"Don't," I choked out, the word laced with venom. "Just don't."

He flinched, the pain in his eyes mirroring my own. "I had no choice," he pleaded, his voice breaking. "I just knew this particular idea would bloom and he just happened to have the same exact…"

"And I became your bargaining chip," I finished for him, my voice cold and emotionless. "To save your dreams, you were willing to sacrifice mine."

He reached out to touch my hand, but I recoiled, the gesture feeling more like a betrayal than a comfort. "It wasn't like that, Mara. I thought it was a chance for you, a secure future..."

"Secure with Jason King?" I scoffed, the bitterness rising in my throat. "The same boy who delights in making my life miserable? That's your idea of security?"

Tears welled up in his eyes, glistening like unwanted diamonds. "He didn't use to be like this," he whispered, his voice choked with emotion. "King said he's a sweet…."

His words trailed off as he looked at me helplessly.

I looked at him, not with hate, but with a profound sadness that mirrored mine. He was a man driven by his dreams. He had been chasing them ever since mum died.

Suddenly, the restaurant door swung open, and Jason sauntered back in, a smirk playing on his lips. He stopped next to me, his eyes gleaming.

"Don't worry," he leaned in, his voice a menacing whisper. "I'll make sure you never forget this day. I'll be the worst husband you could ever imagine, a constant reminder of your father's folly."

His words were like a slap in the face, jolting me out of my stupor. My anger finally boiled over.

"You think you can control me, Jason?" I hissed, my voice surprisingly steady. "Think again. I may not have had a choice in this, but I'm not someone you can push around. I'm going to fight this marriage,"

He sneered. But before he could reply, I pushed my chair back and stood up.

"Excuse me," I said to my father, my voice almost cracking.

Then, turning to the stunned Mr. King, I added, "Thank you for the… interesting evening."

Without another word, I marched out of the restaurant, leaving the bewildered adults and the unfinished meal behind.

Tears streamed down my face as I gazed at the cars hooting on the highway.

I wouldn't be a victim. This wasn't the end, but the beginning. I would fight, not for the life I once envisioned, but for the one I would carve out on my own terms. Jason King and his father had underestimated me. They thought they could buy me, control me. But they were wrong.

I was Mara Walker, and I wouldn't go down without a fight.