"All you have to do is marry him, Evelyn. Two years—just two years—and you'll be free to live whatever life you desire" my father said, his tone indifferent, like he wasn't asking me to hand over my life for the sake of his selfish interest.
I stared at him from across his brown massive oak desk, my hands balled into fists. I'd barely stepped back into Chicago, excited to finally take my place in the shipping company, and here he was, treating me like one of his commodities ready to be shipped.
Worse, he wanted me to marry him—Leonard Sinclair.
Someone who derived happiness in hurting other people. Just thinking of his name made me boil.
He used to taunt me at family gatherings—pull on my braids and hide my stuff-stuffs and do his damnedest to make me cry. And he was six years older than me. I mean, I was a precocious kid who tried to tag along with the teens, but what kind of thirteen-year-old douchebag torments a seven year-old for fun?
Apparently, only Leonard Sinclair. It was like every time I saw him, he left tears rolling down my cheeks.
Even back then, his mouth was the worst of him, calling me names like
"spoiled doll" and "little girl" and "princess." Words that maybe shouldn't
have hit so hard, but they did.
"That egoistic and arrogant ass of a human. That's who you want me to marry?" I spat.
"That egoistic and arrogant ass of a human is our secured ticket in wealth for the future. He's a successful businessman," my father replied, as if that somehow excused years of torment from that f****er.
"But I don't want to get married to him, I don't even like him" I said sharply, glaring at my boots to avoid meeting his eyes.
"You're acting like I'm asking you to sacrifice your life," he replied, leaning back in his chair. " Don't worry, you'll grow to like him. He's a grown lovely man now. And this is what is good for you"
I scoffed. "For you, you mean."
He let out a humorless chuckle. "Darling, this isn't about me. This is about the future of the Moore name. It's about the future of the company"
I clenched my teeth, willing myself to stay calm. "I thought I was the future of this company," I said, my voice low. "I thought that's why you sent me to business school. To run the company. To—"
"Enough, Evelyn," he interrupted, his voice sharp. "You should've known better. The company was never going to be all yours. Marriage is a partnership, and this one benefits everyone."
"Everyone but me," I muttered, crossing my arms.
He ignored my jab and leaned forward, his tone softening, as if he cared about the way I was feeling, he didn't. "You're my only child, Evelyn. If I can't pass the company to a son, the least you can do is strengthen it. Marrying Sinclair's son will ensure our future—and mine, especially with my campaign coming up."
There it was. His campaign. His ambitions. It'd never been about me. It was always about him.
"I love the company, I can—"
"Okay, after two years without any drama or headache, there'll be a place for you in the company, trust me" he said, interrupting me. I didn't trust him. I knew it was probably his way of making me to come in terms with his decision which I didn't even have any say at.
"In that case, be ready to meet him tomorrow, okay?"
My chest tightened, anger bubbling beneath the surface. "Tomorrow?"
He sighed, already tired of the conversation. "This meeting is over, Evelyn. The decision is final."
Before I could argue, he picked up his phone, dismissing me without another glance.
I stormed out of the office, slamming the door very loudly behind me.
"You've got to be fucking kidding me," I muttered under my breath.
---
Later that evening, I sat at the bar nursing my third—or was it fourth?—glass of tequila. Maya, my best friend, perched on the stool beside me, watching me drown my sorrows with mild amusement.
"You can't actually marry him," she said, her tone half-serious.
"I don't have a choice," I replied, swirling the amber liquid in my glass. "My father will kill me if I refuse. Probably literally."
Maya laughed. "Oh, come on. Don't be too sad. He's not that bad."
I shot her a look.
"Okay, fine, he's awful," she admitted. "But look on the bright side. Leonard Sinclair is hot. I mean, if I had to marry someone, I wouldn't mind marrying him."
I groaned. "You can have him. I'll gladly trade places."
"Don't tempt me," she said, grinning. "But seriously, Evelyn, what's the worst that could happen? You might even end up liking him, who knows."
I snorted. "Liking Leo is an impossible one. There's nothing to like about that boy. He's been an egotistical asshole since we were kids. Like when he used to pull my braids at family parties? Or when he once dumped a plate of spaghetti on my head just for laughs while I cried? Or when he pushed me off the seesaw just to see me cry?"
"Yikes, spaghetti…" Maya said, wincing. "But that was, what, over a decade ago? People can grow up. I've seen his pictures a lot. Maybe he's changed?"
People like Leonard never change.
"I doubt it," I said, downing the rest of my drink. "The guy lives to make other people miserable. If anything, he's probably worse now. Richer, cockier, and even more insufferable. And now I'm supposed to marry him? For two whole years? God!"
Maya leaned closer, her voice conspiratorial. "Or you could run away. Leave Chicago. Start over somewhere new."
"And be disowned? No, thanks, I'll literally be homeless and hopeless. Plus there's no hideout away from my father" I said, waving the bartender over for a refill.
The bartender—a ridiculously cute guy with tattoos running up his arm—poured me another drink. For a moment, I considered flirting with him, just to forget my problems. He was wearing a green shirt that flexed his muscles. He was hot or was it the alcohol?
I blinked my eyes twice but he was still very cute with his full brows and hairy hand. He finished pouring my liquor and turned to the left to attend to another customer. I shifted towards Maya and pulled her closer so that her ear was close enough.
"Don't you think that bartender is cute?" I whispered into her ear
She stifled a laugh and whispered back "Maybe you are just very high"
"I swear," I muttered, turning back to Maya, "what I need right now is four orgasms. Maybe five. Or ten. Enough to make me forget this whole nightmare."
Maya burst out laughing. "Girl, yes! That's exactly what you need. Let's find you someone."
She started scanning the room, her eyes landing on a guy in a red jacket. "What about him? He looks fun."
I glanced at him and shook my head. "Hard pass. He has this face that screams I hate parties"
"You're impossible, I give up" Maya said, throwing up her hands.
"Better to be impossible than stuck in a marriage with Leonard Sinclair," I muttered, taking another gulp of my drink.
"Well, if you're stuck with him for two years, you might as well make the most of it," Maya said, her tone teasing.
"Make the most of it?" I echoed, raising an eyebrow.
She grinned. "You know, turn the tables. Drive him crazy. Make him regret this arrangement."
A laugh escaped me before I could stop it. "Now that's an idea." I sucked on my bottom lip as I started thinking about it. I could survive two years and then take my seat in my father's company.
Just then, a hand landed on my waist. I froze, turning sharply to see who it was.
"Evelyn," a familiar voice said.
It was Kingsley—my ex. His smile was smug, like he thought I'd be thrilled to see him. He made me sick in my brain—all men did.
"Hey," he said, leaning in closer than necessary. "I didn't know you were back in town."
"Hi, Kings," I replied, forcing a tight smile and pushing his hand off me. "What do you want?"
He looked taken aback by my coldness but recovered quickly. "Just wanted to catch up. Maybe we could—"
My phone buzzed in my bag, cutting him off. Grateful for the distraction, I fished it out and saw my father's name on the screen.
Kings walked away from me and went to say hi to Maya.
I sighed and answered. "Yes, Dad?"
"Come home now. Someone is here to see you."
My stomach sank. I didn't need to ask who. I already knew. The chill in my father's tone told me everything I needed.
My childhood tormentor. My future husband. Leonard Sinclair.