Chapter Four

“I’m never going to marry you.”

Truce stares at me with a neutral expression, not seeming bothered by my strong rejection. 

He looks immaculately handsome in a well-tailored, crisp black suit. His hair is left to fall his back in a neat, silk wave, and his deadly handsome face is cold as ever. To be honest I’ve never seen a man hotter.

Truce shruggles. “You stole my words.” His voice is deep and emotionless and his green eyes are as fiery as ever. I spot the dimples on both of his cheeks as he speaks. I remember very vividly when I could die to see those dimples. 

They sank in deeply whenever he spoke, a sharp contrast to his cold features. Without them, he would have looked even less human.

“Focus, Janelle,” my inner voice chastises.

I shake the thoughts of Truce off my mind and remind myself that I’m madly angry at him.

I glare at Truce and the tall, handsome man standing behind his chair, who I assume to be his assistant.

“What makes you think you have the right to show up in my life ever again?” 

We are seated in one of Greece’s most expensive tea houses.

“It couldn’t be helped. How have you been J?” 

For a man of Thirty, he looks almost younger than I remember. That’s impossible, right?

I roll my eyes at him, anger rising to my throat. Spending the last ten years with Theodore had made me realize how much he loved his son, but Truce was never ready to give him a chance. Each time Theodore tried to reach out, Truce pushed him away. And now his father was dead all he was talking about was marriage. And why? For some fucken master plan!

“Drop the nice act Truce! I bet you never cared. Your father is barely cold and you haven’t talked about him since you came here.”

Truce's face becomes harder than it already is. “Don’t tell me about Theodore.” That sounds like a warning.

I take a breath. “Then I guess our conversation is done here.” I rise to leave.

“You were eager to marry me ten years ago. What changed?” His fiery eyes pierce through my cold skin, sending warmth rushing through my blood.

I stare at him in disbelief and start laughing hysterically. “Have you lost your memory? What were your words; “I’ll never marry you because you’re not good enough for me.” I guess I’m just helping you keep your word.”

Theodore stands up and walks towards me, hands in his trouser pockets. His calculating eyes bore into mine. 

“The feeling hasn’t changed. Do you want to know about the Inner Circle? Marry me, and I’ll tell you everything. Plus, I think we have the same revenge goal. What could go wrong? It’s a contract marriage and it doesn’t stop you from living your normal life however and with whoever you want.”

“You missed something out.” I adjust my white ankle-length body hug gown and give him the most confident expression I can muster.”

His brows furrow. “What?”

“What’s in it for you? Why do you want to get married to the same woman you rejected ten years ago?”

Truce's countenance visibly changes from the cold mask to uneasiness which he tries hard to hide. He shares a look with Alex, before turning to me. “I don’t think it would be necessary to disclose my reason…”

I hiss, grab my white Zara handbag and walk past him.

“You need to know about the Inner Circle and you need to get revenge on them,” my inner, mind reminds me, but I ignore her. I’ll get my revenge on my own and Truce King can go burn in hell…

The sudden banging of the tea house door brings me out of my angry thoughts. I look up to see a group of armed policemen walking towards me. I stop walking, confused.

Truce is by my side in a shocking, impossible instant. His extraordinarily warm hands cover mine, and surprisingly, he pulls me behind him in a protective stance.

“What’s going on?” He asks the uniformed men.

The leader seems to recognize Truce and the fear in his eyes is unmissable. “Mr King, I’m sorry if we’re interrupting anything.”

Wow? They recognized him. Is he that popular?

“You’re. Explain yourself.” Truce’s voice is as hard as concrete.

“We’re from the INTERPOL and Miss Ronan Janelle is under arrest for the murder of Mr Theodore King. She has the right to remain silent or anything she says would be used against her in the Court of law. She also has the right to an attorney.”

“What?” I mutter in disbelief. What the hell are these men saying? Someone is obviously framing me here, but why? Does this have to do with the Inner Circle?

The police officer flashes the warrant and Truce takes it. His face and countenance are as calm as always, but I can feel his body trembling beside me. A sharp shudder runs through his spine and I hear a familiar low animal-like growl hiss from his lips.

I glare at him wide-eyed. Fear spreads slowly over my body for two reasons. First, why am I being arrested for the murder of Theodore and secondly, perhaps are the rumours of Truce King true?

The Policeman pushes past Truce and starts to handcuff me. Truce takes a step forward, but Alex quickly holds his arms, whispering something to him.

When I find the courage to look into Truce’s blazing green eyes, I’m shocked at what I see there. Not anger or disbelief, but rather worry.

The police pull me with him to the door of the tea house and into the Black police Van. I don’t resist him, I don’t even have the strength to.

I’m being arrested for the murder of my Father in a foreign country, where am all alone and I know no one. I feel tears slip down my cheeks as I’m suddenly reminded of this day ten years ago. 

The fear I had felt when I got the news of my father’s death creeps in until I can taste it.

What’s going to happen to me now?

I read the news on the small television in the Van.

Doctor Janelle Ronan, a renowned, beautiful, hot-shot neurosurgeon arrested for the murder of her adopted father who she had been poisoning slowly for months now. Luckily, the police found evidence of her crime after a search and seizure was conducted on her house. 

The big question of the media is; why would a successful surgeon like Janelle murder the man who had raised her after the dismissal of her biological father?

Someone has framed me for murder for a reason best known to them, but I hope they know this: picking a snake by its tail carelessly is as good as craving your own demise!