Chapter 2

UNWANTED ENGAGEMENT

You know that feeling when your stomach starts churning right before you're about to go on a rollercoaster? That's exactly how I felt outside Dad's study. I could barely even grab the doorknob because my hand was so sweaty. It was never a good sign to be called to the study, but this time? It felt different, like something was off.

I took a deep breath, trying to calm myself down. "It's okay, Kylie," I muttered to myself. "You probably forgot to do something minor; no big deal." I pushed the door open and walked in, trying to pep talk myself into feeling better.

"Man, was this room always this stuffy?" I quizzed, Dad's cigar made the place smell like a truck, and I swear the walls were closing in on me. Dad looked all broody and serious behind his desk. He motioned toward the chair across from him and said, "Sit down, Kylie."

As I perched on the edge of the seat, I felt like a little kid in the principal's office. "What's up, Dad?" I tried to sound casual, but I think I came off somewhere between squeaky and terrified.

He just stared at me for what seemed like forever. I started counting the ticks of the grandfather clock in the corner, wondering if he had forgotten how to talk or if I had gone momentarily deaf.

Finally, he delivered the bombshell. "The agreement is now in effect. You will be marrying Lysander Vincenzo."

It felt like some crazy dream; for a moment, I thought I had fallen asleep. I even pinched myself under the desk. "Ouch," I was not entirely sure if I was fully awake.

"Wait, what?" I exclaimed. "Is this some kind of joke, Dad? Because if it is, your timing is way off."

His expression told me that it wasn't a joke at all. "The deal is set. When you turn eighteen, you'll be marrying Lysander Vincenzo."

My mind went haywire. This can't be real. How can my life be over before it even begins? Arranged marriages in this day and age? Am I in some kind of period drama?

I stuttered, "But... but I don't know him." "I haven't even seen him! He could be a serial killer for all I know, or have some weird obsession with feet or something."

Dad raised his eyes at that last bit, and then he straightened himself fast. "That has nothing to do." This union will confirm our partnership with the Vincenzo family. Our future depends on it absolutely.

"Our future?" I repeated, my voice raising to a level dogs could hear. "What about my next? I do have some say in this. What if I wanted to work as a professional cheese taster or practically anything else or join the circus?"

"No," Dad answered, one syllable cutting off my aspirations for cheese-tasting. "This is final. This decision is."

Though I blinked fiercely, I felt tears prickling in my eyes. I wouldn't provide him with the gratification of seeing me wither. I also didn't want to look like a raccoon since I was sporting the mascara Ava had purchased me for my birthday. "Is there anything else I ought to know?" I asked, attempting to keep a calm voice. "Like, does he have any interests outside of ruining teenage girls' lives?"

Dad's demeanor softened a little, but his words remained stern. "Vincenzo focused especially on your background. One cannot negotiate an all-girls school."

I laughed, but it sounded like a choked hiccup. "So you sent me to St. Catherine's to prepare for this arranged marriage? Do you expect me to meet a guy before my wedding day? Do you think I'll turn into a wild, boy-crazy lunatic?"

"Dad's reaction was just okay, not great. The silence between us felt heavy and uncomfortable. I even half-expected tumbleweeds to come rolling through the room.

"At least for now, that's it," he said quietly, dismissing me with a wave of his hand as if I were some kind of servant. Smooth, Dad. Real smooth.

As I stood up, my legs felt like jelly. Just as I was about to grab the door handle, Dad's words stopped me in my tracks.

"Kylie," he continued, his voice faint now. "Though it's challenging, I know this is for the best. You'll grasp it someday."

I gave no thought to answering. I was supposed to say, "Thanks for wrecking my life, Dad. You are the greatest!" Rather, I booked it out of nowhere, as my butt seemed to be ablaze.

I raced for my room as soon as I left the study. Already tears were flowing, and I almost pushed poor Ava down the corridor.

kylie? Looking troubled, she asked, "What's wrong?"

I was mute. I just shook my head and pushed past her, staggered into my bedroom, and then slammed the door behind me. I dropped onto my bed and covered my face with a pillow to stifle my tears. Right now, this has to be a nightmare. I would wake up right now and chuckle over this bizarre dream.

Still, the minutes passed and I woke up nowhere. Actually, this was genuine. Right then, this was my life.

Her quiet knock on the door hardly registered through my pity party. "Kylie?" Ava spoke quietly. "Is there anything I could do? I had ice cream with me."

I answered, "Nothing," but a second later I felt the bed dip as Ava sat next to me. My favorite, the aroma of chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream, permeated everything.

Ava remarked, caressing my back, "Whatever it is, it can't be that bad. Did you not pass a test? Get caught leaving without permission? Oh goodness, what are you expecting?"

That last one had me sit up and snort despite myself. "No, I have not become pregnant. God, Ava?"

Grinning, she handed me the pint of ice cream and a spoon. "That is a relief, then. What then best represents a human sprinkler system in your work?"

Before I spoke, I scooped a large dollop of ice cream and let the chilly sweetness melt on my tongue. "Dad has set up my marriage. Regarding Lysander Vincenzo."

Ava's spoon dropped to the floor. "Holy sh*t," she exhaled. I apologize, Kylie. That's... that's medieval."

"Tell me about it," I responded, scooping fresh vigor into the ice cream. "I sense myself in some bad YA novel."

"Maybe if you talk to him again, he might reconsider," Ava said. We both knew that was unlikely.

I gave my head a shake. "You know, Dad. That's it once he decides upon it. He is more tenacious than a donkey carrying resentment."

Ava bit her lip, then hesitated. "But what about Kylie?"

"It's done, Ava," I said, cutting her off like a damp blanket covering me with despair. "Dad and Lysander's father closed the bargain already. Presumably, spit in their hands and everything."

We passed the ice cream back and forth silently for a little while. At last, Ava raised her voice.

"Do you want to search him out? Lysander, specifically. See what sort of ogre you are divorcing?"

Part of me wanted to say no, to act as though this wasn't happening for just a bit more. But then curiosity prevailed. I nodded, and then Ava got my laptop from my desk.

I inhaled while we waited for the search results to load. The kind of man I was under pressure to marry? I imagined some balding, pot-bellied creeps with unibrows and back hair.

Ava's gasp indicated I was off target. Her eyes wide, "Holy mother of hotness," she said. "She is... he is..."

"AGreek god?" I offered and stooped to view the screen. And... fantastic, okay. Clearly, Lysander Vincenzo did not fit me. For one thing, he was huge — all broad shoulders and muscular strength. Dark hair; chiseled jaw; piercing eyes. I would most likely walk into a lamppost if I came upon him on the street.

Ava replied, glancing through, "Look at all these pictures. He is never with the same girl twice."

I yanked. "They would be welcome to him. I'm not interested in being some playboy arm candy; I don't care how hot he is."

"Girls are almost launching themselves at him!" Ava yelled and gestured at remarks on several social media sites. "Lysander, get married to me!" Geez, desperate much? Have my babies!"

I let my eyes roll back. "A good face doesn't alter the underlying nature. He might be a real jerk, for all we know."

The next hour, we searched Lysander Vincenzo for all we could find. My heart fell further with every fresh bit of knowledge. He was hazardous, not only some wealthy playboy. The sort of man people murmured about, terrified.

I replied suddenly, closing the laptop, "I need some air. Let us walk to the kitchen. Perhaps Chaol's narrative will help us divert ourselves. Alternatively, you know, show me how to vanish and start again in Bora Bora."

Ava nodded, trailing me out of the room. Chaol, our most reliable soldier, was sharpening a knife at the counter as we walked into the kitchen. Apparently, that's what passes for a typical evening pastime in this house.

"Evening, ladies," he said, nodding at us. "Miss Kylie, you seem somewhat peaky. Everything fine?"

I looked at Ava, then answered. "Oh, your Tuesday is quite normal. Dad planned my marriage to a man who seemed to have breakfast by eating nails. Not really important."

Chaol's palm stopped on the knife. "Ah," he remarked, his voice precisely neutral. "Lysander Vincenzo, I guess?"

"The one and only," I said. "What about him? Can you tell me? And please do not sugarcoat it. I told enough lies today. One day."

Chaol started honing the knife, the repetitive sound filling the kitchen. "Lysander was made into what he is by the time he was eleven," he stated casually as if talking about the weather rather than the terrible upbringing of my future spouse.

Ava gasped right next to me. "He's ruthless," she said in a whisper.

Chaol nodded. "Being delicate won't help you thrive in New York. Out there is a forest; Lysander? His ranking as a predator is the highest."

I inhaled strongly. "What precisely happened? Did he, like, thwart a gang of wicked squirrels in Central Park or something?"

Chaol's eyes locked with mine, and for a second, I saw a flutter of emotion — perhaps pity — before his expression smoothed out. "I am not privy to all the particulars. New York presents a distinct reality. Let us add that nevertheless, Lysander discovered early on that it was kill or be killed. In general terms."

A cold slid down my spine. "And who is going to guard me against him?" I asked, disgusted by the smallness of my voice. "You yourself? Father? The Avengers?"

Chaol laid down the knife, his face solemn. "I wish I knew a better response for you, Miss Kylie. But in that world, you either die or learn to defend yourself. Though that's the way it is, it's not fair."

That evening, as I lay in bed, sleep escaping me, Chaol's comments kept returning to me. "Learn to defend yourself; otherwise, you die." Counting the glow-in-the-dark stars I had set up there when I was twelve, I gazed up at the ceiling. Now, they appeared juvenile, a throwback to a life I was losing.

I had always understood that the environment my family lived in was strange and hazardous in ways most people could not imagine. But my father's fame and influence had shielded me from the worst of it. My main concerns had been either whether Jake from my art class liked me back or whether my math test went perfectly.

I was being tossed to the wolves right now. More precisely, to one particular wolf called Lysander Vincenzo. A wolf with a lethal smile and a reputation that made formerly hardened criminals wet their feet.