It sounds risky, and it is. Any one of those men could have gone to my father, telling him of my plans, but they didn’t.
My father breeds loyalty from fear. I mean, the man would kill me, his only son, if he needed to.
That’s not the loyalty I want.
I am feared, but not by my men. The men I hunt fear me. The dark prince. The man who hides in the shadows waiting for the right time to jump out and murder you with his hands.
It’s more of a legend than truth.
I don’t like guns. I think death by bullet is much too quick for my enemies. So oftentimes I slip into my enemy's territory undetected, using a knife, sword, or sometimes my bare hands.
When I am caught, I don’t go down without a fight.
No, they fear me because I do not fear death. A man who does not consider their own mortality is dangerous because they have nothing to lose.
“Tonight, we are free. Tomorrow is the annual fundraiser,” Kenji says.
“You know I never go to those,” I tell him.
He smiles. “Oh, I think you’ll want to go to this one.”
“Why is that?”
His smirk turns evil. “Cliona Murphy is on the block. Her father has been advertising it like his newest watch is up for sale. I figured you wouldn’t want to miss a chance to stir shit with them.”
I consider his words. “Is my father going?”
He scoffs, “He hasn’t gone to one since he was looking for a wife for himself.”
He’s not wrong. When I was ten, my father attended a fundraiser and came out with an eighteen-year-old Russian girl. She doesn’t speak English, but he doesn’t need her to. He prefers it that way. All she is used for is his depraved tastes in the bedroom. Why the Russians let her go with him is a mystery to me. We didn’t even get any political gain out of it.
“Good. Dust off your suit, Kenji, my friend. Looks like we’re going to a party tomorrow. Maybe I’ll even give little Cliona a taste of the dark side.”
He shakes his head, laughing. “She won’t know what hit her.”
“Cliona,your father wants you for a moment downstairs,” Miss Kelly says from my door.
“Ugh, I cannot believe they are making me adhere to these archaic laws,” I grumble as I stand.
After my last plea to miss tonight's dinner, I was praying they would forget I exist. I knew better, though. Father expects obedience, meaning he expects me to marry whichever suitor he deems fit. I can only hope he chooses a kind one.
I laugh to myself. What man in this business is kind?
“You better get going. Archaic or not, your husband awaits.” She shoos me out of the room.
“You’re the worst housekeeper ever!” I yell in jest.
“Yet you still love me,” she calls back.
I do. I’m going to miss her the most when I leave.
If it were up to me, I would be heading off to college, but after tonight, who knows. Father says depending on the man, he may still let me pursue school. I think he’s trying to give me hope so I will go along with it, though. I grew up in this business. I know that it’s a pipe dream.
Rushing down the stairs to meet what I am sure is another lecture about pairing with an acceptable male. I don’t pay attention to where I am going.
That must be why I slam headfirst into a giant male.
“Ow. What the hell.”
