Hera. Always with her fucking wisdom and ideas.
“She could be wrong.” Henrik took the decanter from his father and poured himself a drink. If they were going to have another conversation about the greatness of his father’s wife, he was going to need the strength only a potent drink could give him.
“She’s right that this marriage makes us stronger,” Jackson responded evenly. Henrik knew better than to think his father’s eyes would open wide enough to see Hera as anything other than the dutiful wife. She’s put up with his affairs, raised not one, but two of his bastards—the perfect wife in the eyes of Jackson Olympus. The fact he’s never given Henrik his last name is a tribute to the love he has for his wife. He swore long ago he would not tarnish the Olympus name by giving it to his bastard sons until they’d gone above and beyond to earn it.
Jackson was disloyal to her, and as punishment for being born, Henrik would be forced to jump through her hoops until he was deemed worthy enough to be counted.
“You think this girl, Megara, will be a joyful participant? From what I’m told, she’s spent the last several years studying and gearing up for something completely different than a life of wife and mother.”
“Megara is a good girl. She’ll do what her father commands.” Jackson’s tone suggested Henrik take a cue from the girl.
“Henrik, you were right.” Oliver saunters into the office, stopping dead when his gaze reaches Jackson.
“Well? What was he right about?” Jackson urges when Oliver remains frozen.
“The cousins,” Henrik said, putting his glass back on the bar. “They’re up to something.”
“You’ve been digging into Tristan and Marco?” Jackson demanded.
“What did you find out?” Henrik asked Oliver. After seeing Megara in such a deep conversation with her cousins at the car, he sent Oliver on a search. He would take no chances of her finding a way out of the arrangement. No matter if it was her fault, Hera would place the blame fully on Henrik’s doorstep.
“They’ve made no inquiries for investors, and they haven’t secured any spaces. Haven’t even look at any yet.”
“Sent out rumors of their intentions, but haven’t acted on them.” Henrik scratched his chin.
“They’ve only begun looking. It’s natural they haven’t gotten far. Especially after this mess with their sister,” Jackson explained.
Henrik sighed. “Or they’re giving the pretense of securing the restaurant spaces. They don’t want this marriage. They could be helping Megara run away.” He wouldn’t put it past her cousins to hide her away to keep the union from happening.
Jackson turned a fierce glare on Henrik. “This marriage has to happen. I don’t care how you achieve it, but that girl will be your wife.” His voice boomed.
Henrik moved his gaze to his father.
“She will be my wife,” Henrik vowed.
“See that it happens,” Jackson snapped, then marched from the room, taking the tension from the air with him.
Oliver blew out a long breath once the door slammed behind Jackson.
“I didn’t know he was in here. Sorry about that.” Oliver swung the chair at the desk around and sank into it.
“Until he’s gone, just assume he’s everywhere.” Henrik flexed his fingers. The sooner he got Megara under his thumb, the sooner his visit would end. His father would see the depths of his loyalty with his own eyes and would no longer be able to deny his worth.
“Have the car pulled up front. I want to take a quick shower.”
“Where are you going?” Oliver asked, walking with Henrik from the office.
“Taking my fiancé out for lunch.”
6
Megara’s bedroom door flew open as Celeste rushed inside.
“Henrik’s here!”
“What?” Megara finished pushing the back onto her earring.
Her longtime friend waved at the door. “Henrik. You know, the guy your father sold you to? He’s here.” Always with a flair for the dramatic, Celeste jerked her finger toward the hallway.
“Why is he here? Did you see him?” Megara closed the bedroom door.
“No, I didn’t see him. If I’d seen him, I would have probably just stood there like a crazy woman with her mouth hanging open,” Celeste ranted. The rumors of Henrik’s physical appeal weren’t exaggerated, Megara could agree on that point.
“You would not have.” Megara laughed. “He’s probably just here to talk with my father.” Picking up her bracelet from her vanity, she cast a glance through the mirror at the door. There were no plans for her and Henrik to meet before the wedding. He had to be there for something else.
“Maybe.” Celeste plopped down on the bed, keeping a watchful eye on Megara. “You’re phone’s buzzing. Don’t you hear that?”
Megara blinked. Her phone. Right.
Tonight. 8 p.m. The southern most dock. Tristan will meet you.
The text she’d been waiting for. Marco finally had the place and time she would make her escape.
“Something wrong?” Celeste asked.
Megara’s throat clenched. After this afternoon with her, Megara would never see Celeste again. They’d been friends since middle school, and now, she had to leave her behind. And the worst part, she couldn’t say goodbye. She had to keep everything as normal as possible or there could be speculation about her disappearance. She did not want to spend the rest of her life having to look over her shoulder. If anyone suspected anything, she’d be on the run forever.
“Uh…no.” Megara cleared her throat and placed the phone facedown on the vanity. “Let me just get my purse and we can head out.” She stepped into her closet to find her bag. “Do you want Elliott’s for lunch?”
“I’m more of a sandwich guy for lunch. How’s Medusa’s Grill?” A deep voice rattled Megara.
Clutching the purse to her chest, she stepped out of the closet. Henrik’s hulking form took up too much space. His presence sucked the air from the room. Celeste sat on the edge of the bed, nearly ready to slip off, her mouth agape and eyes wide.
So much for a warning.
“Henrik.” Megara managed to paste a smile on her lips. “I wasn’t expecting to see you until…well, I wasn’t expecting you.”
“Spur of the moment visit.” He grinned and inclined his head. “Are you planning a trip?” He motioned to the backpack she’d left out beside her dresser. It was already half packed with a few items she’d need, waiting for the message from her cousins.
“Uh…no.” She tore her gaze away from him, needing to clear her head and think straight. “I haven’t finished unpacking from a girl’s weekend Celeste and I took a few weeks ago.” She sent a silent plea for Celeste to back her up.
“Oh?” Henrik turned to Celeste. “Where’d you go?” he asked.
Celeste regained enough composure to answer in a steady voice. “Just a spa weekend in the city.”
Henrik eyed Celeste for a long beat.
Just a few more hours. Megara needed only a little more time before she could get to the docks and away from this place. Away from her father’s agenda. Away from powerful men using helpless people to gain even more power.
“Well…” Henrik clapped his hands, jolting Megara, “I was serious about Medusa’s Grill.”
“Oh, thanks, but Celeste and I were headed to Elliot’s.” Megara gripped her purse. If he would just leave the room, she could get her bearings. There was something dark in him. Even when he smiled, she could see the shadows chasing him.
“Celeste won’t mind. I’m sure she understands how important it is for us to get to know each other before the wedding,” he said.
Megara glanced at Celeste. Already, he was trying to dictate who she spent her time with. Would this be how the rest of her life would play out if she were to marry him? At least as it stood now, she had something resembling freedom. She could come and go at will. Her father didn’t stop her from anything. He even encouraged her schooling.
But it was
all for nothing. He’d given her to Henrik at the first scent of a powerful union.
She’d been a fool to think she’d ever have the ability to control her own life. To live her own dreams. An utter fool.
“Yeah. It’s a good idea, Megara. Have lunch with your fiancé.” Celeste picked up her purse from the foot of the bed and her light jacket. “We can get together tomorrow.”
Celeste hugged Megara. “He’s even hotter in person,” Celeste whispered with a soft giggle before releasing her. “Have fun.” She wiggled her fingers at Henrik and maneuvered around him to the door.
Henrik never broke his stare on Megara.
“Well, I guess I’m free for lunch,” Megara said. Just a few more hours.
“It would appear so.” Henrik’s white teeth shown with his wide grin, contrasting against his dark beard. Without another word, he turned on his heel and walked from the room. She was, no doubt, expected to follow like the obedient dog he would forever treat her as—if she wasn’t getting far away from him.
Just a few more hours…
* * *
“What sort of business are you in?” Megara asked. Sitting in the passenger seat of his town car as he drove them away from her father’s estate, she decided to play along with his game of let’s get to know each other.
Henrik laughed. “Imports and exports,” he said.
Megara turned toward the window to keep her eye-roll from his view. She may have been a woman drowning in a man’s empire, but she knew bullshit when she heard it. Imports probably meant drugs or weapons, and exports were more of the same.
“And you enjoy importing and exporting?” she asked, flicking a nonexistent piece of flint from her knee.
“Very much,” he answered with a lilt to his tone. “And do you enjoy…what you do?”
She turned to study his features. Schooled. Of course. Men like him didn’t have emotions, and if they were plagued by one, they were taught to hide them well.
“I do. I look forward to continuing.”
He clicked the turn signal to life and changed lanes, avoiding slow traffic up ahead.
“I already have a chef on staff, but I’m sure we can figure out something for you.” He winked, offering a grin. Was he trying to anger her?
She decided not to rise to the bait. His opinions didn’t matter. She’d be far away from him soon enough.
He made another turn, heading away from the city, and she glanced over at him. Same stoic expression. Apparently, he only had a moment of joy when he insulted her.
“Medusa’s Grill is in the center of the city,” she pointed out after several minutes passed and they were farther away.
“I know where it is,” he said, keeping his eyes on the road.
“Then why are you driving in the opposite direction?” She forced her tone to stay level.
“I thought a more intimate lunch was in order.” He dropped one hand from the steering wheel and rested it on his thigh.
Megara’s chest clenched at the sight of his gates coming into view. They were going to his estate. She pulled her phone from her purse. A message from Celeste.
What was with the bag?
Megara promised to talk to her later about it and put the phone back in her purse. Would Celeste notice the bag missing once Megara was safely away? She couldn’t risk it now. She’d have to leave it. There could be no doubt she was dead after the accident…whatever that accident would be.
Henrik pulled through the gates and drove up the long drive to the front of the house. The darkness she felt in him accentuated the house. Dark brick and even darker shades were used on the shutters and drapery she could see. The doorway was arched and made of thick wood. Solid brass fixtures decorated the door.
She climbed out of the car once Henrik opened her door without taking the hand he offered and craned her neck to look up at the building.
“Very medieval, isn’t it?” she remarked, admiring the architecture. His hand pressed against the small of her back.
“I like it,” he said casually.
She glanced at him; his lips curled, a lock of his hair laying over one eye, the sun shining behind him. There was a boyish charm there. Behind the shadows, a light danced.
“It definitely fits you,” she said quietly, taken back by the sincerity in his voice.
He linked his hand with hers and tugged her toward the entrance. Tampering down her initial reaction of pulling away, she enclosed her fingers around his warm hand. With a simple squeeze, he could break every bone in her hand, but there was a gentleness in the way he held her.
Henrik led her through the entranceway, an arched shelter to the front door of the house. Her breath whooshed from her chest. The decor reminded her of something out of a Mad Hatter book she’d read as a child. Deep reds swirled among blacks and dark grays, giving the entrance a deviant, yet calming sensation.
“Not what you expected?” Henrik asked, some amusement in his tone.
She transferred her gaze to him. “No, it’s not at all what I expected.” She paused when his fingers tightened slightly around hers. “It’s beautiful when I think it’s not supposed to be.” Heat rose to her cheeks. “Does that even make sense?”
He glanced around the open area, a smile tilting up his lips. “It does, actually.”
Henrik pulled her along to a wide, winding staircase. When he started to lead her up the steps, she yanked back.
“Where are we going?” she asked, checking over her shoulder. She could still sprint to the front door if needed. Maybe she’d beat him to it, but would she out run him once outside the house?
“Lunch,” he said with a casual grin, like everything happening between them was normal. Nothing about this arrangement was normal. She wasn’t supposed to be with him. She shouldn’t be alone with him in his house.
“Upstairs?” she asked as she took another step.
He didn’t answer her, merely tugged her hand to keep her moving. They didn’t stop at the second floor, or the third. By the time they reached the fourth floor, her lungs burned. Obviously, she needed to start a new exercise routine.
“Here we go.” He walked her to a closed door. The hallway was chilled; not just the air, but the atmosphere. There were no paintings along the walls, and the carpeting, although beautiful in its own right, brought a sense of dread. This wasn’t a playful area of the house. It felt forgotten. Like it was where he put things he didn’t want to deal with.
She pulled out of his grasp and looked back toward the staircase as he retrieved a key from his pocket and unlocked the door. She’d never make it to the front door without him catching up to her.
Pressing herself against the wall, she took a small step toward the stairs.
“Don’t,” Henrik’s steal voice warned.
The lightness of downstairs was gone. He pushed the door open and turned back to her, his dark stare fixated on her.
She swallowed. She shouldn’t have come here with him. She shouldn’t have left her house with him. She shouldn’t have allowed her father to get her involved with Henrik Hercules.
“I’m…” She searched for a good reason to flee. An appointment. An illness. There had to be something she could say that would get her out of the house without insulting her host.
Henrik stood to the side of the doorway. “Get inside, Megara.”
Her mouth dried.
“Um…” She glanced into the room. A table with a white cloth draped over it was set with a place setting. A serving platter sat in the center.
One place setting.
“Learn this quickly, I don’t like repeating myself.” He motioned toward the door. “Get inside, Megara.”
She wet her lips. “I’m not feeling very well.” She touched her forehead. “I think I’d like to go home.”
Henrik dropped his hand to his side, heaving a heavy sigh as though he were disappointed in her. With one step, he closed the gap between them and tilted her head back with his knuckles against her chin to inspe
ct her face.
“You are home, Megara.” With lightning speed, his hand snaked behind her, grasping her neck. She had only a moment to cry out before she was shoved into the room.
“You’re hurting me!” She swung her arm behind her, trying to get him to let up the pressure on her neck, but like a wayward child, he led her to the table. Jerking the chair out, he maneuvered her to sit, still keeping his firm grasp on her.
“This is your room for the time being. Once the wedding is done, you’ll be allowed to move downstairs to your own suite.” He let go of her neck and stood before her. She blinked, unsure which thought, which fear, to grab onto as they all swirled before her.
She had to meet Marco and Tristan.
“No.” She tried to push up from the chair, but his large hand pressed her back down into it. “Stop it.” She smacked his arm.
He laughed.
“You’re crazed,” she hissed. “I will not stay here.” She pushed against him again, and only because he stepped back did she succeed in getting up. With the thought of getting away from him, she sprinted for the door.
He was too fast. Too strong.
His arm wrapped around her middle and snatched her up from the doorway. He hauled her back into the room, kicking the door closed once inside.
“Don’t make this worse for yourself,” he warned, putting her on her feet.
“You can’t keep me here!” she yelled at him with all her fury. She may have been a woman with little power, but she was still Christian Creon’s daughter.
“I can.” He folded his arms over his chest. “And I will.”
A wall made of steel would be easier to move than Henrik. Panic fueled her heart into a steady gallop. She had to meet her cousins. She needed to escape.
“My father—”
“Your father will be relieved I’ve helped save you from your own foolishness,” he boasted with a sturdy gaze. “Running away from your fiancé? From your family duty? You would ruin him with your childish behavior.” His voice deepened as he stepped toward her.
He knew.
Her chest tightened at facing her own weakness.
Finding His Strength: The Dirty Heroes Collection Page 4