“Ditto. Gotta make sure my bitches are alright!” Paulo cackles. Looking from the corner of my eye, I catch the glare from Heather. She really is not a fan of Paulo at all. I can’t tell if it’s jealousy or if because he’s gay. Heather and I became friends through our parents, both sharing very similar viewpoints, including their ultra-conservativeness. I remember as a teen how my mother was actually the one to speak to me about staying away from ‘certain individuals’ as she called them. I rolled my eyes back then the same way I do now. Never will I outcast people based on their sexual preferences.
Heather and Sky walk away, and I watch as they get a taxi. Honestly, this trip might be a hell of a lot better with Heather gone. I came here to relax, and instead, I’ve spent almost the entire thing trying to repair my friendship with her. At this point, I don’t think there’s any salvaging it. It’s sad, but sometimes this happens. People grow apart over the years and just don’t have the same relationship that they once had. I keep thinking I’m selfish to be feeling this way, but I know that I’m not.
Out of any country I’ve ever visited, Brazil has to be one of the most beautiful. It’s in the mid-eighties with what feels like little humidity. With every day we’ve been here in Rio, it’s been close to the same temperature. There’s a slight wind gust that keeps you from getting too overheated, and the sun beams down from above, giving us all glowing tans. The beach is beautiful at sunset, when the orange color fades over the night sky and reflects on the vibrant blue color of the water. The city is even as colorful as the rest of the area. Homes aren’t just earthy colors like they are back home in Texas but are painted in pink, green, yellow and blue. It’s refreshing to see so much life in one place, and I know that I chose just the right setting for some time away.
“C’mon, let’s go to the bar!” Paulo grabs my hand and takes me down the street. I have this gut feeling that the bar he’s taking me to is actually where his boy toy works, and the moment we sit down on barstools, I know I’m correct in thinking that. A man who looks like he’s in his mid-thirties comes walking over with a shit eating grin on his face.
Paulo tells him something that I don’t understand, and the man walks away for a moment, grabs a shaker, and pours a multitude of liquors into it. After a minute, he’s coming back to us with two drinks in glasses. “So, would you be annoyed with me if I stay with Gabriel tonight? Honestly, I may stay with him for as many nights as I can. You know what I’m saying.” Paulo’s question comes out of nowhere, but just from looking at this guy . . . I can’t blame him. He’s the epitome of physical perfection, looking like he’s a chiseled statue that somehow brought to life.
“No, I totally get it,” I answer as any friend would, even though I’m nervous beyond belief. Rio is a great city, but I’ve heard about what happens to American women who are here by themselves. If anyone knows I’m here alone, or sees me alone, I’ll instantly become a target.
Paulo smirks, tossing his head back and does a little shimmy, showing me how excited he is. “You are the best friend a man could ask for, cutie patootie!”
I raise a brow, speaking firmly. “If you ever call me that again I will take this straw and shove it so forcefully into your eyeball that it hits your brain matter and you drop dead.”
“Such a sick bitch, I love it.” He wiggles an eyebrow at me, and I have to chuckle a little. Yes, this is better without Heather.
Paulo and I sit at the bar for what feels like a couple hours, drinking everything that comes our way and going dancing on the floor a few feet back. With every hour that passes, the crowd grows larger.
I start flirting with this cute British man. He looks Eastern Indian, and dammit if he isn’t the hottest man in the room. He keeps offering to buy me a drink, one after another, and I finally cave in and accept. He brings me back a shot of tequila from the smell of it ,and I throw it back. “Woo!” I giggle afterwards, sliding my arms around his.
Right now, I’m not Presley Richards, heiress to Richards Energy. I’m just a young woman on a life changing trip to Rio.
Only, when I feel faint and my legs go out from under me . . . I wonder what the hell is happening, but before I can ask, everything goes dark.
Chapter 2
Stefan
For the last two days I’ve been trying to come up with a way to get out of this dinner. It’s no rival, business executive, or even a feast with my Romanian Queen; it is much worse. I’d rather be attending dinner with any of these, or all of them at once. Instead, I’m headed to my parents’ estate in Paraty, Brazil. It’s about four hours away from where I live in Rio De Janeiro.
Family dinners normally don’t frustrate me, or even cause me the least bit of stress. However, I’m not a fool. I know exactly what this dinner is going to be; another opportunity for my father to ambush me with potential brides. He’ll probably have an entire binder filled with names, photographs, and fun facts. Fuck, I even expect it that he’ll already know if the girls are virgins or not. Like it’s the same as choosing a vacation rental or a car.
You see, I’m not just any man. If I were, things would be much simpler for me. I could pick and choose to marry whomever I want or be the world’s longest reigning bachelor. Personally, I’m not the settling down type. I never have been, but it’s been made clear to me that I don’t have a choice in the matter. If I don’t settle down and marry a good Romanian girl, I won’t be able to continue our family lineage, and our Clan could perish. That is simply not acceptable.
For over a year I have been told what I must do to for our family, that one day soon my father would have a discussion with me about a suitable bride if I did not choose one for myself. I often wonder when that timestamp will expire, but I will roll the dice every day of my life and hope I still have freedom. Even if he tries to outsmart me, I will find a way to get back at him. My father and I are far too much alike, each thinking a few steps ahead. It’s the reason why we’re so successful when it comes to our businesses.
I turn down the jungle lined driveway that leads back to my parent’s estate, slowing down as I approach the gate. Rolling down my window, I press the little black button and stare into the screen, waiting for a face to pop up.
“Welcome home, Stefan!” My mother’s voice shocks me. Usually, one of my father’s guards answers the telecom and passes me through, but not today. A loud beep comes through the small machine, and the gates open, allowing me to come inside. I press on the gas lightly, watching the gates close in my rearview mirror.
It's too late to go back now, I think to myself.
A couple minutes later, and I finally arrive at their home. It is a beautifully perfect white with chestnut colored roof tiles. The windows are large and massive, allowing the breeze to flow through the entire home when the weather allows.
Before I even have the time to park my car, my petite mother comes rushing out of the front door. It’s still an oddity seeing a tiny Romanian woman this deep in Brazil, but she has always loved living here, even if she can’t relate to many people. She’s been studying Portuguese for the last several years, in the hopes that, by speaking the tongue, she will gain more friends. The sad reality is, most of her friends are the women in the Clan families. Although there are quite a few, they’re spread apart. It’s a rarity that they can ever get together. In most cases, it’s for some sort of wedding or official meeting when everyone gathers.
“Stefan! Gah, you wait too long to come back and see your dear mother!” she hollers at me outside the car. I take in a deep breath and plaster on a fake smile before opening the door.
“Hi, Ma.” I wrap my arms around her in a tight hug, already knowing she’s about two seconds away from crying. She’s a creature of habit, making a slight hiccupping sound before she does. Sure enough, as I pull away from her, I’m proven right.
I wipe the tears from her cheeks, “Gee, you need to stop with this. I live four hours away tops. It’s not like I’m back in Romania and you’re stuck here.”
�
��No! Don’t you ever say things like that!” She whips her hand back and smacks my arm at the fullest force. A sting radiates over my shoulder and a little bit below my elbow. Damn, she still has it. She takes her hand and rubs it over where she’s just hit me, “Oh goodness, I’m sorry. I just worry about being so far from you. Do you remember that we used to be the best friends? There was once a time where you would be always alongside me, ready to go on whatever adventure I had planned for the day.”
My father told me once that he only gave her a child after they moved here because she was so lonely. I wasn’t something that was wanted, well, other than by her. I’m simply a necessity to continue our lineage and something that was created to help keep my mother sane.
And maybe that is my problem, the fact that even I was forced on someone, unwanted, and sometimes I can still feel it. I don’t want anything or anyone else in this life to be forced on someone, especially me.
“Yes, I remember. We had such good times back then,” I reply, careful to not hurt her feelings in any way. “Say, is dinner ready? I don’t know about you, but I am starved.”
Her smile grows to the size of Romania as she grabs my hand and rushes me inside. “I tried making jerk chicken. I saw it on the network with the food, figured what the heck. I have this big kitchen, and so I will try it.” We both walk from the foyer into the kitchen, and I notice that they’ve had some recent renovation work done. The white walls have some sort of black beam spreading across them.
“Sounds delicious,” I mutter, hoping that by watching some food shows it’s helped her ability to cook. She tries as hard as she can, but sometimes she just doesn’t get it to the point where it needs to be.
“Stefan, it’s nice to see you.” My father comes out of his study and approaches us. The strong scent of brandy comes along with him, and I can’t help but think what has been so strenuous that he’s already began drinking for the day.
I bite my tongue and hold back on what I really want to say. “You too,” I lie through my teeth.
“It’s a good thing you’re here. You and I have much to discuss. I’ll be back in just a moment.” My father disappears back into his study while my mother and I chat about a few miniscule things to pass the time. A couple minutes later, he’s back with a tablet and hands it to me.
“I want you to go through these photographs.”
I keep back my laugh, already calling out what he’d do to me on my drive in. I swipe left and continue going, seeing countless photographs of beautiful women. I recognize one, though; Isabella. Her father isn’t a Clan member but is the accountant for the Baptiste Clan. It’s rumored that she’s a virgin girl, but I know more than that. I know about this girl’s secrets, and more importantly, I know that if I tell my father I’m interested in her . . . I can get out of it.
“She’s alright, but don’t I have more time?” I question him, awaiting his answer.
“Not much; a few weeks, at best. I wanted to start the search so I could figure out who actually is a good fit to be the next Dalca.”
I shake my head, snickering. I’m never going to be the type who accepts help from another when it comes to women. I’ll find my own, my way or the highway. “I can’t believe you aren’t giving me the allotted time that you promised. I had a feeling my year wasn’t quite up, but here you are, insisting that I make a decision sooner rather than later.”
“Yes, because it will happen now. You will make a decision before the night is over.”
I don’t bother refraining my laughter at this moment. “I will only do what I want to do. I am not a child, and you won’t force me to make a decision.”
“Yes, I damn well will!” He roars at me, slapping me firmly across the face. I shut my eyes for a moment before I unleash hell on him.
“I am not the little boy who was once afraid of you. It’s been quite a long time since I was afraid, and let me be clear, I will do what I want to do, when I want to do it. I do not need to be the leader of this Clan. For all I care you can die, and Ion can appoint me next in line. One way or another, it’ll happen.”
“I’ve already contacted Isabella’s brother and have given them a marriage proposal. Do not defy me, Stefan.”
“I guess you shouldn’t have been the one to make promises you can’t keep,” I hiss out. Turning around I head for the door and don’t bother to stop as I hear my mother crying behind me. She wants me to stay, to spend time with them, but even she should know that I have a limit, and my father has crossed it.
I get in my car, start it up, and head towards the end of the driveway, but just as I do, I receive a call. “Mr. Dalca, it has been done.”
The words I have been waiting days to hear have been said to me. It feels refreshing knowing that my life will be changing very soon, and it won’t have anything to do with what my father has done. The only person I can give credit to for this is myself.
Chapter 3
Presley
A heavy pounding pulsates in my head, so bad that I feel like I was hit with a sledgehammer. I wasn’t, though. Or at least, I don’t believe I was. The last thing I remember is dancing in that club with a really hot man. I mean, breathtakingly gorgeous, the kind of man who you think only exists in movies or Katy Perry music videos.
I bring my hands up to my face and slowly open my eyes. Much to my dismay, it’s dark here with only a tiny sliver of light coming in from under what I assume is a door. I turn around quickly and bump my head into something strong and sturdy. Searching my hands around me, I feel the coolness of metal bars . . . causing my heart to beat a mile a minute. I think I’m in some sort of cage.
Fear runs through my body. Going outside of the country is always dangerous, but I thought I had a good hold on it. Fuck, I wasn’t even alone! Paulo was in the same bar I was in, flirting away with that cutie he likes. I, on the other hand was flirting with that hot British man . . . the same man who gave me that shot of . . . oh my god. I have no idea what was in that drink. How stupid could I have been?!
I run my hands along the side, feeling the bars go for a few feet before I sense a curve. I continue following it until the metal curves again. If I have to guess, I’d say I’m in some sort of man-made cell. All of a sudden, I’m moving side to side, but my feet are planted in the same exact place they were before. I hear a rushing sound, not quite sure what it is until I look up to see a small, circular window. The sun shines brightly outside the window, and I see the faint body of a bird passing by.
With every moment I’m awake, I’m putting the pieces together. It’s no secret I’m in some sort of cage made for a human. Whatever I’m on is rocking back and forth, so I must be on a boat, and I smell saltiness . . . proving my last thought is correct.
Grabbing onto the bars, I sink down and pull my legs to my chest, trying to process what’s happened to me. I’ve suddenly become the leading heroine in some abduction movie, obviously. Hell, maybe I’m being punked. Maybe this is some harsh lesson being taught by my father on why I need to stop with my partying ways. I wouldn’t put it past him; he’s the type to pull something like this after all.
“Hello?!” I shout, thinking that someone might come to my rescue. Actually, after thinking it . . . I highly doubt that’s going to end up happening.
Much to my surprise, the door to my room comes screeching open. It feels like I’m living in a horror movie, waiting to see the henchmen on the other side. As the door opens, the light is nothing but blinding. I squint, attempting to make out the figure coming towards me. When my eyes register and I hear metal scraping against my cage, I really get a good look at this guy. He’s the guy! The hot one.
“Where in the fuck have you taken me?” I seethe out, my entire body overcome with outrage. I was afraid at first, but now, I just want to pummel this asshole into the ground.
“I will tell you this once, Presley. You can try to get answers out of us, but it won’t be good for you. For every question you ask, I will punch you in the face. I am giving you
the courtesy of a warning because you have such a beautiful face. It would be a shame to tarnish your perfectly good looks. You will bring my boss lots of money, girl. You will see.”
Money? How on Earth am I going to bring anyone money?
Shit. Now I get it.
“My father has been adamant on the fact he will never pay a ransom whenever it is presented. I’m afraid that you’re straight out of luck.” If he is even decently smart, he’ll understand that I’m giving him a way out. My dad won’t pay. I know he won’t because he has an entire crisis management team that’s advised him on what to do with matters like this. He’s told me to my face how he’d let me rot instead of allowing anything negative to happen with the company, and I believe him.
I hear the unmistakable click of a lock turning before the door to my cage comes open and he grabs my forearm. With a force, he tugs me along with him out of the room I’ve been in and down a narrow, well-lit hallway. We walk for a while until he slides a door open and I’m taken in yet another room. This one is different, though. It’s sterile looking, white, smells of alcohol and hand sanitizer. If I woke up in this room, I doubt that I’d even know I was on a boat, or at sea. Only the chemicals would fill my nostrils.
In the middle of the room is a chair with stirrups and straps. It reminds me of something you’d see in a mad scientist film. “You are cute to think this is some sort of ransom ploy. Surely, you aren’t that important,” Thomas says to me, or at least, I think that’s his name. He told me it last night, but, for all I know, he could be lying.
“Obviously, you don’t have any idea who I am. Do you?” I glare at this idiotic man because I’m worth millions. But just as the reality sets in that I’m not a ransom ploy, I wonder what any of this means. If they don’t plan on collecting a ransom . . . then what do they plan on doing with me?
Instead of a response, I’m throttled back into the wall, and a fist comes into contact with the right side of my cheek. The pulsating pain barrels through me once again; only, this time, I can hear my heart beating inside my head. I slide down to the floor, the pain becoming too overwhelming to bear. My butt hits the ground, and no later than few seconds am I being grabbed on the forearm yet again. Thomas walks me over to the chair in the middle of the room and tosses me on top of it. He goes to my right arm and straps me in and then my left. I start to kick with my legs when he grabs my throat and chokes me out. “I was told I couldn’t fuck you, that you’re too valuable, but you’re just begging for me to sink my cock in you to shut you up. Aren’t you?”
Defiant (The Clans Book 6) Page 2