158

ALAYNA

In the last hour, we answered the press’s questions and interviews. We are live online, hosted by the Gardenia Event Hall. We spoke about our wedding date, introduced our families and friends to the people, and how grateful we were for their attendance and acceptance. Mostly, acceptance. I’m not a woman from any of the prominent families of Greece—but a chef with a compassionate mother and twelve siblings. We made sure they didn’t miss anything else about my family. However, Brandon is also right. They’ve asked me about my restaurant and about my plans as the wife of Grethe and Elga Enterprises’ chairman. It’s nerve-racking. I didn’t expect they would ask me on the spot about it. The engagement party turns out to be a press con too.

The next hour, Brandon introduces me to his family. We sit now at a huge round table with our closest relatives, where we are now facing none other than Petros Katrakis. Brandon’s grandfather. He’s late, but he still came. It’s like answering another batch of the press’s questions again. It’s not even the wedding yet. My mother is answering the other questions for me.

Petros Katrakis is already in his late seventies, but his hair has barely any silver strands. He looks young for his age. However, he is intimidating as hell. I can’t tell if he likes me or not.

“But before you became a restaurant owner because of my grandson, Oliver, you worked as Brandon’s chef, right? I heard so much about you,” he says as he slices his steak.

“That’s right, sir,” I mumble.

“But it’s because of you, my boy broke down his walls,” he adds. “I wonder what happened. Do potions on food exist in America?” He laughs at his own joke. “I’m sorry, dear. It’s an amusing notion.”

I clench my fist. All right. Maybe he doesn’t like me. Everyone at our table is silent.

“Grand,” Brandon whispers. “Please. Her family is here.”

My fiancé must’ve felt the tension.

I shut my eyes briefly, and when I open them, I meet Chris’s gaze, looking at me with concern. I’m still glad he made it here.

“It’s the twenty-first century, Mr. Katrakis.” Mom laughs derisively. “But even in your time, potions don’t exist. But if they do, your grandson might’ve used it on my daughter.”

“Did he, ma’am? My boy is an heir. He doesn’t need a potion to make a woman fall head over heels. Brandon is a very wealthy and handsome man.”

Mom’s eyes widen in shock.

I have already decided that this is going to be a disaster. I hold Brandon’s hand under the linen. His grip tightens around mine.

Brandon clears his throat. “Grandfather, Mrs. Hart. I love her, and she loves me. That’s only what matters. Isn’t that right, love?” He shifts his gaze to me.

“Please, mom. Yes, I do. I love him,” I say while looking at everyone’s faces. Casey, Cassius, Oliver, his fiancée, some of Brandon’s cousins—to my mother and my siblings.

“There are no potions, only talent,” Brandon defends.

“Alayna is an exceptional chef, and her restaurant in Seattle is very successful,” Oliver says to support his cousin’s statement. “She’s a better cook than me, and her food is even better than the food in this place.”

“Penelope can cook too, right?” Petros inserts. “She used to bring me delicious desserts. Oh, where is her sister? I heard she was coming.” He scans the place. “I am waiting for her. Ah—there she is!”

I wondered who Penelope was, but she turned out to be Pauline’s sister. I suddenly see her approaching from the entrance, wearing a blue nightgown and with her is a very tall Greek man in a designer suit.

I grit my teeth. My heart begins to pound abnormally against my ribcage. This is why I don’t like her to be here, but Brandon invited her anyway. I know he’s open to me about everything now, but I wonder when he’d ever get rid of her.

Apparently, the air has already abandoned my lungs. I spring up. I need to breathe. “Excuse me.”

Everyone’s attention shifts in my direction.

“Alayna, what is it?” Mom asks, looking up at me.

“I’m going to the restroom.”

“I’ll go with you.” Brandon and Chris stand up simultaneously, adding more shock on everybody’s faces.

Brandon tenses up and stares sharply at Chris’s face.

“No, I can go there myself, thank you.”

Chris sits first and averts his eyes. He’s always been thoughtful about everything, and I’m sure he’s just concerned.

I lean up to Brandon’s face and kiss his cheek. “I’ll be quick. Stay here with your grandfather. He doesn’t seem to like me.”

“Alayna, it’s not like that. Please, let me go with you.”

“Stay here. I need to pee. I had enough champagne.”

He nods and kisses me back. He lets my head out, but I know he’s watching me. I walk toward the restroom and sigh as I drain everything I drank out of my system. I also need to freshen up, so I’ll wash my face. However, deep inside, I feel the need to cry it all out—the tension and the jealousy. His grandfather obviously doesn’t like me.

I hear the door of the restroom close, and footsteps thuds fill the room. Maybe I shouldn’t cry after all. I’m the bride here, and this is my night. The guest might misunderstand.

I gather myself together and make sure my unwanted emotions don’t appear on my face, so I practice smiling. Again, I try showing my teeth. I should seem happy because I am. It’s probably time I face Pauline too.

Fear engulfs me as I step out of the cubicle and open the door. Shivers run down my spine as I stumble into my demon’s familiar broad build and dangerously handsome face.

“D-Drake…” I stammer. “What are you doing here?” My knees turn frail, and my skin becomes ultra-sensitive.

He is leaning against the wall, with his hands in his pocket and his feet crossed. He cocks his head and smirks at me.

“How did you… How…” I study him, and he’s wearing the same as the hall attendants—a white shirt, black vest, bow ties, black trousers, and an apron around his waist.

He disguised himself and mixed himself into the crowd. My throat dries up.

“It’s not that hard, Laynie. You see, I witnessed how you chose someone else over me. You’ve completely forgotten our deal.”

“We don’t have a fucking deal! Get away from me, Drake! My fiancée and his family are outside.”

“I’m very well aware,” he says, his voice still calm.

I push him out of the way and march toward the door, but he pulls me back and spins me around.

“No one can ever take you away from me, Laynie.”

“Hey!—Hmmm!” He covers my mouth and pushes me to the wall, his chest pressing against mine. I suddenly feel dizzy.

“Don’t shout. You don’t know the consequences.”

I struggle. “Hmmph!”

“If you shout now, everyone in that event hall shall die.”

He takes his hand off my mouth.

“What do you mean?”

“I have men around the area. I can just ask them to shoot anyone, or maybe your fiancée if you ever try to defy me. They will never know who did it. A terrorist attack. Maybe? It fits the game, right? It’ll be all because you forgot how to behave.”

My chest explodes and the tears I have been holding finally burst out. “What do you want, Drake? Please don’t hurt anyone.”

“That’s more like it. I know you’re easy to tame. Still so easy.” He takes off a lock of hair blocking my face. “I want you to come with me, of course, and you will not make a scene. I mean everything I said.”

I shake my head. “No. I don’t want to. I hate you.”

He runs his finger over my shoulder. “No, you missed me. Don’t you miss what we used to do?” Then he traces my cheek with the back of his hand.

I shut my eyes. He always does this whenever he wants me to calm down, and my body remembers him.

“That’s it. That’s it, sweetheart.”

“Don’t hurt anyone, please,” I beg.

“Shh… No, of course not. I just want you to come with me and finish what we have started.”

I whimper. “No. Please. Don’t do this to me, Drake. I can’t… Please.”

“Don’t you remember?”

I shake my head.

“Then I’ll remind you of it. Now, I want you to take off your clothes and change into this.” He picks up some pieces of clothes folded from the sink. It turns out to be another attendant uniform.

“Why?”

“You look too bulky in that dress. It looks beautiful on you, but we don’t want any attention.”

He hands me the clothes, and I stare at them.

Maybe he’s just bluffing. Perhaps I can get away and run.

No, no. Drake is manipulative. But he never lied. So I know he could hurt Brandon, his family, or mine… He can do it. He hurt me too.

I sob. “Where are we going?”

“Somewhere far. Far from here. Laynie.” He cups my face. “It’s time you knew the truth about your dad. Just come with me, and I’ll tell you everything. I’ll help you, and I promise to be good,” he whispers.

He has said these words to me before, too—that he would be good.

But he still abused me.

“You’ll get used to me again. Come with me. Not him. I still love you, Alayna, and I’ve waited for his moment every day.” He opens his eyes again, and I see the danger. Then he roughly yanks the back of my hair.

“Ah!”

He clenches his jaw. “Or I’ll kill anyone who gets in my way. Anyone. Your choice.”

“Don’t. I’ll go with you.”

“Good. Now, put this on. We’re leaving out of here.”

“Can you at least tell me where?”

“To your new home?” He shrugs. “I can’t tell you until you promise you’ll behave.”

“I promise.” I swallow dryly. I need to know because I might be able to do something about it. Perhaps I can lead Brandon there later, or I can try to get away from him now…

“You’re lying.”

Or maybe I can’t. “No, please. I will be good.”

“I see.” He crosses his arms. “I can only tell you one thing. Do you remember where I was born? I wasn’t always from Lawrence.”

I nod. “Your mother’s hometown… wait.” I scowl. “Wichita?”

“Bingo.”

“You’re taking me back to Kansas?” my voice rises. Before, he didn’t tell me exactly where in Brazil he was. It was where he went when he had his eye surgery.

“Yes, and we’re leaving tonight.”