Chapter 2 The Ultimatum
KIER
“Welcome back, fam! Live and loud from the city’s hottest spot!” I tilted my phone toward the crowd, pulsing lights, bass shaking the floor. The chat exploded with heart emojis and comments drooling over me.
I leaned back in the VIP booth, black shirt half-buttoned, glass of champagne in hand. “You’re watching the Kier Blackwood channel, the life you can’t afford but love to watch,” I said with a smirk.
The comments poured in. Kier, you’re a god! Notice me! What’s tonight’s drink?
“Champagne,” I said, raising my glass. “The expensive kind not that store-bought nonsense.” Laughter erupted from the two models beside me. I kissed one of them long enough for the stream to lose its mind, then ended the live.
The next thing I knew, my alarm was screaming in my ear. My skull felt like it had been stomped on by an elephant. I hurled the clock at the wall. “Shut up!”
I rolled over and froze. The body beside me was clothed. And solid.
“I don’t like being groped, Kieran,” came a deep male voice.
I shot upright. “What the hell, Damon?” My driver slash bodyguard. On my bed.
“Your guests were escorted out, sir. On your father’s order.”
Before I could curse him out, the door opened. My father filled the doorway like bad news in a suit. “Get dressed. We need to talk.”
Five minutes later, I was half awake, staring across the table as he dropped a bombshell.
“You’re getting married to Genesis Caldwell. Tomorrow.”
I spat my juice. “You’re joking.”
His expression said otherwise. “No. You’ll marry her, or you lose everything, the money, the penthouse, the company.”
“What? You can’t just…”
“Oh, I can. You’re almost thirty, Kier. No discipline, no focus. You’ll marry her and give me an heir.”
“An heir?” I repeated, my voice cracking. “Dad, I don’t even want a dog!”
He ignored me, sliding a photo across the counter. A girl, maybe from years ago. Not familiar.
“She’s not a teenager,” he said before I could speak. “You knew her as a kid. Genesis Caldwell. You’ll remember her.”
I stared at the photo, something tugging at the edge of my mind, a ghost from another life.
“I’m not doing this,” I said quietly.
He stood, straightening his jacket. “Tomorrow, you will. And trust me, she’s not someone you’ll forget twice.”
The door shut behind him. I sat there, hangover forgotten, heart pounding like a drum.
Married. Tomorrow.
To a stranger I might already know.