Page 10 of Broken Lies
Chapter Three
RILEY
I’m living in a nightmare.
If it wasn’t bad enough that my uncle wants to marry me off to some middle-aged mob boss, the fact that my brother is also in on the arrangement makes me sick to my stomach.
I expected such behavior from Rion, but Oscar? He was meant to have my back.
Instead, he’s stabbed a massive fucking knife in it.
For some territory.
Call me naïve, but I thought we had moved past the point of arranged marriages as a way of forming alliances.
Apparently, I was wrong.
I pace back and forth across my bedroom for what feels like the tenth time, my footsteps loud against the hardwood floor.
The walls feel like they're closing in, as if the house itself is suffocating me.
Everything in here, from the silk curtains to the antique mirror above my dresser, screams money and control, none of which belongs to me.
Technically, everything in this room now belongs to my uncle, but that’s an issue for another day. Right now, my focus is on the fact that he wants to marry me off to Sean O’Keefe.
Honestly, it sounds more like a death sentence than a marriage.
Worse!
Death is immediate; everything ends. With marriage? Fuck.
God knows how long O’Keefe would keep me around just to torture me and force me to obey his every whim, to attend to his every need.
And if I were to marry the guy, any contact with him would most definitely have to be forced.
I shudder just at the mere thought of his name, let alone having him near me.
Nope!
Yet, Oscar had the audacity to say it like it was a done deal, like I didn’t have a say.
I’ve spent the last three years clawing my way out of this life and toward one of my own through college and internships, but instead of a cap and gown waiting for me at the end, there’s a veil and a white dress with golden shackles and the prospect of a life of misery and pain.
And the worst part is I was an even better deal because I’ve never had sex.
I’m being sold as livestock, as a breeder, one that has never been mounted, so it gets higher bids, as if what is between my legs is the most valuable asset I have.
Well, these men can all go to hell because I refuse to be whittled down to nothing more than a walking pussy.
I need to get the hell out of this house and away from Rion and Oscar before they can start parading me around like a sacrificial lamb. Before Sean O’Keefe decides to show up at my door with a ring and cuffs to match.
I kick the edge of my bed frame hard enough it shifts.
Pain shoots through my foot, but I welcome it. At least it’s something I can feel, something I can control.
I glance at the clock on my nightstand.
It’s barely even eight P.M. If I’m going to make a move to leave tonight, then I’ve got to wait a few more hours.
