PROLOGUE

My fingers traced the photo of my best friend I had on my table. She'd died four years ago in a car accident with her husband and today was her death anniversary. I should have already gone to the cemetery, but I couldn't, not when I had myself locked inside my room to avoid my father—someone who was ready to sell me off to his billionaire business partner, Sylus Jones.

"Harley!"

I whipped my head around at the sound of my name the second the door was forcefully kicked open. My father and five of his men stormed into the room, his ears bristling like a boiling kettle.  

"What do you think you're doing locking yourself in here? Do you think that will change anything?"  

"I told you, I won't marry him! You just don't throw a dress at my face and expect me to do whatever you want." 

"This is not a request, Harley!" he shouted at me. "You are marrying Sylus Jones, whether you like it or not!" 

"And I said, no. I won't do it," I challenged, forcing every ounce of rage down. It was unfair; everything he'd ever done to me was unfair. "Why does it always have to be me? What about my sisters?"  

"Harley—" 

"I get it, and I know how much you hate me, but why does it have to be my own life that would be ruined all the time? Why do I have to be the one to always sacrifice for your benefit?" 

"Do not raise your voice at me, girl." His hard gaze cut to me, and I tightened my fists, hiding them behind the tattered dress I wore. "Your sisters are engaged, and even if they weren't, you would still be the one to do it." 

"I have a boyfriend, and I won't dump him for this." 

A chuckle, and he shook his head with no remorse or care reflecting in his dark gaze. "Oh, you won't need to. Throw a bunch of cash at his face, and he will forget you exist. You think that fool is with you because he likes you or something? Foolish girl." 

"Dad!—" 

"It's Mr. Amadeo to you. I'm not your father!" 

He immediately shut me down. 

My face twisted into a mask of hatred, anger boiling inside of me. "If the net finds out about me, a daughter you've kept hidden, they will crawl under your skin and open you wide like a book, you know that right? Don't you think the Jones will wonder why you have refused to ever let the world know you have not two but three daughters?"

I sighed. "They will want to find out why, and what will you tell them? That I'm not your daughter even though you raised me? Do you think the Jones will really keep me a secret and never make this marriage public?"

He and I knew there were doubts there, but he was feigning as if it didn't bother him. "This is the deal, the marriage won't go public." He turned to his men. "They wouldn't have had to escort you to the church, but since you're proving stubborn, I'll have them handle you." 

"Bring her along." 

One of his men seemed taken aback—the one who'd been recruited by him at the little age of fourteen and was someone I considered a childhood friend.

"Boss…like this?" He pointed at me, referring to my entire appearance. 

My dress was a complete mess. I'd torn it, destroying it with a scissor because I needed the wedding stopped, and I was sure my father would.

He didn't.

He instead scoffed and turned, storming out of the room. "Bring her like that." 

My expression fell darkly, and I met the guard's eyes. They had all begun to advance towards me, and before I could slip away to run, they grabbed me by the arm and dragged me out of the room. 

"Harley, please don't resist. We don't have any intention of hurting you, so cooperate with us and go to the church." Olive, my childhood friend, spoke, and something akin to irritation built up in my throat. 

He made it sound so easy like it was a walk in the park to marry someone I didn't know. 

"Tell your buddies to take their hands off me, Olive." 

"I can't do that, Harley. Boss's order. You're coming with us to the church." He gave a curt nod to them, silently ordering them to further drag me out of the house. And obediently, they did, doing everything but being gentle with me. 

I squirmed and struggled to free myself, but knowing that it wouldn't work, I kicked off my heels, twisted my head, and bit into the hand of one of the men. He groaned painfully, immediately releasing his hold on me, and while the attention of the other men was grabbed, I slipped out of their grip, freeing myself at last.

It was quick, and the man closest to me found his neck locked in around my twisted leg, his body slammed to the floor before he could even blink. I sent a painful kick to the next closest guard, banging him into the floor and knocking him out. 

A look of annoyance I didn't care about emerged on the faces of the third and fourth men, and they rushed for me at the same time. I was quick on my feet, back flipping away, a smile crossing my face before they suddenly felt something digging into their legs.

I wasn't a chef, but I was good with knives, which Olive had taught me to throw to protect myself since my father would never grant me that.

My grin stretched wider, a proud look on my face. 

They looked down at their bleeding legs at the pocket knives and glared at me. Oh, how I hated all of them except Olive. 

"Your father is going to kill you!" 

I shrugged, bouncing happily on my bare feet. "Sure, if he finds me, that is." And I turned, attempting to flee the house, however, I wasn't sure when it'd happened, but a hand had slammed against my neck before I could evade. 

Olive caught me as I fell and lifted me into his arms, adjusting me properly. "Your father underestimates what you can do, Harley. You are a very dangerous thing… But hang in there, this is unfortunately my job. I can't help you. Though, do look forward to today being interesting."

I heard every single word he muttered, despite the fuzziness and darkness closing in on me.

Looks like I'm going to get married, after all.