Crowned by Hate (Crowned 1)

He gets to his feet and struts right up to me. Cocking his head, his eyes scan over my face. “Business arrangement. You stay here, play wife to what everyone out there,” he points to the windows, “thinks, but in short, we remain open.”

Okay, see this was what I was afraid of.

“Hang on a second…” I interject, trying my hardest not to bite his fucking dick off. “So what you’re basically saying is that I will have to be okay with you sleeping with other people?”

He quirks an eyebrow. “Tell me, who have I ever been known to sleep with?”

“What, media-wise?” I ask, tilting my head and wondering where in the hell he is going with this.

He nods, a small grin coming on display. “Yes, media-wise.”

I think over what he’s just asked. As far as the research I’ve done goes, he hasn’t been known to be with anyone. If I looked hard enough, though, or if Devon looked hard enough (because that man should be in the CIA), I bet we could find something. And anyway, what has that got to do with anything. “No, but what has that got to do with my question?”

“Answer me this honestly, Isa.” His chest brushes against mine. “If you had the chance to get fucked, any which way you wanted, and it not be leaked online, would you do it? Hmm?” he asks, running his eyes up and down my body.

“Well, yeah. But because of my dad, I never get that option so I settle on one-night stands or…” I pause, and then my mouth snaps shut.

“Or Devon,” Bryant continues for me anyway.

My eyes slant. “How do you know about Devon?”

His face turns to stone, and then he barges past me, heading toward the bathroom. “I know everything there is to know about you, Isa. Get changed, we need to start on our groundwork.”

I got changed in record time, mostly because Bryant was waiting for me in the sitting room, and what I guess, glaring at his watch every second. He wants us to start working on our ‘groundwork,’ whatever the fuck that means. Slipping on my strappy shoes, I take one last glance in the mirror. Well, this is more than over the top for groundwork. What if said groundwork is covered in mud, then this Louis Vuitton beige strapless short dress will no doubt get ruined. I wouldn’t even flinch, I hope it pains him. Although guessing from the amount of money Bryant has, I don’t think he’d care—no scratch that, I know that he wouldn’t care.

“You done?” he asks from the doorway. I look at him in the mirror, admiring what he’s wearing. Well, damn, it doesn’t matter how many times I’ve seen Bryant in a suit, every time I see him in one my mouth waters the same.

“Yup!” I cut off my own thoughts, picking up my clutch from my bed and wrapping the chain around my fist. I’m going to need to go and buy a vibrator because this lack of sex thing is not working for me.

We both get into the Ferrari once we reach the parking lot, and I take a look at the side mirror while reaching for my safety belt, watching as Jerry and three other MIB’s get into the black Range Rover behind us. Bryant puts the gear into reverse. “So,” I start, looking toward him. “What are we doing to start this groundwork?”

“Work party.”

“Figures,” I mutter, looking out the window as he floors it out from the underground parking and onto the busy street.

On our way to wherever this work function is, I created a plan. Bryant isn’t making this easy for me. In fact, he’s making it very difficult with his asshole tendencies. If he were nicer, maybe I would have come to him on my own accord instead of him basically blackmailing me into marrying him.

That’s a lie and I know it. I just maybe wouldn’t have thought of this plan that I’m thinking about right now.

1) I can’t just accept this fate. But if I do anything, will he unleash the tape to the police? He could.

2) He wouldn’t. He’s already expressed how much he wants and needs me to be his wife, therefore, I’m far more useful to him when I’m not behind bars.

Which leads me to 3) What have I always been good at when I’m not getting caught attempting to do it—which technically, makes me pretty shit at it—Run.

We pull up to the front of a huge glass building. The front of the doors have ‘Royal Enterprise Holdings’ sprawled out in grey lettering, and look, there’s even a gold crown as the company logo. How poetic. Rolling my eyes, I get out of the car and shut the door behind myself. In order for my plan to work, it will need to happen tonight, because the longer I leave it, the harder it will be for me to leave. I don’t want to give Bryant any time to sweet talk me into convincing myself that he’s not a bad person because he is. Bad for me, at least. Jerry and the three MIB’s get out of the Range Rover and walk up to us. “It’s all secure. I had some eyes look around the premise before we got here.”