"Somehow you stole what belonged to me!"
Evelyn frowned, taking steps back away from him.
"Have you lost your mind? How is that even possible? I haven't been home in a year, not until his funeral. And like you said, Dad doesn't like me much, so how could I have made him write this will?"
"I don't know, you tell me." Preston looked murderous.
"Preston." She was beginning to have a headache. "You said it yourself, Dad doesn't like me, he never has, not even when we were kids. I haven't seen him in a year, we have never even spoken. Am I some magician?"
He began pacing the room back and forth, restless.
"She's not really going to have the corporation…is she?" Lyra asked, glaring at her.
Brandon's eyes darkened. "Why would she ever? She's incompetent! She's not worthy of it, and that Will has to be a mistake!"
Evelyn balled her fists. "I don't even want the company anyway. Preston can have it if he—"
"That won't be possible," Mr. Garelt interrupted.
Everyone looked at him.
"Meaning?" Preston questioned.
Garelt's lips pressed into a line.
"You cannot sell TDG."
"Why?" Evelyn asked. "You said it's my corporation now. Shouldn't I be able to sell it to Preston if I wanted?"
"Normally, you should be able to, but not in your father's case," Garelt said. "Your father arranged legal documents, in other words, consequences if you dare give the company away. You can say he knew you would do this."
Evelyn squinted. "What…?"
"This is a corporation. So, yes, were you to sell the company, you won't be receiving a dime in return, and you can get sued by the shareholders. Meaning this corporation can only ever be transferred to another after your death, just like now."
The mention of death made her take a step back. Preston had caught her eyes, and so did Brandon, whose expression was unreadable.
Was this some kind of punishment?
Why would her father set her up like this? What had she done so wrong to him?
"There is one more thing left to be said." Garelt grabbed another document from the desk. "In return for this inheritance, you are going to have to marry someone important to the corporation."
She kept her precious boba tea aside. "Say what again?"
"Your father has two signatures here. His, and another belonging to someone—the man he'd decided you were going to marry. It is a must in return for TDG he's handed over to you."
Things were starting to get a bit out of hand now.
"Who is it?" Lyra questioned.
Geralt parted his lips. "Zayne Mancini."
The door pushed open suddenly. Geralt halted speaking, glancing towards the door with the rest.
A smile spread across his wrinkly lips.
"Mr. Zayne."
Evelyn turned her head. Her gaze stretched over a man whom she'd never really seen before.
He was at least two hundred and eight centimeters tall, large frame dressed in a pair of ash coloured suit, hands tucked into the pocket of the knee—length trench coat he had on. His hair was very black, shoulder-length, but left in a low man-bun with only a few strands dropping over his face.
She swallowed.
Preston's forehead creased into a frown.
Lyra's mouth fell apart slightly.
And Brandon balled his fists.
"Hello, Geralt."
He looked…mean. Really handsome, but mean.
"It's good you've come, Mr. Zayne. We were just getting to the last part," Geralt said.
Evelyn looked at Geralt. "Wait. This… this is him?"
"Yes." Geralt nodded. "Ms. Evelyn, this is Mr. Zayne Mancini, the biggest shareholder of TDG," he introduced. "Mr. Mancini, this is Evelyn Veora Darkwood, your betrothed."
She looked between the two men and waved her hands, chuckling. "Wait, wait, wait. Betro—what?"
Geralt sighed. "Ms. Evelyn, I told you, your father already had you betrothed to Mr. Zayne here before writing TDG to you."
"I don't want the stupid corporation! I never agreed to any of this," she snapped. "How does he give me away without my consent? He—"
"So you're the one…" the voice, too icy with an edge to it, mumbled, silence falling in the room.
She turned her gaze to find Zayne approaching. Close, closer, until he was in her space. He tilted his head, scrutinized her, and looked at Geralt.
"When do we proceed with the marriage?" he asked.
Geralt shook his head. "Mr. Sage didn't put down a specific date, so I assume you can proceed whenever you feel like it."
"Then let's get on with it."
"Wait, what the hell?" Evelyn lost it. "Are any of you listening to me? I never agreed to marry anyone, and I'm not going to!"
Zayne looked at her, regarding her with curiosity. "Let me get this straight. You don't want to marry me, is that it?"
"I. Don't," she emphasized in his face. "I don't even know who you are."
Preston pinched the bridge of her nose. "How would you know when you've never cared for success? Just running around, doing whatever you want, and being a useless member of this family."
He sent her a glare that scotched her skin. But that only made her madder than she already was.
Her hands flexed and curled into fists.
"You know what, Preston, go eat sand," she hissed. "You're mad about this? Well, don't come for me. Go to dear daddy's grave and ask him yourself why he gave the corporation to a useless member of the family like me, and not you, his oh, precious favorite son!"
"You bitch!" Preston spat.
She faced Zayne.
"And as for you, Mr. Mancini, whoever you are, I am not interested in marrying you. I didn't consent to any of this, so whatever deal you had, you did with my father, not me. None of this has anything to do with me."
"You don't exactly have a choice," Zayne's voice, smokey and deep like a cold night, thrummed through her ears, and she watched his eyes narrow. "I don't know why you're acting like you're unaware, but you can't just say no."
"Hell, yes, I can," she scoffed. "And for your information, I have a boyfriend, so no way am I marrying you."
"Do not test me."
"Or what?"
He frowned.
A step, another step until they were just an inch apart.
"W-what?" She could feel his oozing body heat.
No response from him, only his impassive gaze, pulling closer, making her smaller, until she felt his cold, gloved hand around her chin. He tilted her head to the side, eyes gliding over her mating gland.
He felt the tingle in his teeth, the smell of her scent wafting into his nose and clouding his head. Ah, yes, she was his mate—the one he wanted.
Evelyn listened to her chest pound. Sparks like an electric were rushing through her body, lungs burning as she held her breath. In what? Anticipation?
Of what?
"You're a wild one." His lips curled into a smirk. "But I'll see you at the church tomorrow."