Between Commitment and Betrayal: Chapter 1
Between Commitment and Betrayal: An Arranged Marriage Romance
âSHE WONâT BE COMING OVER,â I heard from the doorway of the yoga studio room. The smile on my face dropped off like a ton of bricks.
Itâd been only two months of me living in sunny Florida with my estranged father, but it felt like two lifetimes. I met his blue-eyed gaze with my own. The color of them was about the only thing my father had handed down to me. âCarl, seriously?â I whispered.
âMr. Milton, donât you think your daughter can make the decision herself?â Wes Bauer rolled up his yoga mat and stood up near me.
âI can make that decision myself,â I pointed out, combing a hand through the waves of my hair that had succumbed to the rigorous workout.
My father scoffed, his face turned beet red. âI agreed to you working here at the fitness center for us to build a relationship, Evie. This isnât the way to do it.â
I sighed, âCan we talk about this later, Carl?â
âWeâll talk now.â He shook his finger at me.
This was why I hadnât seen him in eighteen years. Carl Milton was truly a baby, an only child that had inherited a fortune from grandparents I had never met. Heâd gone on to live a life where no one defied him, leaving my mom and me when I was just six years old because we âwerenât good listeners.â
Heâd actually only agreed to have me come work for his fitness center after my mother guilted him into it. Sheâd said I needed to escape my hometown and start a new life away from the graduate school Iâd dropped out of.
She was right, of course. I knew that. I was drowning under a deep sea of pain that I couldnât swim above. Iâd planned to leave and start anew somewhere else, but Iâd never wanted it to be here.
Yet, Carl insisted. Said he was going into heart failure, that he should be getting to know his only biological daughter.
Iâd given in to the naive hope of the little girl still wanting her fatherâs love and relocated halfway across the country to Florida two months ago.
Like an idiot.
âIf you go, Iâll call Declan.â Carl announced, and Wes groaned as he tightened the dark man bun on his head.
âCall me for what?â Declan Hardyâs voice was always strong. Deep. Authoritative enough that it commanded all the attention in the room even as all six foot three of him leaned casually against the doorframe. With chiseled muscle and a famous, beautiful face, the retired NFL star had not a care in the worldâeven though heâd intruded on someoneâs private conversation.
My seething father huffed as he walked over to his business partner. âEvie thinks sheâs going to a party at this asshatâs house again. Please, for my sake and our business, take care of it.â
With that, he walked out, leaving me with that word again bouncing around in my head.
Again. That was the real problem. This wasnât the first time my father had intervened in my dating life. Heâd called Declan a month ago and had him fly in to retrieve me from Wesâs house.
Fly. Like in an airplane. And Declan had just gone along with it, knocked on Wesâs door, and demanded I leave. That was the world I was living in. To them, I was Carlâs precious daughter, breaking a cardinal rule.
Wes chuckled and winked at me before he said, âIâll swing by and pick you up at the end of your shift, Evie.â He stalked out of the studio, holding Declanâs gaze as he murmured back to me, âMaybe you can stay the night.â
My fatherâs business partner flicked his vivid green eyes to me with that comment, capturing my stare and holding it hostage like he owned it. I saw the spark of anger, the question, and the entitlement.
âEverly,â he ground out, his voice rumbling so deep in his throat before it emerged that I shivered.
Tension ricocheted off the windows and the mirrors as I stood nonresponsive, the silence engulfing us. I let the quiet stretch on and on, unwilling to give him an iota of the information that I knew he must want. He didnât deserve it nor was he entitled to it. Yet, even still, my whole body practically shook with the need to submit to him, to give up control to him.
Did he have this effect on everyone? So dominating and attractive that he could bend most people to his will? He thought he could just silently lean against a doorframe and make a person to answer a question he hadnât even asked yet.
His jaw ticked up and down, up and down before he dropped the question so casually, I wasnât sure Iâd heard him right. âHow many times have you slept with him?â
I blinked once. Twice. Three times before the words registered. Anger, hot as molten rock, flowed through my blood as my mouth dropped open at his audacity. âAre you serious?â I breathed out, twisting the towel I held in my hands. Then I wiped it over my face, trying my best not to freak out. With a wet sports bra that had the HEAT logo on it, my curls frizzed out, and only twenty minutes until my next one-on-one training session, I shouldnât have even been entertaining the ridiculous conversation.
And yet, it was technically with my boss.
âYes, Everly.â He pushed off the doorframe and stepped toward me. Hissing my full name like no one else would was another show of him trying to grate on my nerves. I just knew it. And on top of that, he came close to tower over me like he could intimidate me. âHow many times did you sleep with that fucker?â
I stood toe-to-toe with him, meeting his gaze right back even if he was a whole head and a half taller than me. My body never reacted in fear the way it should have with him, it got stupid butterflies in my gut instead. I figured everyone got those, though.
Declan Hardy was a global sensation for a reason. It wasnât just that he was an investor in my fatherâs hospitality and fitness empire either. That face, his thick dark hair, those piercing green eyes that stared into my soul every time he glanced my way. âThat fucker?â I emphasized his language and lifted an eyebrow as I glared at him.
He shook his head like he wanted to chastise me and waited for me to explain. Yet, Iâd learned long ago not to indulge in idle conversation around my personal life.
He breathed out when he realized I intended to stay quiet. âYouâre Carlâs daughter, Everly.â He said it like I should know better.
I shoved the plush towel into my duffel while grumbling, âI canât believe he tattled to his partner about where Iâm going again.â
Declan pointed at a sleek gold bin. âThere are clean towels in the locker room. You can dispose of that one there.â
The luxury this man was accustomed to made me wrinkle my nose. âIâm fine reusing.â
He wiped a hand over his face. âYouâre going to make us all go insane.â
âSeriously?â I scoffed. âYou barely see me.â
âAnd yet every time I do, youâre ruffling feathers,â he pointed out.
I tried not to raise my voice as I hiked my duffel bag up onto my shoulder. âIf youâre talking about the meeting you couldnât attend last week, Iâd simply requested an empty yoga studio for the Sunville kids in this town to utilize for childrenâs yoga.â
âIââ He narrowed his eyes. âYour father didnât say it was for kids.â
Could I roll my eyes at this point or would that have been too disrespectful? Sunville Elementary was an underserved school that was in desperate need of more after-school activities. It was a way for the HEAT Empire to give back to the community. A win-win really. Yet, my father had immediately shut down the idea.
âHad you not skipped the meeting, you would know that, Mr. Hardy.â
âDeclan,â he corrected, his eyes flashing with irritation. âIâm busy. I train athletes, have shareholder meetings, andââ
âYes, a skydiving appointment seems like it should take precedence.â
That chiseled jaw ticked fast. Maybe he thought because I was quiet that I would back down, that I would roll over since he was a major shareholder of this elite fitness and hospitality brand. HEAT stood for Hardy Elite All-Access Team and supposedly spanned the nation with resorts, fitness centers, restaurants and more.
My backbone wasnât impressed and was still very much present when it came to what Iâd be doing while I was here. I intended to make an impact where I could even if I didnât plan to stay forever.
âIâm sure it wasnât skydiving.â
âFine. Racing a car.â I shrugged and squeezed the bagâs strap on my shoulder when he dragged his gaze up and down my body like he was measuring me up.
âIâm not going to argue with you, Everly,â he said softly. Still, it somehow felt like he was grinding salt into a wound.
âItâs Evie,â I threw out, knowing it wouldnât matter.
âLook, have more classes for the kids. Iâll never say no to that.â He scratched the back of his neck, his bicep bunching and showing off a few of the tattoos he had on his upper arm beneath his white T-shirt. âI just had other meetings. If you need to discuss implementing new classes that you know your father is going to disagree with, you should probably make sure Iâm available. Do you check the schedule?â
Could I smack the condescension out of his tone or would I lose my job for that? âIâll make sure to double-check it next time.â
âSee that you do. And letâs not get your fatherâs heart worked up. Wes is probably twice your age. You canât be seen with that asshole.â He said it offhandedly, like he could slide one extra request in.
I combed a hand through my waves. âTwice my age? Get real, Mr. Hardy,â I sneered his last name since he couldnât be bothered to listen to my request either. âIâm twenty-four. And just because Iâm his daughter doesnât mean Iâm not going to date people Iâm interested in.â
He tilted his head, like he needed to study me all of a sudden. Like he was realizing I was more than ten years old. His gaze dragged over me, licking up every curve of my body, and then he shut his eyes tight as if seeing what appealed to another man was painful. It infuriated me that my body even responded to his perusal. âHeâs not just a guy, Everly. Heâs an asshole. Being seen with him is bad for press. Youâre a part of HEAT now.â
âReally?â I cocked a hip and lifted an eyebrow, ready for this to be over. âSo, there are rules already regarding who I date because of a headline? Youâre going to continue to come to his house and drag me out because youâre nervous it might tarnish a brand name? Do you hear how ridiculous that sounds?â
âWe barely accepted him into HEAT based on his reputation and how heâs played in the NFL. He plays a dirty game and his fuckboy reputationââ
âI donât watch football and can make my own judgments on a person. I donât need the press telling me who to date.â I cut him off, furious that my fatherâs business partner thought Iâd let the mediaâs story on a person sway me.
I wouldnât let journalists or the internet paint someoneâs story like they had mine once before. In my hometown, I wasnât trusted, wasnât looked at as a person, wasnât given the benefit of the doubt.
âYou donât watch football but you know how to rehab an athlete?â He really hated that I was working in his gym with no credentials when it seemed all his other employees were overqualified.
âI provide stretching techniques, not full rehab.â As he knew. Iâd gained client after client for the unique way I handled each of them and thereâd not been one complaint since I started. âAnd Iâm going to be late for a one-on-one. So, if weâre done here â¦â
I brushed past him, but before I could walk away, his voice rolled over me cold enough to freeze me mid-step. âYou didnât answer my question.â
I turned to look at him. In the middle of this yoga studio, he was a beautiful sight among the mirrors reflecting around him with the backdrop of floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked the Atlantic. âWhat was it?â
âHow many times have you fucked him?â
My whole body tightened at how he phrased it this time. My stomach, my throat, my nipples, my sex squeezed and ached in hate but also something more. The visceral reaction I had to this man was dangerous, tempting, and completely wrong.
âThatâs absolutely none of your business.â The answer was zero and would probably remain that way. Weâd casually gone on a few dates that led to nothing because Wes didnât cause a reaction in me at all.
âSo, you havenât. That answer changes, Everly, and Iâm coming for him.â Declanâs voice was low in warning, like I shouldnât question him, and I felt the vibration of it shoot through my body, giving me goose bumps everywhere.
I considered giving him the finger as I left him in the studio by himself. But he was my boss.
My off-limits boss I hated and wanted all at the same time.