Chapter 2 THE TRAFFIC DEAL

~ARIA~

“You know this is human trafficking, right?” I demand, staring straight into Adrian’s dark eyes. I throw every bit of anger I have left into those words, trying to find any weapon to break his calm facade. “And the last time I checked, that is still highly illegal, even for billionaires.”

Adrian doesn’t even flinch. Instead, he takes another step, completely invading my personal space, a slow, sinister smile tugging at the corners of his lips. The smile doesn’t reach his eyes. Oh boy, I don’t really like where this conversation is headed.

“What exactly are you doing?” I ask, my voice faltering a bit as I try to hide the tremor in my hands.

“Offering you a way out,” he says, his tone shockingly conversational despite the ruckus happening.

He reaches into his suit, pulling out another file from that same spot. It looks like that piece of clothing has an endless amount of space. This time, the file is much smaller, with a black cover. He holds it out between us and smirks. "Sign this," Adrian states smoothly, "and you will be able to save yourself from the absolute shame of walking out of your own wedding in handcuffs for a corporate fraud you had absolutely no part in. Twelve months, Aria. That is all I am asking for. You play the role of the perfect, devoted wife. You attend the galas, the high-society seminars, and the charity conferences by my side as my ever-dotting partner. What do you say?"

I stare at him, my mouth dropping open slightly. This man has to be completely, profoundly delusional. What on earth makes him think I would ever want to spend a single second in his presence, let alone an entire year of my life? It is mind-boggling. Fucking delusional, I think, my hands clenching into tight fists against the fabric of my dress. I would honestly rather rot in the depths of hell than become this man's trophy wife. And while I am on my way down, I will make absolutely sure to drag that spineless bitch Thomas down with me. They are both complete bastards.

“Mr. Adrian,” I say, my voice very cold. “What makes you think I’ll agree to your request? If that’s all you have to say, I’ll advise you to stop wasting your time and take me to jail already, because I’m not marrying you. Not in this life. Not in the next.”

He chuckles. “I thought you might say that, and that’s why I prepared this.” He says as he pulls out yet another file from that same suit. “This is enough evidence to extend your father’s jail term by fifteen years.”

“You know that evidence you are holding is fabricated! My father is innocent and you know it!”

He steps closer until we are only one inch apart. Then he leans in and whispers into my ear. “You may be right, darling, but the court only recognizes one thing: hard facts. And this, my dear, is very concrete evidence. I also heard that your mother’s chemotherapy treatment is due tomorrow. Two million dollars. That’s a really huge amount for you. How do you plan to source it?”

His final words pierce through my heart, and I am pretty sure that he can hear the sound of my heart ripping apart.

“So, which will you choose? Join your father in jail for breach of contract, be the reason your father serves an extra jail term, and throw away the opportunity to save your mother, OR sign the contract and benefit greatly from it?"

“You’re a psychopath,” I scream at him.

“No, I'm efficient. What do you say? Your clock is ticking, and if by the time the countdown is over you haven’t made a choice, I will make it for you. Five. Four. Three. Two...”

“Fine,” I whisper, barely audible.

“What did you say?” Adrian asks with a devilish grin, clearly relishing the moment.

You know what? Fine, I’ll play by their rules. If Adrian wants me to be his wife, I’ll happily do so, but I have to remind him that I don’t come with a return policy. And just so he knows, I'm clearly benefiting from this deal.

“So, let’s say I agree to this deal, what’s in it for me?” I ask him suspiciously.

He then motions to one of the steroid pancake boys who steps forward with a black file. Thank goodness he didn’t pull that one from his suit.

“Inside there is a check for five million dollars, an immediate wire transfer to your mom’s hospital, and a signed retainer for the best appellate lawyers in the state to look into your father’s case," Adrian states smoothly. "If you want, I can also make sure your groom—or should I say ex-groom—is immediately prosecuted for grand larceny and fraudulent misrepresentation, ensuring he rots in jail for deceiving you to put a signature on a fraudulent contract."

Beside me, Thomas is frozen, like actually frozen. I'm sure that even the last person on the pew can hear the clattering of his teeth. “Baby, you can’t do this to me. I have stood by you through thick and thin. Remember when your house was mortgaged and you had no other place to go? You stayed at my place...”

“You offered to have me in your house only because you wanted to get under my skirt,” I spit back. At the mention of this, I see Adrian’s jaw tick. What’s his deal? “And when I refused, you chased me out under the pretense of finding me a hotel that was more comfortable. That same night, you brought Tanya, my closest friend, to your house and fucked her. So tell me, Thomas, why should I pity you?”

“Be... cause.. be... cause... you were supposed to marry me just now!”

“Thomas baby, you and I know that this marriage is not going to work and that sooner or later we will be separated.” I think this gets him because he goes berserk.

“Aria, you are foolish and selfish! You think because you got a better man, you get to treat me like trash? But baby, you know the one thing I learned in our two-year relationship? It is that you don’t have balls. You can’t bear to hurt me. I see it in your eyes. You still love me!”

Looks like the bastard doesn’t know me well. You know what?

Screw Thomas.

Screw this wedding.

“Time to put an end to this charade,” I say as I snatch the file from Adrian and scribble my signature in jagged, angry strokes.

“Here, honey,” I say to Adrian as I hand the file to him and link our arms together. “Let’s go home. And while you’re at it, make sure to deal with Thomas,” I say in a voice loud enough for Thomas to hear.

Adrian doesn’t smile. He just stares down at the jagged signature drying on the page, his grip tightening around the folder. When he looks up, his dark eyes don't hold victory. They hold a terrifying emptiness that sends chills down my spine.

He doesn't break our locked arms. Instead, he leans down slowly, his lips almost brushing my ear once more, his voice a freezing whisper. "You think you won a prize, Aria," he murmurs, his fingers digging into my skin with bruising force. "But you just signed your soul over to the devil. And trust me... I never let my property go."