Chapter 2 - THE DEBT CHANGES HANDS
“So what do you suggest?” Mara said bitterly. “Should I marry you instead?”
The rain kept falling.
For one long second, Rowan Graves said nothing.
Mara expected anger. Maybe one of his cold remarks. Maybe he would tell her grief had made her reckless.
Instead, he looked past her at the church doors, where her father stood beneath the stone arch with two Whitlock guards beside him.
Daniel Whitlock’s face had gone pale.
That frightened Mara more than Rowan’s silence.
Her father had heard her.
And he was not offended.
He looked relieved.
Rowan returned his gaze to her.
“Yes,” he said.
The word was so calm that Mara almost missed its violence.
“What?”
“You should marry me.”
The men near the steps stopped pretending not to listen.
Mara laughed once.
It sounded sharp and ugly.
“Caleb has been dead for three days.”
“I know.”
“The flowers from his funeral are still in my hands.”
“I can see them.”
“And you think this is the moment to propose?”
“This is not a proposal.”
Rowan moved closer, lowering his voice.
“It is a survival arrangement.”
Mara searched his face for cruelty.
She found none.
That would have been easier.
Cruelty could be hated. Cruelty could be fought.
Rowan looked deadly serious.
Her father approached before she could answer.
“Not here,” Daniel said.
Mara turned on him.
“You knew?”
“I knew it was a possibility.”
“A possibility?”
Daniel glanced at the men surrounding them.
“Get in the car, Mara.”
“No.”
A black Cadillac appeared at the far end of the street again.
This time, it did not pass.
It stopped.
The rear window lowered two inches.
Then a gunshot shattered the church’s stone angel above Mara’s head.
Rowan moved before the sound finished echoing.
He wrapped one arm around her waist and dragged her behind an armored SUV. His other hand drew a pistol from beneath his coat.
Graves soldiers opened fire.
The Cadillac accelerated through the intersection, tires cutting through rainwater as bullets struck its trunk and rear glass.
People screamed.
The priest dropped behind the church wall.
Daniel’s guards surrounded him.
Mara barely heard any of it.
Her back was pressed against Rowan’s chest.
His arm covered her ribs.
His hand remained steady as he aimed over the vehicle’s hood.
The Cadillac disappeared.
Rowan lowered his weapon.
“You were saying?”
Mara shoved away from him.
“You knew this would happen.”
“I knew something would.”
“And you let me stand there?”
His face hardened.
“I stood between you and the street.”
“You stood close enough to make your dramatic offer.”
“Mara.”
“No. Do not use that voice with me.”
“What voice?”
“The one that makes everyone obey you.”
Rowan looked toward the church.
“Everyone does not obey me.”
His eyes returned to hers.
“You certainly never have.”
Daniel reached them.
“We have to move.”
Mara stared at her father.
“How much?”
He did not answer.
“How much do you owe them?”
Daniel’s silence gave her the truth.
She stepped toward him.
“The Petrovs did not come because Caleb died. They came because of you.”
“I made choices to keep our family alive.”
“You borrowed Russian money.”
“I borrowed from men who were useful at the time.”
“And now?”
“Now they own the debt.”
“How much?”
“Twenty million.”
The number seemed impossible.
The Whitlocks owned restaurants, warehouses, small construction companies and several valuable properties near the river.
They did not have twenty million dollars.
Mara looked at Rowan.
“Did you know?”
“I learned last night.”
“And now you want to buy the debt?”
“No.”
Rowan’s answer came instantly.
“I want to destroy the men holding it.”
Daniel looked around nervously.
“Not on the street.”
They entered Rowan’s SUV.
Mara sat opposite him in the rear compartment. Daniel sat beside her, water dripping from his gray hair.
The doors locked.
The vehicle moved.
Rowan took a clean handkerchief from his pocket and held it toward Mara.
She stared at it.
“Your hand.”
She looked down.
The rose thorns had cut four small wounds into her palm.
Blood mixed with rainwater.
“I’m fine.”
“You are bleeding on the seat.”
She took the handkerchief just so she could hate him properly.
Daniel leaned forward.
“The Russians believe Caleb’s death dissolved our protection agreement.”
“It did,” Rowan said.
Mara’s chest tightened.
Hearing Rowan speak of the agreement so coldly made Caleb’s death feel like a business transaction.
Rowan noticed.
His expression shifted almost invisibly.
“The agreement died,” he clarified. “My loyalty to Caleb did not.”
Daniel nodded.
“Viktor Petrov has offered a solution.”
Mara already knew she would hate it.
“What solution?”
Daniel looked down.
“He will forgive the debt if you marry his son.”
For several seconds, the only sound was the rain striking the vehicle’s roof.
Mara looked from her father to Rowan.
“You let me attend Caleb’s funeral without telling me that another man had already placed a price on me?”
“I was trying to find another way.”
“You were waiting for Rowan to offer himself.”
Daniel’s face tightened.
“Mara—”
“You knew exactly what you were doing.”
“Caleb was supposed to marry you.”
“But he died.”
Her father flinched.
Mara did not care.
“And now I am still useful because apparently grief does not lower my market value.”
Rowan’s voice cut through the car.
“That is enough.”
Mara turned on him.
“You do not get to defend him.”
“I’m not.”
“Then who are you defending?”
“You.”
She laughed bitterly.
“By marrying me?”
“By giving the city a reason to believe touching you means war with the Graves family.”
“And the wedding ring accomplishes what your friendship with Caleb could not?”
“Yes.”
His honesty left her without an immediate reply.
Rowan leaned forward.
“Caleb’s engagement protected you because everyone knew you would become family. His death created uncertainty. Marriage removes it.”
“To you.”
“Yes.”
“My dead fiancé’s best friend.”
Something flashed in Rowan’s eyes.
Pain.
It disappeared quickly, but Mara saw it.
“He was my brother,” Rowan said. “Do not think I have forgotten that.”
“Then how can you even suggest this?”
“Because he made me promise.”
The vehicle seemed to stop breathing.
Mara whispered, “What?”
Rowan looked toward the rain-covered window.
“Two weeks before he died, Caleb came to my office. He said something felt wrong. He believed someone was following you. He asked me that if anything happened to him, I would keep you alive.”
Mara’s fingers closed around the bloody handkerchief.
“He knew?”
“He suspected.”
“Why didn’t he tell me?”
“He said you would refuse protection.”
“He was right.”
“Yes.”
The answer angered her because Caleb would have laughed when saying the same thing.
Mara struggled to breathe through the pressure in her chest.
“What exactly did he ask you to do?”
Rowan’s gaze met hers.
“He said, ‘If they take me off the board, put her behind your name.’”
Mara shook her head.
“No.”
“I told him he was being dramatic.”
“No.”
“He made me promise.”
“You misunderstood him.”
“I did not.”
“Caleb would never ask me to marry someone else.”
“He asked me to protect you. Marriage is the strongest protection I can give.”
“It is also the easiest way to take control of everything my family owns.”
Daniel shifted uncomfortably.
Rowan did not.
“You will keep your family assets.”
“And you expect me to trust that?”
“No.”
The answer surprised her again.
“I expect a contract,” Rowan continued. “Separate property. Independent legal representation. The marriage lasts one year, or until the Petrov threat is removed. You may leave after that with everything that belonged to you before the wedding.”
“And during that year?”
“You live under my protection.”
“In your house.”
“Yes.”
“Sleep in your bed?”
Daniel looked away.
Rowan’s eyes did not leave hers.
“No.”
A strange heat crossed Mara’s face.
She hated herself for it.
Rowan continued.
“You will have your own rooms. Your own staff if you choose. No expectations beyond public appearances.”
“No children.”
His jaw tightened slightly.
“No children.”
“No touching unless necessary for appearances.”
“Agreed.”
“No controlling where I go.”
“Within reason.”
“There is no ‘within reason.’”
“There is when people are shooting at you outside churches.”
Mara looked at the bulletproof window.
He was right.
She hated that too.
Daniel said quietly, “Mara, we do not have time.”
She rounded on him.
“You should have thought of that before borrowing twenty million dollars.”
“I borrowed six. Interest and penalties became twenty.”
“That is supposed to make me feel better?”
“I did it after your mother became ill.”
Mara froze.
Her mother had died five years earlier after a long fight with cancer.
Daniel continued.
“The treatment overseas, the specialists, the private flights—I could not let her die because I was afraid of debt.”
Mara’s anger weakened.
Only slightly.
“You should have told me.”
“You were twenty-two.”
“I was her daughter.”
“And I was her husband.”
His voice broke.
It was the first time Mara had heard grief in him since the funeral five years ago.
She turned toward the window.
The city passed in wet gray shapes.
A marriage to Rowan Graves.
A year inside the home of the man Caleb had trusted above anyone.
A year pretending to be a wife while mourning the husband she had expected to have.
It felt wrong.
It felt impossible.
But Caleb had apparently seen danger before anyone else.
And somebody had already fired at her beneath the church where his coffin rested.
“When?” she asked.
Daniel exhaled.
Rowan said, “Tomorrow.”
Mara looked at him.
“You cannot be serious.”
“The Petrovs gave your father forty-eight hours to accept their offer.”
“And when did that begin?”
“Yesterday.”
She looked at Daniel.
He lowered his eyes.
Mara almost opened the car door while it was moving.
Instead, she held Rowan’s gaze.
“If I do this, my father’s debt becomes mine.”
“It becomes mine.”
“No. That is exactly what I will not allow.”
“Mara—”
“You will not own me because you paid someone else’s bill.”
Rowan’s voice became quieter.
“I do not want to own you.”
“What do you want?”
For the first time since entering the car, Rowan seemed uncertain.
It lasted less than a second.
“To keep my promise.”
The answer should have comforted her.
It did not.
Because Mara knew Rowan Graves.
He never did anything for only one reason.
“Tomorrow,” she said. “Private ceremony. No celebration.”
Rowan nodded.
“My lawyer writes the contract.”
“Agreed.”
“I keep my name.”
“Use whichever name you choose.”
“And if I discover you are lying about Caleb’s request, the marriage ends immediately.”
Something dark entered his expression.
“Agreed.”
Daniel closed his eyes with relief.
Mara looked at Rowan.
“I have one more condition.”
“Name it.”
“You find out who killed Caleb.”
Rowan’s face went cold enough to freeze the rain outside.
“I was going to do that anyway.”
“No matter where the truth leads.”
His eyes narrowed.
“Where do you think it will lead?”
“I do not know.”
Mara leaned closer.
“But whoever killed him knew his schedule. They knew about the Fulton Street meeting. They knew which warehouse entrance he used.”
Rowan said nothing.
“They were close to him,” Mara continued. “Maybe close to you.”
The vehicle turned through iron gates surrounding the Graves estate.
Rowan’s eyes moved toward the armed men stationed along the drive.
His own men.
His trusted men.
His family.
“You are right,” he said at last.
The car stopped beneath a covered entrance.
Rowan opened the door.
Cold air rushed inside.
Mara stepped out, but Rowan caught her wrist lightly.
She looked down at his hand.
He released her immediately.
“There is something else,” he said.
Daniel had already entered the house.
Mara waited.
Rowan reached into his coat.
He removed a small velvet box.
Caleb’s ring was inside.
The bent silver ring recovered from the warehouse.
Mara’s throat closed.
“Why do you have that?”
“The police gave it to me because I identified the remains.”
“You said there were teeth.”
“There were.”
“Were they his?”
Rowan’s silence stretched too long.
Mara stared at him.
“Were they Caleb’s?”
“The dental comparison was inconclusive.”
Her pulse began pounding.
“You buried an empty coffin without knowing?”
“The fire destroyed almost everything.”
“That does not answer me.”
“No,” Rowan said. “It does not.”
He placed the ring in her palm.
Mara examined the blackened metal.
Caleb had worn it every day.
But something felt wrong.
She turned it over.
Inside the band, Caleb had engraved a single letter months earlier.
M.
For Mara.
The letter was missing.
Her head lifted.
“This is not his ring.”
Rowan went still.
“Are you certain?”
“I watched him engrave it himself.”
She held the ring beneath the entrance light.
“This belonged to someone else.”
Rowan looked toward his security men.
Then back at Mara.
The rain continued falling behind them.
Somewhere in Chicago, church bells began to ring.
Mara closed her fist around the false ring.
“Caleb might be alive.”
Rowan’s expression did not soften with hope.
May you like
It became more dangerous.
“If he is,” Rowan said, “then someone wanted us to believe he was dead.”
