Chapter 4 No Escape

Left alone, the remaining candidates filed out, their looks of open hatred directed at Ariana. She lowered her head, refusing to meet their eyes.

Amber, clearly dissatisfied, looked Ariana up and down with blatant disdain.

“She doesn’t look competent at all, Chris!” Amber snapped, letting out a harsh snort. “Are you sure you want to place her at my side?”

Christian did not respond. His dark gaze settled on Ariana. “Sit,” he said casually, his voice low and commanding. “Eight hundred thousand pounds for an old villa,” he repeated the number, as if weighing it. “Do you really think a businessman like me would throw away that much money on a property that old, Miss Austen?”

Clenching her fingers together, Ariana lifted her head. “Please help me, Mr. Matheus. My mother needs immediate medical treatment,” she said, her eyes wet, on the verge of tears.

The corner of Christian’s thin lips curved upward. He pressed the tip of his cigar into the ashtray. “Are you going to keep talking like that?” he glanced at his personal assistant. Lorne nodded, understanding the silent cue, then stepped forward and guided Ariana to the sofa across from them. “I prefer to discuss business this way.”

Ariana stiffened and hesitantly raised her face. “You really are going to buy the land where my villa stands, right?”

“One hundred pounds. No matter how large the land is, I’ll only pay one hundred pounds,” he replied, his voice low.

Ariana flinched, her eyes lifting wide. “What?” she hissed angrily. Her reddened gaze searched for Christian’s wild, calculating eyes. He was trying to deceive her. “That price is far too low. Our villa is beautiful. How can you do this?” she demanded, staring at him in disbelief.

Christian let out a cold laugh, one that made the atmosphere in the room even more oppressive. “I never agreed to buy your villa. But if you accept my offer, you’ll get your money this very second.” He took a clean glass, poured whiskey into it, and slid it toward Ariana. “Become Amber’s personal attendant. Protect the child in her womb, and you’ll get your eight hundred thousand. Take this and drink, if you agree.”

Her eyes dropped to the whiskey in the crystal glass. Christian added ice without the slightest hint of guilt. Her small jaw tightened, her hand clutching the fabric of her dress until her teeth trembled. The image of her mother’s pale, motionless face on a hospital bed flashed through her mind.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Matheus, but I don’t drink alcohol,” she refused curtly, boldly pushing the glass away.

One of Christian’s eyebrows lifted, mildly surprised by Ariana’s rudeness. “Are you refusing my offer, Miss Austen?”

“Chris, are you serious? Look at her. She’s skinny. Her hair is a mess, her dress is awful,” Amber sneered, scanning Ariana from head to toe. “She’s not fit to take care of our child. She looks more like a beggar,” she mocked.

“Of course. I’ll call in a new candidate…”

“No, Mr. Matheus!” Ariana interrupted, her grip on her dress tightening. “I agree. I’ll become your wife’s attendant.”

Christian’s lips parted slightly, forming a satisfied smile. He brought the glass of whiskey and ice back in front of Ariana. “A wise choice, Miss Austen. Drink a little as a sign of our agreement,” he said, his heavy voice echoing in the silent room.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Matheus. I don’t drink. I’m also pregnant,” she said, her voice trembling.

Christian’s cold gaze dropped to Ariana’s flat stomach. “Are you married?”

She lowered her face. She stayed silent for a long moment. Biting her lower lip, a flash of hatred toward Diana resurfaced. Ariana shook her head as tears fell. “No. My lover has passed away,” she answered softly, her voice nearly fading. “I have no one left but my mother.”

She did not even know the face of the man who had bought her womb from Diana.

“Chris, did you hear that? She’s pregnant!” Amber shouted dramatically. “You want to hire a pregnant woman as my maid? No, I won’t allow it. Throw her out!”

***  

“Sign it,” he said. His voice was low, his command absolute. Lorne placed the contract on the table in front of Ariana. “Since you’re pregnant, you’ll find it easier to understand Amber’s needs.”

Amber sat down, her annoyed gaze sharpening. Her protests were ignored by Christian. Her anger immediately flushed her face red as she crossed her arms. “You’ll regret this choice, Chris,” she hissed. “Hurry up and sign it. What are you waiting for?” she barked at Ariana impatiently.

“My pregnancy won’t interfere. I will serve Madam Amber,” Ariana said seriously. Her hand trembled as she reached for the gold pen engraved with Christian’s name. She signed her name, catching a brief glimpse of Christian’s cold expression as she did.

“It’s done, Mr. Matheus,” she said carefully, handing the contract back.

He took it and examined the document before passing it to Lorne. “Good, Miss Austen.” He pushed a check toward her, freshly filled out with a staggering amount. “This is your money.”

“Thank you, sir.” Her eyes shone, and she could not hold back her tears.

She reached for the check, but a large hand caught her wrist midair. Their eyes met with different intensities.

“If anything happens to the child Amber is carrying,” his gaze turned lethal as it moved from her face down to her stomach, “I will make sure that neither you nor the child in your womb ever sees this world.” He leaned closer to Ariana, then roughly released her wrist and added, “Make sure you don’t make a mistake.”

Ariana swallowed. She suddenly forgot how to breathe. The sharp scent of musk enveloped her, and his dark gaze locked onto her small blue eyes.

She was about to nod in submission when her eyes caught a glimpse of a tattoo peeking out from beneath the open collar of his shirt. It was a black thistle entwined around a sword. A horrifying memory from her childhood suddenly flooded her mind.

Ariana’s eyes froze. Her body stiffened. Her lips parted, trembling. “Is that the symbol worn by the man who killed Grandpa? That thistle?” she whispered in her heart. She tried to dig deeper into the memory, but failed. The recollection blurred again.

“Miss Austen, are you listening to me?” Christian’s low voice made her blink. “What are you looking at?” he asked, one eyebrow raised.

Ariana jolted and quickly lowered her head. An inexplicable fear made her restless. She shook her head hard. Still, the cold sweat forming on her face did not escape Christian’s dangerous eyes. “Nothing, Mr. Matheus. I’m just… too happy,” she said hoarsely. That was not entirely a lie. “I promise I will protect your child.”

“Finish your bussiness today. Lorne will go with you,” he said coldly. He reached out, gripping Ariana’s chin and forcing her pale face upward. “Don’t even think about running, until you die.”

Ariana struggled, her brows knitting in confusion at his words. “What do you mean, Mr. Matheus?”