Christmas with My Enemy (Feuding Hearts Christmas)

Chapter 3

three

TATI

My father’s hand connects with my face so fast I see stars. I grab my cheek and look up at him through unshed tears.

As a little girl, I believed my father was invincible. He was my Superman. My everything. But this man isn’t my father.

He’s a thug. A kingpin. Kingz .

Everyone around him will eventually die, just like Nate.

Nate used to shield me from my father. But I don’t have Nate anymore. I only have myself, and I’m getting the fuck out of here.

“ I hate you ,” I dodge past him and run upstairs to my bedroom.

I slam the door so hard the windows rattle and lean my back against the door, cupping my throbbing cheek.

I press my eyes shut, and when I open them, I stare at the chandelier above my bed.

I need to get out of this mess. I'm not my mother. I won't settle for this kind of life.

I walk over to my bed, sit on the edge, and pull my phone. Then, open the ChatterSpot app, and his message pops up.

DaBeast: How's hell today?"

I’ve complained daily, and now it’s a running joke. So now that I'm burning in hell, my response will be forthcoming.

"Honeybee, your fiancé will be here for dinner.”

Wait? What? I stop typing trying to make sense of her statement. I don’t have a fiancé.

“Your father had a Vera Wang gown commissioned. It's in your closet."

The massive room shrinks before me, and it feels like I'm in a box, suffocating.

There’s no way she said what I think I heard. So, I spring up, make three rapid steps to the door and pull it open. My parents are standing in front of me.

"What did you say?" My gaze flicks to my father. He’s the brains of this operation since my mother is a willing participant in his foolery.

My father smiles, and I swear I hear the gates of hell open wider. "Tonight, we’ll make your engagement official. William Jackson will join us for dinner. So behave and don’t embarrass us or fuck up this deal."

My eyes widen, and a frustrated chuckle jumps out of my mouth.

"You really are insane. I’m not marrying Stacks. I don’t love him. Hell, I don’t even like him. And the last time I checked, we only went out once. How did he become my fiancé?"

Dad cocks his head to the side. "Then, tonight will be the second date. And you don't have to love him now. Affections will come in time."

I look at my mother. “Mom, please–”

“It will work out. You’ll see.”

I turn my face to the ceiling, praying this is a fucking nightmare.

But when I look at my father, I know it’s real.

"Why are you so determined to ruin my life? You hover over me like a child, and now you’ve chosen my husband." My voice quivers, and I feel an overwhelming urge to cry.

"I know what's best to protect you. William Jackson is a feared man. He'll provide for and protect you, like your father." His tone is dry and stern, like I don’t have a choice.”

"No, Dad. I’m not part of some business deal. Like I’m fucking cattle. Find someone else to play this game."

"Oh, but you will. You’re getting married on Christmas day."

The word hit me like a bomb. Even though the weather is freezing inside and outside, sweats burns through my pours.

I want to protest, scream, and cry, but instead, I stumble back to my bed, unable to stand.

He looks at my Mom. "Phylicia, get her ready. I need to make some calls."

You're getting married by Christmas.

His words resonate in my head. It's like those medieval movies where a girl is forced to marry a stranger. I wish the ground would crack open and swallow me up.

My stomach clenches, and I feel sick.

Mother steps inside the room and shuts the door, wearing a gentle smile like everything is fine. I run to her and grab her hands. Maybe, now that we're alone, she'll see how fucked up the situation is. That’s the only plan I have for now.

"Please, Mom, he can’t do this. I can’t marry Stacks. Is this really what you see for my future? I don’t love him."

Love . It seems like I had all the time in the world to find love. But if my father has his way, I’ll be doomed to a life with the only man second to my father’s notoriety for guns, drugs, and mayhem.

"Your father means well, Tati.” She runs her palm on my face, shaking her head. "Maybe his manner of communication comes across harsh, but trust me he means well. He's got loads of enemies, and their eyes are on you. He can't trust you with anyone except William Jackson."

"Mamma, this is Stacks we’re talking about. You should just sell me to the highest bidder."

"You’re shocked and exaggerating. Just meet him for dinner and we’ll take it one day at a time." She frowns, inching near my closet.

Okay, now it’s clear no one’s listening to me. Next on my agenda is Plan B. And my Plan B is nothing !

Mother reveals a cream gown with a million tiny beads.

"What do you think?" She raises it for me to assess.

I force a smile. "Beautiful."

"Good. I'll leave you to freshen up and maybe take a nap to calm your nerves." She kisses me on the cheek. "You'll be fine."

I gave a sharp nod, pretending everything is fine.

As soon as she shuts the door, I collapse on the bed and scream, covering my head with the pillow. I don't have anywhere to go.

I could go to a hotel, but that’s not good enough. They’ll find me in no time.

I consider flying by to D.C., but I don’t want to put Jash and her future in danger.

I’m left with one person.

DaBeast!

As if waking up from a trance, I throw the pillow aside and jump up when the name pops up in my head. I pull out my phone and click open the ChatterSpot app icon. My eyes glance through his response to my previous message before I start typing a new message.

Beauti4U: Beast, I need your help.

I chew my nails, waiting for the typing bubbles to appear.

DaBeast: Shoot.

Beauti4U: I need to get away from here. Now!

DaBeast: Bet. But are you sure it won’t just blow over?

Beauti4U: Not this.

I catch a tear running down my cheek. It’s like I’m a possession and not their daughter. How fucked up is that?

DaBeast: Talk to me. What happened?

Beauti4U: My family wants to marry me off at Christmas. I've got nowhere to go. Can I stay over for a few days at your place?"

DaBeast: Yes. Send the address and I’ll come get you.

I shake my head as if he can see me.

Beauti4U: You can’t come here. Send the address and I’ll be there ASAP.

On one hand, DaBeast is a total stranger, since we’ve never met in person. But on the other hand, he knows almost everything about me except my name, and that I’m the daughter of Rodney “Kingz” Reynolds.

At this point, it is what it is. I have to leave before Stacks arrives. Honestly, I’m nervous, but I’m not turning back.

I change my gym clothes for jeans and an oversized pink sweater. To find a balance, I settle on the edge of the bed, slide my feet into a pair of boots, and spring up.

I press my lips together and push the window open. I used to keep a rope under my bed but my parents took it.

The guards only circle the back of the house hourly, so I gaze around the room, searching for something to get me down. My eyes dart to the dinner gown Mother laid out on the bed.

Perfect .

Fuming, I yank off the duvet and pull the sheet off, knotting it to the evening gown. It's impressive to know the dinner gown can do something other than making my life miserable.

I grip the makeshift rope tightly, my heart racing as the fabric digs into my palms. It’s a stupid idea, but desperation breeds creativity.

I lower myself slowly, inch by inch, the gown dragging against the edge of the window. The chill night air bites at my exposed skin. The temperature is dropping fast.

Every creak of the house makes my pulse quicken. I can’t let them hear me. I’m twenty-four, but here I am, acting like a kid sneaking out for the first time.

Shouldn’t I be beyond this?

I shake my head moving before I find myself married to Stacks.

I lower myself further, feeling the rough fabric stretch beneath me. My legs start to tremble with the strain, but I push through. I’m close. My heart pounds in my chest, like I’m about to dive into deep water.

I could get caught. I could fail. But I can’t think like that. This is my only choice.

Breath steady, I take one last look over my shoulder. The coast is clear. I’m almost there. The ground seems far away, but it's just a jump.

With a quick glance below, I let go. I hit the ground—hard but silent. A rush of relief floods through me as I fold into a crouch, the cold earth grounding me.

The thrill of freedom washes over me, and for a moment, I almost want to laugh. But I need to move. Fast .

Every second counts, and I can’t shake the feeling that my time is limited.

I round the back of the house praying nosy, Rosi isn't on patrol.