Scorned Vows: An Arranged Marriage Romance (Scorned Fate)

I sat beside the man who seemed to be the boss of everyone. Another one of their crew was driving while MM was beside the driver of the blacked-out Escalade. All throughout the craziness, none of them had revealed each other’s name.

“Stop chewing your nails,” the boss said. “You never used to do that.”

“You seem to know me well.” I clasped my hands between my knees. “Why don’t you tell me why you’re going through so much trouble to get me back?”

In the Escalade’s darkness, his eyes scorched my cheeks. He was studying my features intently. Back in Brad’s apartment, when this man hauled me against him, my body reacted. Not sexual or emotional, but something visceral I couldn’t quite put my finger on. “I think you know me. I think you’re the clue to my past.”

“No shit.” He chuckled without humor.

“So why taunt me when you can put me out of my misery?” I was hooking my star to a stranger, desperate to end two years of missing memories. “I don’t even know how old I really am.” My voice cracked into a broken whisper. “I don’t—”

“Twenty-five.”

“And how—”

“I won’t say any more until I’ve talked to the doctor.” He turned his attention to his phone for a while. It didn’t take a genius to know what he was reading.

But I was getting antsy. The Escalade went on the interstate and it felt like we’d been driving for a while in the opposite direction from Grafton. “What’s your name?”

“That’s enough.” He slipped his phone into his pocket before leaning against the window and resting his jaw on his fist as though he was contemplating something troubling. “Don’t ask me any more…Na…Rayne. I don’t want to force-feed you information. It’s not good.”

“You shouldn’t believe everything you read on the internet.”

“Better safe than sorry,” he clipped. “If you really have amnesia, then we’ll talk to this Doctor Gleason.”

“Seems he used to be the chief attending for neurology at Chicago Medical,” MM said. “Interesting he decided to retire in this small town and switch to family practice.”

“We could retire him sooner,” the boss said without missing a beat.

“Please don’t hurt him. He helped me when I had no one.”

I heard the growl before I was yanked into his arms and his mouth came crashing down on mine. His kiss was fire, his tongue demanding, and I opened beneath him. My body responded to the familiarity of his embrace. I was desperate to seek more. Each pull of his mouth and plundering of his tongue was going to unlock the shadows of my past. But at the first sign of arousal between my legs, my mind recoiled, and I blanched.

I struggled.

He broke the kiss, but not the embrace. “Since the first time I saw you, I wanted to do that.” His breath made me shiver. It was as if his presence awakened that sensation that was missing since my amnesia.

“I know you,” I said with certainty. I wedged my arms between us and pushed. “I know you, but inside me…” My words caught in my throat. “I don’t want to remember.” As desperate as I was for a trigger to my memories, the kiss only unearthed a heartache I couldn’t understand.

He cursed and let me go. “Don’t say that.”

“Because what if the reason my mind refused to remember was because you’ve hurt me terribly, the pain was more than I could bear and I blanked it out.” What if it wasn’t retrograde amnesia I had but dissociative? Doc Gleason considered that possibility.

He looked out the window again. “I never hit you. It wasn’t me.”

He couldn’t look at me, and I couldn’t look away from him. “What if it wasn’t physical?” My voice was monotone. “When I kissed you, it felt…I don’t know how to describe it. It was as if you breathed heartache into me. You’ve hurt me somehow.”

“Don’t jump to conclusions.”

He didn’t deny it.

He fixed his collar and settled back in the leather seats, giving the abandoned structures outside his attention. “Stop speculating before you paint me as a mass murderer.”

Interesting choice of words, but I’d already known for a fact that the man beside me was dangerous. My head pounded. I recognized the beginnings of a migraine I hadn’t had in a long time.

“Does your head hurt?” MM asked. “Your memory might be coming back.”

“Oh my God, stop getting your information from the internet. No, I don’t suddenly have a headache and a flash of memory.”

We turned from the state route and exited to one that was surrounded by barren land. Like it’d been an industrial place at one time. “How do you even know this place?”

No one answered me.

“If you’re going to kill me here,” I said quietly. “Please don’t hurt Brad or his business.”

“It’s not good to beg for the life of a man who kissed what’s mine.”

I jerked in his direction. “You’re saying you own me?” I swallowed. “Are you a pimp? A human trafficker. Oh my God, oh my God.” I hunched over. I was going to throw up. “Pull over.”

“Are you…”

“Pull over!” I shrieked.

The Escalade screeched to a shoulder. I stumbled out and retched on the side of a road. Did I escape traffickers? My mind raced with all possibilities. But he said I was a married woman. My head pounded. Too much processing. I was rejecting what my mind was trying to piece together. This was exactly what Dr. Gleason said I shouldn’t do. But deep down inside, I know this man held the answers to all my questions.

“Here.” A bottle of water appeared beside me and I gulped it down.

“You okay?” MM asked.

The boss was outside the vehicle, watching. His stance wasn’t unconcerned. I would even say it was wary. Even without seeing the expression on his face, I could tell that he was a coiled spring about to pounce.

No doubt we had a connection. Even MM treated me with familiarity.

We got back on the road and no one spoke as if a single word would spark an explosion in the charged atmosphere of the interior. Every single one of us was waiting for answers.

After five more minutes, we reached an abandoned warehouse. The boss got out first and then helped me down.

It was dark when we entered the structure, but a light shone in a corner. We came upon two men, leaning against a wall and Dr. Gleason sitting on the floor. Rechargeable lamps illuminated the area.

“Doc,” I cried and ran to his side.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

I nodded vigorously. “You?” I checked him for injuries.

“I’m fine.”

MM, the boss, and more of their goons surrounded us. I counted seven people total against Doc and me.

The boss asked his man, “Anything?”

“He said he’s bound by doctor-patient confidentiality,” the goon replied.

“Your man seems hesitant to torture old men like me,” Doc said. “I wonder if you have fewer scruples.”

The boss stared at Doc. “I wouldn’t test that theory.”

“He beat up Brad,” I shared.

“It was a fair fight.” The boss raised an arrogant brow at me, a hint of mockery lifted the corners of his mouth.

MM whispered in his ear, and he nodded, checking his watch. “We’re on the clock. I want everything on Rayne Parish that would help me care for her—”

“Care?” I laughed incredulously. “If punching me in the face is care, then I’d rather fight you on this.”

“I did not do those things to you!” He glared at Doc. “Speak.”

Doc Gleason glanced at me. “Rayne?”

I nodded. “He knows me. I’m sure.”

Doc’s mouth tightened before lifting his chin at the boss. “Rayne was dropped off at a St. Louis shelter for abused women and human trafficking…”

I watched MM’s and the boss’s faces closely for their reactions as the Doc detailed how he brought me back to this town. I was in a coma for a week before I woke up not knowing my name. Their expressions went from skeptical to downright scary, and the boss’s face simply shut off. It was hard to tell what he was thinking, but I was sure it was going in different directions.

After Doc finished talking, the boss’s eyes fell on me. “And you simply found your way around computers again?”

“Yes.”

“Interesting. So this man said that you were interfering with your boyfriend’s work as a bookie and that it was illegal.”

“You say it as if it isn’t true,” I said. “So why don’t you tell me the truth?”

“You’re not ready for the truth.”

“Oh, is this some kind of Colonel Jessup’s way of saying I can’t handle the truth?”

The boss laughed. A real laugh. And it amazed me how it changed his features into a man who I could be attracted to. Oh my God, no wonder Brad did nothing for me. It was because I was attracted to dark-haired men who were morally corrupt. The lure of the Dark Web made more sense.

“I’ve watched that one,” he said. “I didn’t think it was your type of film.”

“You know I like movies?”

He lost the amusement in his eyes. “I couldn’t live up to your expectations of romance heroes.”

“Romance heroes? I like fantasy, not necessarily romance, but I do like heroic behavior.”

“Oh, tesoro, I don’t know if that bump on your head changed your taste in movies.” He looked at Doc. “It could happen, right?”

“Personality changes? Yes, but her scans didn’t show any permanent damage to the frontal lobe.”

“You’ve done extensive scans on her brain?”

Doc didn’t say anything.

“How about the truth?” I said. “At least tell me my real name. Maybe that might trigger my memories.” That was a long shot. “I’m just tired of this limbo.”

“Natalya.” His roughened voice caught in his throat, like it was agony to say it. I approached him slowly. Intensity glittered in his dark eyes as if he was waiting for me to suddenly remember everything.

There was nothing. But my mind didn’t reject the name. “Natalya? I like it…it fits.”

MM asked beside me, “Anything?”

“It doesn’t work that way,” Doc Gleason scoffed. “Believe me, I’ve done extensive research on this. The mind and memories are a complicated network. They’re unpredictable. You can’t force someone to remember.”

“So you told us.” The boss’s words were like gravel. And his whole body was a powder keg. There seemed to be much more he wanted to say. I stepped to within an inch of him. Our bodies almost touching. The tip of my shoes meeting his. The room was just reduced to him and me.

“Tell me,” I said softly.

His throat showed rapid movement, like he was trying to swallow. “You weren’t a bookie’s girlfriend.”

Somehow, my mind had already accepted that I’d been living a lie. My whole body was lighting up with the first and significant truth that would clue me in to who I was before Rayne Parish.

His jaw clenched with determination.

“You’re my wife, Natalya.”

I saw the truth in his eyes, but an excruciating pain blasted through the chambers of my heart, a pitiful cry escaping my lips.

I will never love you.

The edges of my vision darkened, and then there was no more.

Luca

“Natalya!”

I caught her in my arms when her knees gave way. Then her eyes rolled back but not before slaying me with the anguish that flashed through them. The wounded sound that escaped her lips clawed at my chest. Did she remember something? What was it?

My questions stampeded on each other. Dario spread his jacket on the dusty cement flooring. I laid Natalya on top of it and leaned over her, glaring at the doctor. “What happened?”

“Obviously, the shock was too much for her.” The doctor winced, going to his knees. “I’m getting too old for this.”

He put his fingers on her pulse. “Her heartbeat is fine. See? She’s already coming around.”

Natalya’s lids fluttered. “What…?” Then, as if remembering something, she whispered, “Oh my God.”

She leaned on one side to get up.

“Is she okay to sit up?” I barked.

“I’m fine,” she responded too quickly for my liking.

“Does this happen often?” It was an exercise in patience not to be apprised of everything about her condition. I was worried. I was angry. I was everything I shouldn’t be feeling, because Natalya needed my reassurance.

“Once or twice?” She angled away from me toward the doctor, and I resisted the urge to pull her back. She should be turning to me.

“Did you remember something?”

She puffed a breath and shook her head but averted her gaze. Instead, she said, “I think I need to lie down.”

“Stubborn as ever.” I scooped her up, ignoring her protests, rose to my feet, and walked toward the exit.

“I live in—”

Impatience slowed my strides. “I know where you live, but you’re coming home with me.”

She started to struggle. “You can’t simply kidnap me!”

I lowered her to her feet but grabbed her biceps. “You are my wife. You are not spending another second away from me and—” I caught myself. I was about to say Elias.

“And? And what? Your arrogant ass?” she cried.

“Is she always this difficult?” I asked Dr. Gleason.

“Well, she is persistent.”

That was a rhetorical question, but whatever. “You’re coming with us too.”

The doc chuckled like I’d lost my mind. “I don’t think so.”

“I’m not giving you a choice either.”

He glanced at Natalya. “He is an arrogant ass.”

“I’m picking you up again. I’d prefer if you don’t struggle because the last thing I want is to drop you on your head, but then again, maybe that might jar your memory.”

“Asshole,” she muttered before putting her fingers against her temple.

“Is your head hurting?”

“If it’s hurting, it’s because you’re a steamrolling asshole who is forcing me into doing things I don’t want.”

My fists clenched at my sides. “Do you need a sedative for this trip?”

“Unbelievable.” She turned away from me and staggered to the entrance of the warehouse.

I followed closely, but when she nearly stumbled, I swooped her up in my arms again.

“You’re making me dizzy.”

“Stop fighting it. Close your eyes.”

It was as though the fight went out of her. “I’m so tired.”

“She’s having information overload,” the doctor said.

“You think telling her she’s my wife triggered something?” I had a feeling it did, but I was a coward to press her because she didn’t react favorably. She was hiding something.

Gleason didn’t immediately respond, but when he did, he said, “The brain is processing. Give her time.”

We came up on the Escalade. The doctor asked, “Who are you people?”

Before I could think of an answer, one of my men came to me. “Boss, Tony called. He had to jet from Bailey’s apartment.”

“Why?”

Natalya’s eyes popped open. “I’m never going to forgive you if you hurt Brad.”

“Seems the cops came around. He got out using a window.”

The woman in my arms gave a brief laugh. “Brad sent them the Maserati’s license plate.”

I tipped my chin for my soldier to open the door. “One thing we need to get squared away is your loyalties, tesoro.”

My eyes met Dario’s over the doctor’s shoulder. He gave a tight nod, which meant he took precautions and switched license plates. We did this whenever we went out of town. The plates would come up stolen.

“Doctor, you’ll ride with my friend.”

The old man seemed conflicted, but I bet he didn’t want to be separated from his most interesting patient.

“This is a small town, but I have patients.”

“You’ve taken vacations to Europe and gone to conferences. What do you do then?”

Dr. Gleason split a look between Dario and me, then stared at Natalya. She had her eyes closed, but I was sure she was still conscious to the surrounding conversation.

The doctor exhaled a resigned sigh. “I’ll make arrangements.”

“You shouldn’t let him trample over you too,” Natalya groaned.

The soldier, who informed me of Tony’s flight from the coffee house, came back and said, “Tony is behind the diner from lunch today. We sent a car for him. There’s an ambulance in front of the coffeeshop.”

“They’re going to check out Gleason’s house next.” That was the next logical choice. “We’re leaving.”

The Maserati followed the Escalade into our private airstrip near Grafton. The Cessna jet I used to fly down here sat in the hangar. Our pilot already had the plane warmed up and ready to go. The license plate would register to a stolen vehicle in Chicago that made it to one of our chop shops. Dario was monitoring local police channels and there was an APB for a dark blue Maserati with stolen plates. It would be stupid for Dario to drive back to Chicago with the doctor in it.

“Seriously, who are you people?” Gleason repeated his earlier question as he stared at the plane.

Natalya resisted my help to get out of the vehicle. In fact, she flat-out refused to get out of the SUV. “You can’t do this. Doc”—she looked remorsefully at Gleason—“I’m sorry my crap is affecting you.” Then back at me, she flung more accusations. “You’re destroying his practice.”

The doctor regarded me thoughtfully before returning his gaze to Natalya. “Somehow I think this isn’t new for these guys.” Then he asked me, “Where are we going? You should tell us that at least.”

“Chicago.”

“Fuck,” Gleason said. “No wonder you look familiar.”

“Familiar? Well, he still doesn’t look familiar to me,” Natalya retorted.

“Are you coming on your own, or do I have to sedate you?” I asked her.

She looked at the doc again. “Who is he?”

“You can call me Luca.” Fuck if I let someone else introduce me.

Natalya was trying to think too hard again. I could feel her eyes panicking when her gaze flew back to the doctor.

“Luca Moretti,” Doc Gleason said incredulously. “The Chicago mob.”

“Wh-what?” Even from her stubborn position inside the vehicle, she seemed to sway.

“Come on, Natalya.” That declaration of who I was seemed to have drained the fight out of her and I easily gathered her into my arms.

“I can’t get away, can I?” Her words walloped me with a guilt I tried to ignore.

I wanted her surrender, not her defeat. “I’m afraid not.”

“The don of the Chicago mob.” Gleason, for his part, seemed excited with the discovery. He turned to Dario. “And you are?”

I left my friend to explain.

Once we were in the air, the doctor seemed more cooperative. Even drank scotch with us. The configuration of the seating allowed for a face-to-face among four people. Natalya kept a protective arm around her body as she stuck to the window, staring into the darkness and ignoring the men. She shut down after she found out who I was. I didn’t think her memory had come back. She thought she was a bookie’s girlfriend. A far cry from a man in my position.

I quizzed Gleason on what to expect and how to care for my wife.

“I want fresh X-rays,” I told the doctor. “I have connections at a hospital.”

“To be honest, I’ve never dealt with long-term memory loss from trauma. Most of the time, my patients got their memories back in a few days. One patient lasted a few weeks. But the bulk of the memories came back all at once.”

“Will exposure to familiar surroundings help?”

“Oh, definitely…” Then the doctor punted. “Still unpredictable.”

I looked at Dario. “Have you informed the mansion’s staff?”

“Yes. Rocco said they’ve activated lockdown.”

“Lockdown?” Natalya finally gave us her attention. “Doc and I are going to be your prisoners?”

“I don’t know who did this to you,” I said. “It’s for your protection.”

“How sure are you I didn’t leave you on purpose?”

The fingers of my right hand dug into the seat’s leather arm. She just struck at the theory that brought me rage in the past two years. “You wouldn’t leave me because you were in love with me.” Plus, you wouldn’t leave Elias. How do I tell her we have a son?

She laughed derisively. “Right now, I hate you. I don’t want to go back with you.”

I blanched. She delivered those words with venom and they left no doubt her past feelings for me were gone. Yet here I was, still in love with her and not willing to let her go again. I chased the pain that punched in my chest with two fingers of scotch.

Dario stared at me like he didn’t know whether to laugh or be concerned for Natalya. Did he think I would hurt her? It was a miracle I managed to smile through all the fucked-up emotions she wrenched out of me. They were uncomfortable and unwelcome.

Even if I deserved them.

“You’ll realize you love me,” I told her. When her eyes narrowed at my confidence, I added, “And you’ll wonder what the fuss is all about.”

I waited with bated breath for her reply.

She was still staring at me and studying my face, after which she said, “Please tell me I wasn’t stupid enough to fall for your looks.”

“That was part of it, I presume.” I leaned into her conspiratorially. “You were infatuated. You were a virgin, and I was the first man who gave you the orgasms you deserved.”

She blushed and glanced away.

Ahh…there was my Natalya.

Dr. Gleason also found the window interesting, while Dario was choking on his drink.

“You’re impossible,” she muttered.

“I’m merely stating the facts. Why, in the last—” I cut myself off. I nearly said the last months of her pregnancy. “That’s why I wouldn’t believe that you would leave me willingly.”

“Why?” Her head swiveled back in my direction, face full of indignation. “Because I couldn’t get enough of your cock?”

I grinned. “Don’t forget my mouth.”

“Aaaallll right,” Dario interrupted. “Could we save the sexual history for later? That’s TMI.”

I stared at the doc. “What do you say, Gleason? You think sex would jolt her memory?”

She sputtered. “You’re the last man—”

“Don’t finish that sentence,” I cut in sharply. “Brad Bailey is lucky to escape with his life. I would have burned that cute little coffee shop of his to the ground.”

“You really would have shot him? Burned down his business?”

“He touched what’s mine,” I gritted.

“Get over yourself.”

Dario kicked my foot to remind me I had to tread carefully. It was unfair to level my self-righteousness at Natalya.

I had no qualms when it came to killing men who did the same illegal shit that I did, but I drew the line at killing innocent people unless I had no choice but to defend myself. If they tried to kill me, they ceased to be innocent. I had a very fine line. If Brad drew a gun on me, I would have shot him without question and had no problems sleeping at night. I always welcomed an alternative unless a person is beyond redemption and there was no choice but to put him down.

Realizing Natalya had amnesia reduced the acid that ate at my insides when I saw her kiss another man.

But the image was forever seared into my memory. My rage competed with an overwhelming urge to reclaim her. I’d caged the possessive beast inside me, but it was rattling the bars that were keeping me sane.

I clamped my mouth shut before I said anything stupid that would make her resist me.