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I saw the muscles in Harris’s jaw tighten and his eyes narrow as he glared at Dominic. For a moment, I thought he might’ve thrown a punch, but then a cruel smile split his face.

“Fine,” he spat, his gaze slithering back to me. “But don’t count on that marriage contract of yours going through, baby girl. Things aren’t as settled as Daddy Dearest would have you believe.”

My heart lurched in my chest. How the hell does he fucking know about that? The contract was supposed to be top secret, known only to a select few.

I whipped my head around, fixing Harris with a steely glare. “Tell me what you know about the contract,” I demanded, although my voice was barely above a whisper.

He smirked, clearly savoring the moment when he realized he had one up on me. “More than you, apparently.”

My impending marriage to Rivera was supposed to be a union to end the bloodshed between our families over territory in the South and Midwest and product and solidify our power. If that fell through . . .

“You’re bluffing,” I said with a scoff, but there was a tremor I couldn’t quite hide.

Harris leaned in, his breath hot on my ear. “Am I? You might want to ask your father about his recent negotiations, baby girl. Things aren’t looking too good for the blushing bride-to-be.”

I pulled back, my heart pounding. Is it possible? Has something changed without my knowledge? The uncertainty gnawed at my gut, threatening to shatter the carefully constructed facade of control I’d maintained all evening.

“You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about,” I hissed, but even to my own ears, the words lacked conviction.

Harris’s arrogant smirk widened, and there was a predatory glint in his eyes. “Oh, Demi, always so feisty. It’s what I love about you. Well, that and—” He paused, reaching out to touch my arm.

Before he made contact, Dominic’s hand shot out, grabbing Harris by the throat. My loyal cousin’s face was a mask of cold fury as he lifted my ex off his feet.

“She told you to leave, mothafucka” Dominic growled, his grip tightening with every word.

Harris’s eyes bulged, his mahogany brown face turning an alarming shade of dark blue. Part of me wanted to let it continue, to watch him suffer for his arrogance and the pain he’d caused me. But I knew better. We couldn’t afford a scene, not here, not now.

“Dominic,” I muttered, placing a hand on his arm. “That’s enough.”

As if on cue, two of our security personnel appeared, their presence commanding instant attention. Dominic released Harris, who crumpled to the floor like a foldable chair, gasping for air.

“Escort this leech out and put him on the blacklist,” I ordered, despite the turmoil bouncing around inside me. “His ass is no longer welcome here.”

The guards nodded, dragging Harris to his feet. As they marched him away, he managed to rasp out, “This ain’t over, Demi. You’ll see!”

I turned back to the poker table, forcing a likeness of a smile onto my face as the men returned with drinks in hand. “Gentlemen, my apologies for the interruption. Shall we continue?”

The game resumed, but my mind was clearly elsewhere. What if Harris wasn’t bluffing? What if the marriage contract really was in jeopardy? I played mechanically, my usual sharp instincts dulled by worry.

After winning another hand—more due to my opponents’ incompetence than my own skill—I decided it was time to make my exit. “Thank you for a delightful evening, gentlemen,” I declared while rising from the table. “But I'm afraid I must retire for the night.”

As Dominic and I made our way through the opulent club, the weight of Harris’s words pressed down on me. I glanced at my bodyguard, noting the tightness around his eyes. “D . . . you don’t think there’s any truth to what Harris’ lying ass was saying, do you?”

Dominic shook his head, his expression grim. “Nah. I doubt it, Demi. That nigga Harris has always been more mouth than brains. You know that. He’s probably just trying to get under your skin so you’ll go back to chasing behind his pansy ass.”

I nodded, but the knot in my stomach didn’t loosen. “You haven’t heard anything? About the contract, I mean?”

“No, not a thing,” Dominic replied, his tone careful. “But if there was any change, I’m sure Unc would inform you directly.”

I chiseled a smile into my features, but inside, doubt chewed away at me. My father had kept things from me before, always under the guise of protection. What if he was doing it again? What if everything I thought I knew about my future was about to come crashing down around me?

Dominic’s hand rested lightly on my back as he guided me to the waiting car, its sleek black exterior gleaming under the streetlights. He opened the rear door, and I slid onto the plush leather seat, the familiar scent of polished wood and new car enveloping me.

“Thank you, D,” I murmured, my mind already racing ahead to the conversation I needed to have with my father.

As Dominic shut the door and made his way to the driver’s seat, I pulled out my phone. My thumb hovered over my father’s contact for a moment before I hit call. The car purred to life as we pulled away from the curb, the city lights blurring past the tinted windows.

One ring. Two. On the third, my father’s gruff voice filled the line. “Demi. What is it?”

I took a deep breath, bracing myself. “Daddy, we need to talk. Harris showed up at the club tonight spouting off about the marriage contract. Talkin’ shit and said it wasn’t going through. How did he even find out about my engagement? What’s going on?”

There was a pause, and it told me everything I needed to know. When my father finally spoke, his tone was carefully controlled. “Ah, Demi. I was going to tell you tomorrow. The contract . . . it’s off. I’m looking at new prospects for you as we speak.”

What in the actual fuck is going on?

My brows knitted together. “What? Tomorrow? The announcement of our engagement and the alliance between our families was supposed to happen tomorrow! Why did you cancel it? What happened?” I quizzed as my mind whirled with possibilities, each more alarming than the last.

“It’s complicated, love. Nothing for you to worry about. We’ll discuss it when you come over tomorrow.”

I gripped the phone tighter, frustration bubbling up inside me. “Daddy, I’m not a child. If something’s going on, I deserve to know. This is my life too! How could you let Harris find out before me?”

“Not now, Demi,” he said sternly, his tone a warning. “I’m on my way to the club. We’ll talk later.”

The line went dead, leaving me staring at my phone in disbelief. The marriage to Ozias ‘El Diablo’ Rivera was supposed to be a done deal, a strategic alliance to secure our family’s position. For it to fall through now . . .

I leaned back against the seat, my mind racing. Something big must’ve happened, something that had my father willing to risk the wrath of the Mexican cartel. But what?

Later that evening, I sat on my bed draped in lavish linens with my new emerald dress carefully hung on a felt hanger outside of my walk-in closet that rivaled any runway it-girl or fashionista.

The phone call with my father and his unexpected news still echoed in my mind.

He’d just severed the marriage contract, which should’ve filled me with nothing but relief.

Instead, it occupied me with a new sense of dread—knowing my father would soon try to arrange another marriage, possibly with someone even older and potentially more problematic.

Feeling distressed, I called Samara over to my apartment to vent about everything that happened at the club with Harris and the upsetting phone call with my father.

As soon as she arrived, she crashed down beside me on my oversized, L-shaped couch in the open-concept living area that flowed seamlessly into the kitchen, ready to lend a listening ear.

She looked at me with her bottom lip poked out. “You poor thing. How are you holding up, Demi?”

My shoulders rose and fell. “To be honest, I don’t know. I thought I’d be relieved about this, but now I’m even more anxious. What if my father tries to marry me off to someone worse? Someone old, wrinkly, and more dangerous? What am I going to do?” I questioned while nervously wringing my hands.

I was so anxious that I couldn’t sit still. I started pacing the floor, walking from the couch over to the floor-to-ceiling windows in my apartment that showcased the stunning views of the city’s skyline and Lake Michigan.

“You’re going to keep your head up. I get this is a lot to take in for anybody, but you need to remember who you are.

Just like you said in the dress shop, you’re motherfucking Demi Malone, bitch.

You better poke out your chest and act like it!

Like I told you earlier, you’re not alone in this. We’ll figure something out.”

“How? We don’t have any more time, Demi. The man was supposed to be leaving Mexico to come here tomorrow and stay until the wedding, and then we were going to go back together.”

At a loss for words, Samara sighed. “I’m sorry, Demi. I wish I had better things to say to keep your spirits up.”

“I know you do. I just feel so trapped. It’s like, every time I think I see a fucking way out of this dark ass tunnel, there’s always another dead end. How am I ever supposed to find what makes me happy and what I want to do with my life if I’m always underneath a man’s thumb?”

“It’s okay to feel frustrated and unsure given the circumstances.

It’s fucked up, period. But you’re one of the strongest people I know, Demi—a lot stronger than you can even appreciate right now.

We need to start thinking about what you really want and how we can make that happen for you.

Maybe now is the time to have a serious heart-to-heart with your father about your future and what you want to get out of it. You deserve to be happy and free.”

I nodded slowly, letting her words sink in. “You’re so fucking right, Mara. I need to take control of my own life. I can’t keep letting decisions be made for me anymore.”

“Fuck it, come with me tomorrow,” Samara suggested.

My brows dipped low. “Come with you where?”

She smacked her full lips together. “Remember I told you about my cousin’s wedding a few months back when I got the invitation?

It’s a destination wedding in Cancun. She gave me a plus one, so now I’m inviting you!

My flight leaves tomorrow afternoon. It’ll take your mind off things and let shit cool down between you and your father. ”

A getaway does sound nice right about now.

I sighed. “Okay. I like that idea. I’m down and could use the change of scenery. I’m meeting with my father in the morning, but I should be good for the rest of the day.”

“Eek!” Samara squealed with excitement. “This is gonna be the best weekend ever!”

My chest inflated with a deep breath, feeling a renewed sense of excitement.

My future was uncertain, but with an impending getaway to Mexico right in the midst of my world being rocked, I felt like it could be the silver lining I never knew I needed.

For the first time, I felt like I had a say in my own future, and I was ready to live it up, one tequila shot at a time.