Chapter 1
Mirah
I know why my father insisted I attend tonight and the very thought of that reason drives bile up my throat.
I peer over my right shoulder, as casually as I can manage, only for my gaze to clash with the watchful, narrowed eyes of one of my father's men. I wrench my head back around violently, almost giving myself whiplash. It would appear that as usual, father is leaving nothing to chance.
The foyer of my father's hotel is filling with people. Rich, pompous, arrogant individuals that believe themselves the echelon of New York society. As if conjured from my line of thought, a couple sails past me, the woman's long nightshade purple gown glittering with a scattering of diamonds. Just her garment alone could feed this city's homeless for ten years.
But that's not something that would concern these people. Oh no. What goes on down on the dirty streets never touches their world, and they would have it no other way.
I glance down at the pale cream gown that hugs my own slender figure, shame threatening to send a bloom of scarlet across my cheeks. Even my more simple dress is worth enough to make comfortable the lives of the less fortunate. I am saved from the depressing direction of my thoughts as I hear my name.
"Mirah!"
I jerk my head up as if caught doing something naughty only to find my best friend smiling wide as she approaches. Her curly chestnut hair bounces at her shoulders with each stride, cornflower blue eyes sparkling in the sharp light of the expensive chandeliers. Rebecca loves these types of gatherings and as usual, she does not disappoint. Tall and willowy, her slender form is encased in a lovely peach gown that clings possessively to her, her large bosom is also put well on display as the flesh threatens to spill over the low decolletage, causing an older gentlemen to choke on his champagne when his wife finds him ogling her chest. Risky. Racy. That is how Rebecca likes her life, especially her wardrobe.
"Becca!" I reply, as we wrap each other in a tight embrace. We have known each other since infancy, our families as close as non-relatives can possibly be. "You're late!" I whisper, narrowing my eyes at her playfully.
"Well, it is not my fault the new bodyguard my father has appointed me is so utterly delectable!" she says wickedly, her eyes darting to a man standing off to her left, the glance they share charged with sexual energy.
"Save me the details..." I say, taking her hand in mine. Rebecca has always been a sucker for a handsome man, and quick to seize the moment. I pull her in to the steady stream of people making their way to the ballroom where tonight's events would play out. "I hate these things...especially when my father has an agenda..."
Rebecca stops me, pinning me with those pretty blue eyes. She gathers both my hands in hers. "Calm down, how bad can marrying Jason Marathon really be? The man's a dreamboat! You should be happy...most of the women in New York would kill to be his bride. I mean, I know his reputation with women is not the best thing about him, but you know, men can change."
I shake my head. "You know why Rebecca, I don't belong in this world...all I want is to paint, and please, Jason Marathon, change?"
"Hush now..." she says as one of my father's men moves past us, "you don't want them overhearing you say something like that. Your father and Mr. Marathon senior have already signed the contract. I'm afraid you have no choice or risk ruining your father's business plans...or him ruining your future. At least you already have your Art History degree, else he'd stop that the instant you say something bad about the Marathons."
Sympathy shines bright in her eyes. She knows that all I want to do is wile my time away in my studio, painting all day long. But escape from my father's plans for me is useless. "I know Becca..."
"Come now, cheer up, perhaps Jason will allow you to paint after you are married. Besides, whatever happens, I will always be here for you Mir, OK? I know this is not what you want, and I hate seeing you so torn up about it, but unless you are getting abducted by aliens, I am afraid you are not getting out of this marriage."
I laugh softly, "Know any trustworthy aliens?"
We both burst out laughing, drawing a few curious and some disapproving glances from those around us. The lady whose husband had been salivating over Becca's chest earlier makes a loud 'Hmph' sound as she sticks her nose in the air, dragging her husband away behind her, the poor man fighting to keep his champagne flute from spilling.
"Please proceed to the ballroom Ladies and Gentlemen, Mr. Harlon looks forward to starting the evening's proceedings." A man announces, standing tall, a fixed, unemotional expression on his face. One of my father's minions. No doubt he would be watching to make sure I move along with everyone else. And just as I thought, he follows a few feet behind Rebecca and I until I am seated at the main table where my father waits. Rebecca is sitting at a table nearby, among her family. She casts me a warm, sisterly smile and I feel a small blossom of courage. I will be OK. Whatever happens, I will be OK.
Soon, the low hum of voices begins to die down as people settle at their tables and my father rises from his seat. He proceeds with a witty welcome to all who has deigned to grace us with their presence and it is all I can do not to roll my eyes. I really don't understand why my father insists on buttering these people up. He is just as rich if not richer than them. The only exception being the Marathons.
Bored with the words I have heard so very often, I divert my gaze to the tall ceiling, beautifully painted as a bright blue sky with two angels sitting on a pedestal of clouds. They are reaching out to each other, their hands just shy of touching. Its a simple, yet moving scene and the emotion in it brings a tear to my eye. This is what painting is about...capturing emotions...moments in time, making people feel..
I shake my head imperceptibly as my father continues to speak, his face animated as he now ascends the stage where a large screen perches behind and above. I know what he will shortly unveil and the announcement he will make after...the price of securing his dreams...his daughter's happiness.
I dig my fingers into the edges of my seat, fighting the tears that are bubbling forward. It will not do to breakdown before all these people. They will not understand my unwillingness to give away my freedom...my happiness...for my family's prosperity. To them, their children are only tools. Tools to secure the next great deal, to solidify their standing in a world where one can so easily be toppled.
"...this project will usher in a new era of elite care and hospitalization for those who can afford it. No waiting lists for complicated procedures, access to incredible doctors at the drop of a hat, exclusive access to some of modern medicine's most revolutionary medications and procedures! The Golden Arrow Medical Complex will be our playground, to improve and explore our health. From cosmetic purposes to serious ailments...only the highest of society will be able to attend this prestigious medical institution."
Applause erupts around me like thunder, most people clearly pleased at my father's news. A hospital that caters only to the rich. Stealing brilliant doctors and denying access to them for the general public. It seems a little shameless to me. A little lots.
Again I am reminded why I hate the circles I am forced to move in. These people believe their fortunes give them the right to take whatever they want, to buy any congressman they please, to deny the common people that which they believe they do not deserve simply because they are poor. It makes me sick.
"This project is not only mine dear friends," my father begins, his eyes seeking me out from where he has positioned himself on stage. "Robert Marathon of Marathon Logistics and his son has been instrumental in securing necessary licenses and providing additional funds. Of course, such a large project can only bring people closer and as such I am most pleased to announce that my daughter, Mirah, and Robert's son, Jason, have fallen in love."
Love? Frantically I look back to where Rebecca sits frozen in place, a look of shock on her face. I am sure mine reflects that same emotion. Such a blatant lie! I hardly know Jason! But I know better than to refute my father's words here in front of his peers, he would never forgive me and possibly cause me even more strife. Not that anything could be worse than having to pretend that I am in love with a man I have only met twice!
"Please join me on stage Robert, Jason and my beautiful Mirah..."
I want to vomit at my father's pretentious words, but instead, I force myself to my feet, plastering a smile so fake on my face that my cheeks begin to ache. I sidle out of my chair, making sure to nod politely to those who make eye contact, hoping that they do not see through this mask I have retreated into.
I try hard to appear pleased as I make my way to the stage and catch a glimpse of Jason who already stands beside his and my father. His face beams happiness as if he had just been blessed with immortality.
My step falters slightly, but I am quick to catch myself, apologizing softly to the woman whose chair I had nudged. If Jason Marathon is this good at pretending love...he must be a swindler of note.
A loud shattering of glass erupts from somewhere above just as I am about to place my foot on the first step to the stage. I jerk my head up as four shapes descend rapidly from the ceiling above. Glass showers over the guests and people scream as they leap to their feet, bounding for the exits.
The three men on stage have also taken action, Jason and his father are already hastening towards an exit and my father has reached for his phone just as private security spills into the ballroom, guns drawn.
I can't see Rebecca, but take comfort in the fact that her brother has most likely dragged her to safety. At least her family truly loves her, they will not allow her to come to harm.
I turn my eyes back to the four figures dressed in black, like ninjas in those terrible movies. They are big, clearly male. The lights fail, drenching the room in darkness as an eerie silence descends like a cloak, coating everything around me. Its as if the room itself is holding its breath.
I feel a sense of fear and helplessness as I reach my hands out for anything. Finally, I find something to grab...soft...like fabric. I swallow as I curl my fingers into it, gasping as the warmth of flesh grazes my knuckles.
I leap back, straight into another wall of flesh. Arms wrap around me and something is shoved over my head. My arms are wrenched painfully back and secured with rough rope.
I don't have time to fully realize what is happening but I struggle anyway, kicking and screaming through the thing on my head as loudly as I can.
I am pulled roughly against my captor and a sharp clipping sound rings in my ears before we launch upwards, the sudden rush of air like a punch in the gut. A loud whirring sound is now all I can hear, beside the painful pounding of my heart, as I assume we are pulled up toward the hole in the roof by some kind of pulley system.
When the whirring stops, I am unclipped and roughly passed to another hard chest. The night air is chilly, but soothing against my heated skin. Adrenaline pounds through my ears and I fight this new assailant, kicking and even trying to bite through the covering over my head.
"Keep her still damn it..." a rough voice growls.
"She's a fighter this one...this is going to be a whole world of fun..."
"Don't fuckin' touch her until we hear what the boss wants to do with her. Get ready, the chopper's on the way."
The sound of an approaching helicopter sends a new kind of fear slithering down my spine. If they take me away...how will my father ever find me? "No! Please, just let me go!" I cry, but am met with only the sounds of bags being zipped shut and what I suppose is gear being readied for departure. "Why are you doing this? Please, my father will pay you more than what you have already been promised!"
These words have some effect, but only for a short moment before laughter erupts around me. "I sincerely doubt it princess." This is the only response I receive as I am roughly tossed over a steely shoulder and carried towards the deafening sound of spinning helicopter blades.
