A Marriage of Convenience

Chapter 3: Liam

"Honey, come home. You have no right to walk awa—"

I end the call right before the passengers in the row in front of me scramble to get their s**t in the overhead bins.

My stupid mistake is to think anyone in my family would call to ask if I had landed safely after a five-hour flight. But then again, I wished for normalcy once in my entire life and even the white-bearded man didn't think it was a proper Christmas gift for a five-year-old child.

I shot my mom a short text telling her I'd call once I settled in. A little secret: that's code for f*****g never.

Ever since I broke the news to my father that I didn't want anything to do with him, my life has been a total shitstorm. Sons and daughters of my father's affiliates have been blowing up my phone trying to convince me to change my decision to live my life the way I wanted to live it. No doubt my dad had instructed them to.

Amid all the reporters and nosy mothers creating a big spectacle out of this, I felt strangely at peace.

I take my burner phone from my back pocket to contact my security team as soon as I'm off the plane. I wasn't stupid to travel more than a thousand miles with the knowledge I wasn't living off of my family's money anymore without a security detail. My family has made enemies out of civilized people, most of whom are knee-deep with the thought of revenge. That's what my mom was worried about most. Not the reason why I left.

I don't have to look too hard to spot my security.

While people hastily jog up to their loved ones with an emotion-filled reunion, I jadedly walked toward a bulky man wearing khakis and a tie-dye shirt holding up a paper with a fake name we had agreed upon three days prior to my scheduled take-off.

I told my parents of my decision two nights ago. A decision I've already reviewed for a hundredth time to ensure it go all go smoothly. I make one minor flaw and I might be throwing my family into the fire pit. Despite my deep-rooted hatred for my last name, I don't want them to perish because of the decision I made.

That's how it always was. Me being born into a legacy that is expected to behave a certain way. To become a certain way. I was living my life for the family and not for me.

I wanted to change that. Even if it meant news outlets calling me a traitorous deserter to my own family. It's been said enough times that I wonder if they are right. My family was still my family. And that's how it always was.

Nothing will come before the family name.

Half-way toward the head of my security team, a dolled-up woman almost landed face first on the tiled floor in front of me had she not been gripping her spinner luggage. Her eyeglasses fell to the floor and I picked it up without a second thought before handing it back to her.

She almost looked surprised, as if she was expecting I would have crushed it under my boot instead of going through the trouble of helping. She was small, petite, couldn't have been older than me.

I let out a tight-lipped smile at the same time she clutched her chest tightly. "Merci, monsieur. Vraiment."

A small bruise peeking out from her oversize summer hat and sunglasses caught my attention. Before I could get a closer look, she angled away from me, hiding it out of my sight. I take that as my cue not to pry.

"Pas de soucis ma chérie. Fais attention la prochaine fois," I responded before side-stepping out of her way.

I greeted Gaspar with my luggage in hand. He just stares at me as if he was piecing out the puzzle of who I was.

A minute or two of uncomfortable staring, his demeanor changed from a confused bouncer to an uncle who hadn't seen his nephew since he was shipped off to boarding school.

Because that's how it felt like as soon as he gave me a bone-crushing hug.

"My boy!" Gaspar cheered, showing a believable act of a father-son reunion. "Jesus, is this really you?"

"Yeah. A whole nineteen years' lot," I managed to blurt out amid his nearly crushing my windpipe.

He eased up and stepped back, taking in my whole figure. "I almost didn't recognize you. You look like a well-oiled machine, boy!"

"That's what the sun does to you, Uncle Gaspar. You should try it sometime." God knows the man could use a change of weather than what the Meridian skies are offering him.

He narrowed his eyes at me. "Oh, I get it. Russian boy has jokes now, has he?"

I clicked my tongue. "Pretty sure that was French," I say, referring to my encounter with the demure woman.

He waved a hand at my face and took the turn of lifting my luggage for me. "Yeah, yeah. I haven't seen you in twelve years and you've become a smartass."

"Haven't seen you for twelve years and you've become senile, old man."

Gaspar mumbles something incoherent under his breath and I let out a smile.

Gaspar Trenes used to be the head of my father's security team and his most loyal friend. After he retired, he moved back to Meridian City to spend time with his family before his eldest went off to college twelve years ago. That was the last time I ever saw him apart from special family occasions he would then pop by for a day or two in New York.

I didn't trust easily, so I had pulled him out of his retirement with a clear conscience to put together my own private security team while I stayed in Meridian City. He had no qualms about it and was cool with my decision to leave the family dynasty. Of course, I made him sign a contract that he would abstain from giving my parents or anyone outside my family reports about my life. As far as I'm concerned, no one knows I'm here except for my brothers. And I'd like to keep it that way.

Gaspar led the way toward where his rusty old green Honda that was parked on the side of the curb. A far cry from the Benz my father made him drive in.

"You traded up, I see."

"What? You don't like it?" he heaved as he dropped my bags on the gravel. He was old, but I'm slightly taken aback that he'd be winded so easily on such a short distant walk.

He popped the trunk and I helped him lift both my duffle bags onto the carpet.

"Didn't say that. Can't say I do, either."

Gaspar smiled with knowing. "Get used to it, bud. Now that you've renounced your daddy's money, a lavish lifestyle is a past commodity. Now, you're running on a wish-sandwich. Wait 'till you see the house. You're going to love it."

My shoulders sag a bit. I, in no way, favor convenience over necessity. It's just that, I grew up in a goldmine. I just have to get used to living on rocks first before I can say I was comfortable.

Although alone, I know Gaspar has men stationed around the airport in civilian clothing so as not to attract attention. Curious as I was, I looked around before Gaspar closed the trunk.

Almost immediately, I saw a familiar face.

I can't help a small smile etching across my face with knowing.

"Hey, Gaspar. Can we grab a coffee before we head to the house?"