Forbidden Allure

Chapter 1

“Get rid of the groom,” Aleah muttered to herself in the dark of the night. “There won’t be a wedding if there is no groom.”

A soft breeze blew over her, cooling the sheen of nervous sweat covering her forehead and upper lip. Trying to regain some calm, she shook and attempted to loosen the stiff muscles in her arms at her sides. The fingers of her free left hand flexed. But her right hand tightened around the revolver she held.

The gray metal of the Smith & Wesson magnum with a black grip probably weighed less than two kilos but in her hand, it felt like a massive two-tonne block of concrete about to break her wrist and take her down with it. Or maybe that was her conscious trying to stop her before she did something stupid.

The pressure in her chest felt just as heavy. “Damn it!” Aleah hissed and tried to draw a deep breath to calm her nerves. Coming here had been an impulsive move on her part, but she felt like she had no other choice. It was either she got rid of her husband-to-be, or she watched her entire life and all her dreams flushed down the drain by greedy old men.

She still couldn’t believe it. Hell, she hadn’t seen it coming. But her grandfather’s words still echoed in her head. “I know what’s best for you and marrying Logan Poverly is the best direction for your life. You are young and it’s time to shape your future.”

Young? Aleah had nearly burst out laughing at how simply her grandfather had stated the sentence. Aleah was eighteen, and she had just completed high school. Her grandfather, Charles Nkhata, had been right about it being time to shape her life. But she hadn’t envisioned marriage to a man she didn’t know in that equation.

Aleah had dreams. She wanted to go to university. Even though the only reason she had made it through high school was thanks to an unexpected scholarship, she still could dream. And her dream involved studying medicine. She couldn’t do that if she was married to some wealthy playboy.

Damn it! Aleah closed her eyes and resisted the urge to scream her frustration and anger at the stars above her. As though the idea of marriage at eighteen against her will wasn’t bad enough, of all the men her grandfather could have picked, Aleah couldn’t believe he had chosen Logan as a husband for her. How did he even know Logan Poverly? Aleah wondered in frustration.

Her family was nothing more than ordinary. Just her struggling mother trying to keep their heads above the flooding stress of bills after the death of her husband four years ago. Charles had lived with them ever since the death of his only son, and although Aleah thought her grandfather’s presence added to the stress, she never voiced her thoughts. But now she wished she had. Maybe if he hadn’t been around, he wouldn’t have concocted the plan to marry her off like a cow on market day.

Aleah took another deep breath, held it for a few seconds, and then released it. She shifted on her feet with unease, her Chelsea boots crunching the gravel she stood on. They were her favorite pair, even though she’d bought them at a thrift store. They certainly blended well with the black jeans and black hoodie she had on.

With the gun in her hand, Aleah looked like a burglar standing in the shadows outside the Poverly mansion. If anyone caught her, the marriage would definitely be off because she was certain she would be thrown into a prison cell and never released. Hell, if she went through with her plan and got caught, that was exactly what would happen.

She frowned and looked down at the revolver glowing in the dim moonlight. It was her late father’s, and she doubted anyone knew she had been holding on to it since his death.

Tom Nkhata had always kept the gun hidden. For good reason, since it was a deadly weapon. But at age fourteen and missing her father like she would miss a vital organ in her body, Aleah had hidden in the wardrobe behind her father’s clothes to cry. That’s how she found it. She wasn’t even sure why she had taken it. But after her conversation with her grandfather at dinner, Aleah had found her fingers wrapped around the cold, heavy metal and a decision forming in her head. Logan had to die so she could have a life.

Part of her was convinced she was doing the world a favor by doing this. The city was large, but even with a population of almost a million, some stories just got around and Logan Poverly’s story had definitely gotten around like wildfire.

Even though the police had given a press briefing that there was no evidence to support the allegations, everyone still whispered about the girl who had fallen for the rich playboy, announced she was pregnant, and then disappeared like a puff of smoke in the wind. Aleah shuddered at the thought of her life being bound to a man who could be a murderer.

“I have to do this,” she whispered, firming her shoulders.

Her mother always said that sometimes, strength was just putting one foot in front of the other, even when your heart felt heavy. Sure, Lauren Nkhata probably meant it in another context, but Aleah was going to apply it here. And so she did.

It took her almost half an hour to creep over the fence surrounding the property. It helped that the bottom half was built from blocks while the top half was all wrought iron. Still, Aleah’s arms and legs ached and trembled by the time she stood on the other side. Her heart pumped hard with anxiety despite her determination.

She had watched the property long enough to know that there weren’t any dogs and the only guard was posted at the front gate. It seemed the Poverlys didn’t believe they needed heavy security to protect their wealth. They were either arrogant enough to believe no one would dare steal from them, or they knew they could replace anything and didn’t care. Aleah didn’t know which option applied here. And frankly, she didn’t care.

It was just past midnight. Her heart continued to pound hard enough in her chest to drown out any sound of nocturnal insects hidden in the trees and bushes she used for cover as she drew closer to the large mansion.

Truth be told, she hadn’t really thought the plan through. She had never been to the Poverly house, and she wasn’t even certain Logan was home, let alone which room was his. She only knew from the social media post she had read that Logan’s parents were still abroad on a boat cruise, celebrating the mother’s birthday and flying back in tomorrow morning, which meant their son had to be home alone. If he was home.

Still, that still meant finding the man in a large mansion she was unfamiliar with. Common sense stated that she turned around and headed back home. But she kept hearing her grandfather’s words echo in her head, each syllable like a steel cuff wrapping around her limbs until she was a prisoner to an unwanted fate. She couldn’t let that happen.

Exactly fifteen minutes later, Aleah concluded that rich people were stupid when she found the back door unlocked. Who the hell left a door unlocked in the middle of the night? Hell, in the neighborhood she came from, they didn’t leave the door unlocked in the middle of the day. Still, shrugging at another person’s stupidity making her task easier, she opened the door wide enough to squeeze through and entered the house.

As soon as she stepped into what she realized was a laundry room, the smell of lemon and bleach filled her nose. The room was as big as her bedroom. Which wasn’t saying much since her room barely accommodated the simple single bed and small desk by the window.

Ignoring the sink that looked big enough to bathe a pony, Aleah squinted at the washing machine and dryer bathed in a soft glow that slipped into the room from the cracked door leading further into the house. They looked nothing like the simple machines she had seen at her friend’s house. There were so many buttons on their surfaces she wondered if someone needed a Ph.D. to operate them. It was ridiculous. Everything about these people was ridiculous.

The rest of the gigantic house had her thinking the same thing. What little she saw from the few lights that had been left on looked either unnecessarily complicated and expensive or just absurd. Including the artwork hanging on the walls. But then she quickly reminded herself she wasn’t there to critique the design taste of the Poverly family. She was there to make sure Logan wasn’t alive long enough to ruin her life.

She found the bedrooms on the second floor. Creeping through the shadows of the hallway and pressing her ear to each door before she opened it took forever to find the man and soon Aleah began to think she had assumed wrong and he wasn’t home.

She was just about to turn around and abandon the crazy plan when she heard a soft but distinct thump. It sounded like something falling to the carpeted floor. Aleah froze. The sound had come from further down the hallway, two doors from the one she had just opened, and been met with yet again another empty room which looked like a guest room from how impersonal it looked with nothing more than the basic bedroom furniture gleaming in the moonlight coming in from the curtains that hadn’t been closed.

A wave of apprehension hit her as she softly closed the door she had opened and tiptoed to the last door. Her fingers tightened around the revolver and her breath came out in fast, shallow pants. Dark spots began to dance in her vision and she realized she might pass out right there in the middle of the Poverly hallway if she didn’t calm the hell down.

Aleah stopped and braced herself against the wall with her free hand. She could do this. She had to do this; she reminded herself. It was either she got rid of the groom or she found herself shackled to the playboy who could be a murderer. With every bone in her body, Aleah believed she deserved better. And she deserved to have the life she wished for. Not the one forced on her by a pair of greedy old men.

Feeling slightly calmer and more determined than a minute before, Aleah finally opened the door and stepped into the last room.

Aleah immediately knew she had struck gold. Unlike the other rooms she had been checking on this side of the house, this room was large. Almost as large as the apartment she shared with her mother and grandfather. It had a wall of glass, which made the room easy to see despite the lights being off. No impersonal scent of laundry detergent and air freshener saturated the air. In its place was the musk of a man and what smelled like expensive cologne, along with the stench of alcohol.

The room also had the feel of being lived in, with shoes and clothes thrown around the small sitting area and around the massive bed at the center. And in that bed lay the man she had been searching for.

Her breath caught in her throat. She could see his profile from where his face was half buried in the mountain of pillows facing the moonlight. After almost an hour of studying that face on the internet, she was certain it was him. The man on the bed had the same sharp nose and hard chin. With this half of his face visible in the light, Aleah saw the dark birthmark Logan Poverly was known for on his left temple. It was a big thing, almost the size of a grown man’s thumb. There was no way to miss it. And the fact that the room smelled like a brewery just confirmed it further for her. She had found Logan, her husband-to-be.

It was obvious that the man was living up to his reputation. He was drunk and dead to the world. Right on cue, a loud snore pierced the silence. Then Logan shifted onto his back and sprawled himself like a starfish across his bed.

The man had removed most of his clothes before collapsing into an alcohol-induced deep sleep. Which explained the clothes on the floor. But thankfully, he still had on his briefs. He wasn’t bad-looking. Actually, Aleah conceded that Logan Poverly was actually handsome in an overly clean and rich kind of way. He also had a nice physique. Lean and toned like a swimmer. But all that didn’t matter.

However, Aleah still hesitated before taking a step toward the bed. Finding him in this state should have made things easier for her, but it didn’t. She was trying to save her life, but she couldn’t bring herself to make the irrevocable step. All the practice shooting her father had taught her flew out of her head, and suddenly, Aleah didn’t even know how to hold the damn thing.

Trying to draw a deep breath and reanalyze her plan, Aleah stared down at the man at her mercy for now. Her finger brushed lightly over the trigger. Could she do it? Could she kill him and sneak back out into the night and pretend she had never been here? Did she have the guts to claim back her future? Because that was what was at stake.

Before the answer to those questions could even form in her mind and settle, Aleah suddenly found herself grabbed from behind. A firm hand closed around her mouth, preventing her from screaming, while the other wrapped around her wrist and squeezed tight until it hurt enough for her hold on the revolver to loosen. And then the gun was gone and Aleah was being dragged out of the bedroom by an unknown person.