Chapter 4Bound To The Reckless Heir

I grabbed my bag and hurried after him, but Evelyn called out, "Breakfast first! What’s the rush?"

Nate didn't even slow down. He marched out the door, and I gave Evelyn a quick, apologetic smile before running to catch up.

His car was a low-slung, matte black sports car that looked like it belonged on a track. I went for the back seat, knowing he didn't want me near him, but the door wouldn't budge.

"Do I look like your Uber driver, Princess?" Nate’s voice was like a whip.

"Sorry. I... I didn't mean..."

I climbed into the passenger seat, and Nate took his revenge out on the gas pedal. He tore out of the driveway, the engine roaring. The world outside became a blur of speed and noise. I felt my stomach drop; I was terrified we were going to crash.

I gripped the seatbelt, my knuckles white, and squeezed my eyes shut. I didn't see the way Nate was looking at me—a strange, dark smirk playing on his lips. Watching me tremble like a frightened rabbit seemed to have improved his mood.

At City Hall, Nate stayed sullen. He was the picture of a man being led to his execution, but he signed every paper and followed every instruction.

When it came time for the photo, the photographer looked at Nate’s stony expression and hesitated. "Sir... maybe a smile? You look like you’re being forced into this."

Nate didn't say a word. The silence was deafening.

The photographer gave a nervous laugh. "Haha, just a joke! Anyway, the bride is stunning. You’re a lucky man."

Nate looked at me then, his eyes dragging over my face with a chilling intensity. "Lucky," he echoed, a bitter edge to his voice. "Yeah. So lucky."

Outside, the sun was bright, mocking the coldness between us. Nate headed for the car, and I stayed on the sidewalk. "Mr. Garrison... Nate. I can catch a cab from here. You don't have to—"

"Get in the car," he said, his tone mocking. "I’m taking you somewhere."

"I don't want to be a bother—"

He arched an eyebrow. "My mother’s orders. She said I need to 'bond' with my new bride. So, let’s bond."

I bit my lip and got in.

"Bonding," it turned out, meant being dragged to a private racetrack where Nate and a group of his wealthy, bored friends were tearing up the asphalt. He forced me into the passenger seat for a high-speed lap.

"Please," I whispered, my face turning ashen. "I’ll wait at the finish line."

Nate grinned, a reckless, predatory light in his eyes. "No way. You’re my wife now. You go where I go."

The next few minutes were a nightmare of screeching tires and G-force. The moment the car screeched to a halt, I fumbled for the door, stumbled out, and collapsed by the side of the track, heaving.

Nate leaned against the car, watching me. For a split second, I thought I saw a flash of guilt in his eyes, but it was gone before I could be sure.

One of his friends, a guy with blonde hair and a mischievous grin named Logan, walked over. He looked at me, then at Nate. "Where’d you find this one? She looks like she’s about to break."

"My mother’s choice," Nate said flatly. "The new Mrs. Garrison."

"What?" Logan’s eyes nearly popped out of his head. He looked back at me, then back to Nate. "Damn, man. Your mom has excellent taste. She’s gorgeous."

Nate shot him a murderous look. "If you like her so much, I’ll tell my mom to find one for you, too."

"Whoa, easy! My girl would literally skin me alive."