Married To The Comatose Tech Emperor

The cold metal of the surgical scalpel pressed against the warm skin of Gina's thumb.

She sat behind the massive mahogany desk in the director's office of Blackwood Asylum.

Her back rested against the plush leather chair.

She twirled the scalpel between her fingers.

The sharp edge caught the fluorescent light, flashing a blinding white across the sterile room.

Dr. Evans stood two feet away from the desk.

A thick bead of sweat rolled down his temple.

It soaked into the stiff white collar of his medical coat.

His breathing was shallow and rapid.

His hands shook as he held out a stack of discharge papers.

Heavy, rapid footsteps echoed from the hallway outside.

Dr. Evans flinched.

He scrambled backward, putting the desk between himself and Gina.

He cleared his throat and raised his voice, pointing a trembling finger at her.

"You need to understand the rules of the outside world, Gina."

The heavy oak door was violently shoved open.

It slammed against the wall with a loud crack.

Gustaf Rollins stepped into the room.

He wore a custom Tom Ford suit that hugged his broad shoulders.

The smell of rich cigar smoke and expensive cologne instantly overpowered the scent of bleach in the office.

Gustaf stopped in the center of the room.

He looked at Gina.

She wore a faded, oversized gray jumpsuit.

Her dark hair hung in greasy, tangled strands over her face.

Gustaf pinched the bridge of his nose and let out a loud breath.

He waved his hand in front of his face as if swatting away a foul odor.

"Sign the damn papers, Evans."

Gustaf threw a legal waiver onto the desk.

The thick paper slid across the polished wood and stopped right in front of Dr. Evans.

Dr. Evans picked up a pen.

His knuckles turned white from gripping the plastic too hard.

He did not look at the paper.

His eyes darted toward Gina.

He waited.

Gina slowly lowered her eyelids.

She slid the scalpel up her sleeve.

The cold metal rested against her forearm.

She gave a single, barely visible nod.

Dr. Evans exhaled a massive breath.

His shoulders dropped.

He scribbled his signature on the bottom line and slammed the heavy steel seal of the asylum onto the paper.

Gustaf did not wait for the ink to dry.

He marched around the desk.

His large hand clamped down on Gina.

His thick fingers dug into her bicep, bruising the skin.

He yanked her out of the leather chair.

Gina let her knees buckle.

She stumbled forward, her shoulder hitting Gustaf.

She let her head loll slightly to the side.

Her body felt completely limp, perfectly mimicking a patient heavily sedated by years of psychiatric drugs.

"Keep your mouth shut on the ride to New York."

Gustaf tightened his grip on her arm.

"If you have an episode, I will tie you to the roof of the car."

He dragged her toward the door.

Gina dragged her feet against the linoleum floor.

They stepped out into the long, gray hallway.

The walls were lined with heavy steel doors.

Thick iron bars covered the small viewing windows.

Behind the bars, dozens of inmates stood in the shadows.

These were the most violent offenders in the state.

Their eyes locked onto Gina.

Gustaf felt the heavy stares.

The hairs on the back of his neck stood up.

His chest tightened.

He swallowed hard and quickened his pace, dragging Gina faster.

He thought the inmates were looking at him.

He thought they were preparing to throw themselves against the doors.

Gina walked half a step behind Gustaf.

She raised her free hand.

She kept it close to her waist, completely hidden from Gustaf.

She pressed her thumb over her index and middle fingers.

It was a precise, silent command signal recognized only within the highest echelons of the international underground prison system.

The hallway went dead silent.

Every single inmate behind the iron bars took a synchronized step backward.

Their boots scraped against the concrete floors.

They lowered their heads.

Their chins touched their chests in absolute submission.

Gustaf pushed open the heavy front doors of the asylum.

The cold autumn wind hit their faces.

A black Lincoln Navigator sat idling on the crushed gravel driveway.

The driver jumped out and opened the rear door.

Gustaf let go of Gina.

He climbed into the spacious second row and sank into the leather seat.

"Get in the back."

He pointed to the cramped third row.

Gina climbed in.

Her knees bumped against the back of Gustaf.

She looked at the pristine beige leather interior.

The corners of her mouth twitched upward into a cold, hard smile.

The heavy doors slammed shut.

The engine roared.

The SUV tires crunched over the gravel, driving through the towering barbed-wire gates of Blackwood.

Gina looked out the rear window.

Dr. Evans stood on the concrete steps.

He bent at the waist.

He bowed deeply toward the departing vehicle and did not stand up.

The SUV merged onto the highway.

Gustaf pulled a silver lighter from his pocket.

He lit a thick cigar.

The heavy smoke filled the enclosed cabin.

The smell burned the back of Gina.

"We are not bringing you back out of the goodness of our hearts."

Gustaf blew a cloud of smoke toward the ceiling.

"Father arranged a marriage for you."

He turned his head slightly, looking at her through the rearview mirror.

"It is a commercial union with the Brooks family."

Gustaf adjusted his expensive diamond cufflinks.

"This is the greatest blessing you will ever receive in your miserable life. You will accept it on your knees."

Gina kept her head down.

Her eyes stayed locked on the rearview mirror.

She watched the muscles in Gustaf.

She saw his left eye twitch.

She saw his grip on the cigar tighten.

Her brain processed the micro-expressions instantly.

He was hiding something massive.

This marriage was a death trap.

Gina pulled her shoulders up to her ears.

She made her body tremble.

"Who is it."

Her voice was raspy and weak, scratching her throat as the words came out.

Gustaf rolled his eyes.

"Kerr Brooks."

The name hit Gina.

Her mind instantly accessed the massive, encrypted database she kept in her head.

Kerr Brooks.

The emperor of New York.

The man who controlled the global tech infrastructure.

Gina dropped her chin to her chest.

Her messy bangs fell forward, completely covering her eyes.

Behind the curtain of hair, her eyes burned with a sharp, predatory light.

"Okay."

She whispered the word to her knees.