by Measha Stone
And that’s it.
I’ve been dismissed. Not just from the meeting, but from my home. My life.
“Do you even know this man?” I ask my father. Everything I’ve done over the past four years was to earn my freedom. I went to the school he chose, I roomed with girls he hand-picked. I did everything because after graduation, I’d be free to move out, to start a new life on my own. And he’s pulled the rug right out from beneath my feet. Not so much as a conversation, a warning. Just a simple command thrown at me like I’m nothing more than a foot soldier.
No. Less than a foot soldier.
This is my life.
My father’s eyes narrow, but I don’t care. I’ll take whatever punishment he wants to dish out; I deserve to know what’s happening to my own life.
“I know everything I need to know. Now, don’t show Mr. Staszek what a rude girl you can be, go pack your bag.” He flicks his hand toward the office doors. He’s dismissed me off hand.
Our relationship has strained over the years since the accident. It’s hard for him to look at me. I understand that, I look just like her, so much like mom, too. And my part in it, he’s never forgiven me. It has to hurt, even for a man who values his work over his family. But this is beyond what he’s done before. He’s throwing me into the arms of a stranger.
Tears threaten, but I turn away before anyone can see. I force my expression to wipe clean of the fear, the sadness.
“Kasia.” Dominik’s voice stops me at the door.
I turn slightly, waiting for him to continue.
“It was nice seeing you again.”
My jaw aches, I clench it so tightly.
I march up to my room. Anger shakes inside me, fear wraps a cold blanket around me. But I hold it in, I shove it down. Because there is no other option. This is my life; this is my duty.
Once safety inside my room, I look around. Nothing here is really mine. Everything can be taken away at a moment’s notice, most of it has been either a punishment or a test.
I grab a bag from my closet and get to work.
There are no options for me. It’s not new, but this feels different.
I’ve been released from the grasp of one monster, only to be thrown into the grips of another.
Chapter Three
Dominik
“She’ll come around,” Marcin Garska assures me once his daughter has left the office. I wait until the patter of her bare feet have faded off into silence before I address him.
“I’m not worried about her,” I tell him, moving my hands from my pockets.
“I warn you, she’s a stubborn girl.”
I raise an eyebrow. “She’ll be fine,” I say, but I don’t sense any actual worry from him. He looks almost relieved to be rid of her, and if she’s being hauled off to hell, which I’m sure he believes life married to a Staszek would be, all the better to him.
“I was surprised when your father called.” He’s trying to fill the space of time it’s going to take his daughter to stuff a few outfits into a bag.
“Why’s that?” I ask, picking up the photo frame on his desk. It’s a picture of his family. When they were a family. Diana is sitting on Marcin’s lap, smiling for the camera while her father wraps his arms around her middle. Kasia, stands between her parents, a forced smile on her lips.
“Well, I know he’s having some issues—”
“Issues that this alliance will help clear up,” I cut him off. He seems to think we don’t know what sort of underhanded shit he’s been pulling over the years. Greasing palms is just part of living in Chicago for men like us, but he’s been doing more. He’s the reason my father’s living in Warsaw right now, hiding from the government. But Marcin thinks he’s too smart to get caught.
“Yes, of course. My resources are yours. Now that we will be family, we help each other,” he says, but bitterness lays beneath his words.
“He’ll be happy to hear that.” I put the photograph back on his desk. “Kasia has finished school, you said. What did she finish for?”
“A degree in teaching,” he scoffs, like it’s the worst profession someone could have. My own mother was a schoolteacher before she married my father. But a man like Marcin Garska doesn’t appreciate actual work. He’s taken over his family from his father, whereas my father created our strength. He brought the Staszek family name up from nothing. It’s something to be admired, but not to a man like Marcin. To him, we aren’t as skilled, not as powerful. But he’s wrong.
“And did she pick her degree or did you?” I ask, but I already have an idea.
“I chose for her,” he says while raising his chin. “It’s what’s best for her.”
“To earn a degree doing a job you find disgusting?” I ask.
“She wanted to go to college. I let her.” He actually thinks he was being generous.
Walking around his office, I spy another photograph. This time it’s just him and the girls. They are smaller, much younger. Diana is laughing, sitting on Marcin’s shoulders, while Kasia, stands beside him, tugging on his shirt.
My jaw clenches.
“How is your sister? Your brother?” Marcin asks. I turn from the bookshelf where the photo is kept.
“Both are fine.” I don’t want to talk about them. I don’t want to talk to him at all. I check my watch.
“She’ll be down soon,” he promises.
“I could help her,” I suggest.
“Christopher,” Marcin calls toward the door. One of his men steps inside the office. “Get Kasia from her room. Dominik is ready to leave,” he states firmly. I don’t miss the bitter way he speaks her name.
While the man scampers off to fetch my fiancé, I turn to the attorney standing in the corner of the room. There’s no need for him here, but Marcin insisted.
“You handle all of the Garska legal issues?” I ask him.
He clears his throat and nods. “Yes, well, I have associates that help from time to time.”
“You’ll be sending the agreement over then. Confirmation that the terms have been seen to?”
He flicks his gaze to Marcin, then back. Maybe I should wait while he fetches the documents now.
“I’ll have them to you by the end of the day,” he promises.
“Good.”
“She’s ready,” Christopher returns, poking his head into the office.
I take a look at Marcin. A father should have some reaction to his only child being carted off in the middle of the night. He has none. A figure of stone watching me from behind his damn desk.
“We’ll be going then. Do you want a moment alone with her?” I ask. Shouldn’t a father say goodbye to his daughter? If my sister were in Kasia’s place—I don’t finish the thought. Joseph Staszek would never allow such an arrangement for his daughter.
“No. I’ll speak to her tomorrow. Once she’s settled.” He pauses. “I don’t want to keep you waiting any longer than you have,” he adds. Maybe he senses his reaction isn’t normal.
“I’ll let you know when she’s...settled,” I say, marching from the office.
Kasia stands at the foot of the staircase. One of my men already has her bag in his hands, waiting for my instructions. I wave him off, and he scurries out to the car to put her things away.
She’s changed out of the too-tight dress that barely covered her ass into a pair of black yoga pants and a white t-shirt. The neckline has been torn out, so the shirt is angled. Her left shoulder sticks out. Her hair is loose around her shoulders, the long locks in thick waves. She’s washed off the makeup. There’s a subtle beauty to her. Natural. The dark lashes and red lipstick overshadowed it. She looks better this way.
“Ready?” I gesture toward the front door.
Her brown eyes widen a fraction. Did she think this was all a game? A bluff?
She casually glances down the hall to where her father is still inside his office. Disappointment crosses her features, but it’s only a flicker. Quickly hidden behind a blank expression.
<
br /> Oh, sweetheart, you can’t hide from me that easily.
She raises her chin and marches out of the house. It’s the walk of the condemned.
Accurate for the moment.
Chapter Four
Kasia
Dominik’s house is outside the city limits, but he told me when he climbed into the SUV after me we have to make a quick stop .
There’s a familiarity to the neighborhood as the driver turns off of Milwaukee Avenue onto a side street. I recognize the corner building from years ago.
“Something caught your eye?” he asks from beside me. I stiffen at the deep tenor of his voice.
“That building is familiar,” I say, leaning back into my seat. My suitcase has been tucked into the back, but I hug my purse to my chest. Orange hues are peaking on the horizon. The sun will be up soon.
“You’ve been there?” he asks but doesn’t turn to see which building I’m talking about.
“When I was little.”
“You lived around here then?”
I eye him silently for a long moment. “So many questions,” I say, throwing his words back at him. I may have been brought up to know my place, but that doesn’t mean I can’t push boundaries.
His mouth kicks up at the edges.
He leans closer to me. I can smell the musk of his cologne. It’s not thick and suffocating like some men wear; it’s manly, but subtle.
“Rule number one. I ask, you answer.” He stares at me, those blue eyes of his could burn my skin.
I have no idea why I’m here, why he would want to make me marry him. And until I do, it’s best to walk a cautious line.
“We did. Probably a few blocks from here. I was very little; I don’t remember exactly.”
“But you remember that building?”
“My mother took me there for Polish school on the weekends.” I remember our house, but I don’t tell him that. Walking down memory lane from such a carefree time in my life doesn’t bring me joy. It’s just a reminder of what was taken from me, from my mother.
“Polish school?” His eyebrows quirk upward. “Your parents didn’t teach you to speak it?” From his accent, I can tell he’s a native speaker.
“My mother didn’t speak Polish, so it was hard. My father worked so much he was rarely home. I can understand better than I can speak it,” I explain and look back out the window.
“Your mother’s not Polish then?” he asks, but I get the sense he already knows. He doesn’t strike me as a man who doesn’t know everything before moving forward with a deal. And taking me as his wife is nothing but a business maneuver, I’m sure.
“She was. My grandfather migrated from Poland, but my grandmother grew up here in Chicago. They never taught her the language,” I answer, not giving him more. I’m not in the mood to discuss my family history. “Are we almost at your house?” I ask, shifting the bag in my lap. My cell phone buzzes from the front pocket and I pull it out.
“No. We’re making a quick stop then we’ll head home. It’s about a half hour drive once we get on the highway.” He leans further over to me as I swipe my phone alive. “Don’t.” He puts his hand over my screen. His touch is warm when he covers my hand with his.
I bring my gaze up to his. He’s not looking at my phone, but at me.
“Don’t what? It’s just a girl from the party, making sure I got home all right.”
“Not yet.” He easily pulls my phone from my grip and tucks it inside his blazer.
“She’s just a friend,” I say, putting my hand out. I want my phone. I haven’t done anything to warrant him taking it away. I haven’t even fought this stupid notion of us getting married.
“I know that.” He pulls his own phone out and taps away on the screen.
The car slows and then pulls to the side of the street, parking in front of a three-flat. A single light is on in the front window of the garden apartment. The driver gets out of the car and walks quietly to the building. Dominik continues his tapping on his damn phone. A shadow, then two, appear in the window, then within a minute later, the driver is back outside walking to the car, tucking a thick envelope into his jacket. The light goes out in the apartment.
“Did he have it?” Dominik asks without looking up from his phone when the driver gets back inside.
“Every penny.”
“See.” Dominik tucks his phone away. “With the right incentive, they find the money. Have Janusz bring the wife home. I want her back here within the hour,” he orders and my mouth dries.
“You kidnapped someone’s wife?” I ask before I can stop myself. Did I think him less capable of evil than my father? They live in the same world, work the same business, but I never saw anything of my father’s work. He sheltered us from all of it. It’s one of the few kindnesses he’s paid me over the years.
Dominik ignores my question. “It’s going to take a while to get home. You can nap if you’d like. I’m sure you’re tired from your party tonight,” he says, looking out the window, away from me.
I curl my fingers into my palms, pressing my nails into my skin. It hurts, burns, but it floods me with relief. This pain I understand, and I welcome it.
Over the next half hour, I stare out my window at the streetlamps along the highway. The sun is climbing back into the sky and by the time we turn off the exit, the streetlights have all gone to sleep.
The front gates of Dominik’s estate open as soon as the car pulls up. After a short drive up a winding driveway, the car pulls up to a large American foursquare house. Flowers bloom in the garden along the front of the house and more in planters hang off the wooden deck. I expected something more...severe looking.
His door is opened by the driver and he steps out, standing to the side and offering his hand to me. I look from his hand to the house. It’s beautiful. More inviting than the all-brick bungalow that my father lives in, but I don’t let the contrasts in architecture trick me. I’m only moving from one prison to another. And this one has a locked gate around it.
I slide across the back seat and climb out of the car, ignoring his hand. There’s no need to pretend manners.
Dominik wraps his hand around my upper arm and leads me forward up the steps. Once inside the house, Dominik is greeted by a similar looking man. He’s a little shorter than Dominik, but his arrogance is just as loud.
“Jakub, you didn’t have to wait,” Dominik says.
“I didn’t think you’d be this late,” Jakub says, giving me a cursory glance then moving back to Dominik.
“It’s been a night.” Dominik drops his hand from my arm. The driver of the car brings in my suitcase and Dominik gestures toward the stairs. “Put those in the room next to mine. She’ll stay there for the time being.”
My own room. I suppose I should be grateful, but there’s still a sense of dread bubbling in my stomach. Everything has happened so quickly; I’m only now beginning to fully grasp my situation.
I don’t know Dominik. Who is he to my father and why did he do this? I have no idea what’s to become of me once this all plays out.
“Kasia, this is my brother.” He turns to Jakub. “Jakub, this is Kasia Garska.” Dominik places his hand on the small of my back. A gesture of ownership, I think, with the way he pulls me closer to him.
I extend my hand toward Jakub. “It’s nice to meet you,” I say. Not because I mean it, but because I’m acting on autopilot.
I need to get alone. I need to work all of this out in my mind.
Jakub’s hand is gentler than Dominik’s, but just as large. This man is as dangerous, I can feel it in my bones.
“Same here, Kasia. It will be nice to have some beauty in this house.” He grins at me, but his gaze flickers to Dominik. Seeking his approval maybe. My father never cared for attention paid my mother so long as it made his business easier.
A flash of a memory hits me, but within a blink it’s gone.
Dominik brushes his hand over mine, taking me from Jakub’s grip. “Kasia, go up to you
r room and wait for me. I’ll be there shortly.” He gestures behind me, and the man from earlier is back. He’s my escort. Or my prison guard.
“Wait for you?” I yank my hand free from him. My level of patience has reached its limit. I’ve been sold, then traded, and now I’m to heel like some dog and wait for my master to come to my room? It’s too much.
Dominik must sense it, because he turns to me, blocking Jakub’s view of me. He knuckles my chin up until my eyes line with his. There are those cold, blue eyes again, peering down at me like I’m nothing more than an object to be bought. His possession now, I suppose. I wonder how much my ticket price was.
“Don’t cause trouble, Kasia. Go on upstairs and I’ll come soon. I know you have questions, but not until we’re in private.” He softens his hand, cupping my cheek and running his thumb along my cheek bone.
“I’d like my phone back,” I say quietly, matching him. He obviously doesn’t want Jakub to hear our conversation, and I have no need for a witness either.
“I already said not yet. Don’t ask me again, Kasia. I’m being patient, but don’t take that as a weakness.”
“Patient?” My eyes widen with my question. He can’t be serious.
He doesn’t respond with words, only caresses my cheek again before dropping his hand. There’s a tingle where his touch was.
“Go on,” he says with a flick of his head. A signal, I suppose, that I’ve been dismissed.
When I don’t move, he leans in, his warm breath washing over my cheek.
“Rule number two. Always do as you’re told,” he whispers in my ear.
“As soon as I have my phone.” I raise my chin, fist my hands at my sides.
His eyebrows raise. I think I’ve surprised him. I went so willingly with him from my father’s home. I obeyed my father’s instructions so easily, so quickly. Dominik probably thought he’d bought himself a nice doormat for a wife.
