by Measha Stone
But I’m tired and done with all of this chest beating.
“Tommy, take her up to her room.” Dominik gives the order without moving his gaze from mine.
Two strong hands wrap around my arms, and I’m pulled backward, then dragged toward the stairs. I try to yank free, but he’s too strong, too determined to be the perfect soldier for his boss.
I give up on struggling and Tommy lets me go so I can walk up the stairs easier. Once we’re upstairs, he grabs my elbow and pulls me down the corridor to a closed door.
“This is your room.” He pushes the door open, dropping his hand. His eyes are on me though, ready if I try to bolt. Where would I go? I doubt my father would let me go home, and without my phone I can’t exactly order an uber to come save me.
I walk past Tommy into the room. The door shuts softly behind me and I’m alone. The enormity of the evening crashes on me. I’m in a room, in a strange house with a strange man who is bound to me.
Dropping my bag onto the floor, I sink into an armchair in the corner. I’m sure the room is lovely, but I close my eyes and suck in a trembling breath.
Who exactly is Dominik Staszek, and why does he want me?
Chapter Five
Dominik
Kasia is asleep when I go up to her room several hours later. She’s lying on her side with one arm tucked beneath her head and the other tucked between her knees. She didn’t climb under the covers; I wonder if she’s chilled. Maybe she didn’t intend to fall asleep.
After getting rid of Jakub, I had a phone call from my father. There’s a good chance he’ll be able to come home soon. The case built against him is mostly bullshit, and once the right wheels are greased to turn the other way on any legit issue, he’ll be on the first plane home. Not that he’s hating all his time lounging poolside at our family home in Pruszków. He’s been wanting to visit the family estate for a long time. His legal troubles were a good excuse.
Kasia looks different today than the first time I saw her. Older, of course, but also more refined. Her hair is softer, her makeup more subdued.
I suppose I should feel bad. This unsuspecting girl isn’t anything more than a means to an end. But when I look at her, sleeping so peacefully, I don’t have anything like remorse. She had touted to Marcin he’d promised her freedom, but men like Marcin never let go of what they think is theirs. If he forced her to stay, to live the life he laid out for her, there would be no escaping it.
I won’t play the hypocrite. I’m cruel, too, but not in the same way as him. Innocence matters to me. Well, it did until now. Kasia isn’t her father, I know that. She doesn’t deserve what’s coming her way.
But there’s no stopping the train now that it’s left the station.
It’s tempting to her let her sleep away the afternoon and talk with her tomorrow. I open the blinds, allowing the soft summer sunlight to wash over her face. It’s enough to have woken me if I were sleeping, but she doesn’t stir. There’s a thick curl of hair covering her cheek; I brush it away. Still, she doesn’t stir.
Does she trust her surroundings enough to fall so deeply asleep? Or has she always slept like the dead? I know nothing about this woman, other than what I’ve been able to dig up—which wasn’t much. I know her father has magically kept her separated from his business dealings. She attended a private high school, then went to the University of Chicago where she received a bachelor’s degree in elementary education.
Everything else about her though is a mystery. It won’t matter. There’s time to find out, if I have the need.
“Kasia,” I say her name roughly, shaking her shoulder gently at first, then harder when she remains lost to sleep.
She jumps away, whipping her hand up from her knees to ward off an attack. Sitting upright, she scrambles across the bed to the other side, blinking as she tries to bring the room into focus.
“I didn’t mean to scare you,” I say, holding out my hands. “You were sleeping hard.”
She rubs the heels of her hands into her eyes. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to fall asleep.” When she drops her hands, her mascara is smeared beneath her eyes. It’s not much, a shadow at best. She’d been up all night, of course she fell asleep.
“I hadn’t intended to be so long coming up.” I straighten and slide my hands into my pockets. I’ve changed out of my suit and am wearing a pair of loose-fitting slacks and a black button-down long-sleeved shirt. Her gaze wanders over me, like she’s looking for something.
“Why am I here?” she asks, folding her legs behind her and crawling backward off the bed. Now that the queen-sized bed is between us, she’s found some bravery.
“I think your father made that pretty clear,” I say, keeping my eyes locked on her.
“Marriage, yeah, I know. But why am I here now? Why couldn’t I stay home until the wedding?” she pushes.
“It’s safer here.” My actions will come with consequences. But as much as I don’t want her to have to pay for them, I also don’t want my enemies to use her against me.
Her shoulders drop and for a second, I think she’s going to let it go. She should let it go. Too many questions can be dangerous.
“Why is it safer here?” She emphasizes the first word. I don’t miss how her hands fist at her sides, gathering the material of her shirt.
There’s a little pink starting to tint her high cheekbones. There’s fire there, beneath the surface.
“It’s enough that it is.” I dismiss her question without answering it. “It’s important that you understand a few things.”
“It’s not enough that you say it is.” She cuts me off. Her eyes widen. Does her outburst surprise even her?
“Kasia—”
“No. I deserve to know. I may not get a say in where my father sends me, or who he sells me to, but I deserve to at least know why it’s dangerous for me to be at my own home.” Her heart must be hammering in her chest; I can see the pulsation in her neck.
She’s not wrong. But I can’t tolerate her tone.
“Kasia, I understand this is all confusing and new and a little scary. But don’t raise your voice to me,” I say, putting my finger up when she looks ready to launch again. “It’s better that you’re here now. This is your home now,” I say.
“Why?” she asks me, but she’s not asking about where she’ll be living now. She wants to know why she’s engaged to me. Why I wanted her.
“It serves my purpose.” I won’t lie to her. I won’t always tell her everything she wants to know, but I won’t lie.
“And what purpose could I possibly serve?” she asks, her voice dropping. Her irritation is building again. “The agreement between your father and mine was for my sister. It’s way past the time you were supposed to take her.” She pauses, a flicker of pain flashes but disappears. “Were you not able to buy another bride? You had to circle back to my family?”
“Kasia, I’m trying to be patient today because I’m sure this is all overwhelming. But if you keep this up, raising your voice, I’m not going to be able to let it go for long.” I stalk around the bed, keeping my gaze locked with hers while I make way to where she’s standing. I’m a little surprised, and even a bit impressed, when the heat in her stare doesn’t die as I approach. I expected her to cower, but instead, she looks ready to battle.
“Patient? Do you have any idea how messed up this is?” She raises her chin. “I’m not a thing to be bought.” I think she’s told herself that over and over again, but this is the first time she’s allowed herself to give voice to it.
“One.” I raise a finger in the air, pressing it to her chin. “I didn’t buy you. Maybe that’s something your father does, buys and sells women, but not me. So, I don’t want to hear you say that again,” I say.
She steels her expression too quickly for me to get a real sense of her reaction.
“How did you get my father to agree to this, then?” She doesn’t know details, but I think she knows more about the world her feather lives in than he told me. She’s smar
t.
“You don’t need to know about that.” I move my finger from her chin, up along her cheek, gathering her thick hair and tucking it behind her ear. There are pearl teardrops dangling delicately from her earlobes. These aren’t costume jewelry. They’re real. Expensive, too, with the diamond studs.
“Of course not.” She pulls away from my touch. Her tone sours. Maybe the nap wasn’t good for her. She’s woken up with a vengeance.
“What you need to know right now, Kasia, is we’re going to be married.”
Her gaze shoots away from me. “And then what?” she asks, her shoulders slumping. It’s a logical question. And I don’t have an answer for her.
“Then we’re married,” I say, keeping it simple.
A low rumble escapes from her stomach.
I smile. “Margaret made food for us. It’s in the kitchen, let’s get you something to eat.”
“Who’s Margaret?” she asks.
“My housekeeper.” I move to the door and open it, gesturing her to come with me. She’s not a prisoner. Not exactly. Her movements will have to be restricted for a while, but it’s for her safety. She’ll understand that.
Or not.
Either way, that’s how it will be.
She eyes the bed momentarily. Her options are to stay hungry and in her room, or deal with having me for a dinner partner. Her hand presses to her stomach, and I’m certain hunger has won out.
She keeps her back rod-straight as she brushes past me and heads down the hall to the stairs. Her movements are confident, strong.
It’s just dinner, but she looks like she’s headed into battle.
A fight she will never win.
Ever.
Chapter Six
Kasia
Dominik’s kitchen is gorgeous. The entire house is beautiful. Modern, sleek design with a lot of open space. It’s warm, a house I can imagine children running around playing. It’s a direct contrast to what I see when I look at him.
He’s large, forbidding, cold. Even with the change out of his suit to more casual shirt and slacks, he appears all business. And well rested. Did he sleep before coming to get me?
As soon as I sit at the built-in breakfast nook in the corner of the kitchen overlooking the backyard, his phone rings. He pulls it out of the back pocket of his pants and looks at it. With a frown he answers the call and steps further away from me. I can’t understand him, but I hear how fast he’s talking. He’s not happy.
“Oh, good, you’ve come down to eat,” a woman probably in her sixties says, popping out from what I think is a pantry. She smiles brightly at me and offers her hands. I reach out to her and she grasps both my hands in hers and shakes them. It’s more of a hug than a handshake, and she looks genuinely happy to see me, so I don’t pull away until she lets me go.
“Forgive me,” she says, swishing her hand through the air. “I’m Margaret. I’m Mr. Staszek’s housekeeper. There are two other women who also work the house, cleaning, laundry, that sort of thing, but if you ever need anything just come straight to me and I’ll see it done,” she tells me. “There’s pork chops, mashed potatoes, and green beans all set for you and Mr. Staszek.” She looks around the kitchen, maybe she expected him.
“He had a call,” I tell her, and she nods.
“I’ll fix you a plate then.”
“You don’t have to, I can—”
“No, no you sit. I’ll get it. You must have had quite the day,” she says and there’s a comfort with her acknowledgement. Quite a day is the understatement of the year, of my life.
I thank her when she places the plate she’s made up for me in front of me. It’s a heavy meal for the afternoon, but having slept all day, I’m starved.
Dominik is still in the other room. He’s keeping his voice down, but I see him pacing the living room.
Margaret puts a second place on the table for Dominik along with silverware and an opened bottle of beer. She offers me wine, but I only want water. I just want to eat and go back to my room.
“Do you live here too?” I ask. The house is so large, too large for just one man to live in.
She smiles. “No, but it feels like it some days.” She gestures to the plate. “Go on and eat. Sometimes his calls last a while. Is there anything else I can get you?”
“No, no. Thank you.” I pick up my fork and knife, ready to dive into the pork chops. She’s breaded them and the smell makes my mouth water.
“I’m going to check a few things and then I’ll be heading home. But if you need me, my number is on the inside of the pantry door or let Mr. Staszek know and he’ll call me.” She adds the last part like she just remembered I’m not allowed communication with the outside world.
I thank her again and cut into the pork chop. A shadow behind the blinds startles me. I must have made a noise because Dominik hurries back into the kitchen.
He ends his call. Pressing one knee into the bench, he leans toward the window to check out what spooked me.
“It’s just my men,” he says to me, then knocks on the window and gestures for whoever it is to move. “Smoking,” he explains and sits down across from me, looking at my plate.
“You have men surrounding the house?” I ask. The estate is gated, and from what I saw of the neighborhood it’s not exactly slum living.
“More than your father, but you’ll get used to them,” he explains and cuts into his own meal.
He chews a bite of pork while staring at me across the table. It’s like he’s assessing me still. Maybe I’ll come up short and he’ll send me home.
I begin eating, not asking any more questions. It’s better I stay ignorant, I think. Let him have his life and I’ll find a way to have mine. This won’t be a real marriage, so we don’t need to pretend it is. Two separate people living in one house. It’s large enough, we probably won’t see each other very much anyway.
“You sleep like the dead,” he says after I put my fork and knife down.
“I was tired. And it’s not like there’s anything else to do up there.” I’ve always been a heavy sleeper. It takes two alarms to wake me up in the mornings.
“There’s a tv room downstairs in the basement,” he tells me and takes a pull of his beer.
“I’m not going to be locked away in my room?” I ask, surprised.
“Not unless you need to be,” he answers with narrowed eyes. “Do I need to lock you in your room? Are you going to be a naughty girl and try to run away?” He cocks his head to the side, studying me.
I force my expression to go blank. At least I hope I do. I can never tell if I’ve mastered the art or if I’m as transparent as I feel.
“When can I have my phone back?”
He takes another sip of his beer. “We’ll see.”
“We’ll see?” I can’t stop the anger boiling up. “You just said I’m not to be locked away.”
“You aren’t. You’re free to roam the house and even the grounds, but you aren’t to leave the property and you aren’t to speak to anyone until I say so.” He pushes his plate away and stands up from the table.
I scoot out of the nook. “What if I say no?” My heart jackhammers in my chest. This man kidnapped a woman yesterday, what will he do if I piss him off too much? But I don’t want to walk around on eggshells. I’m tired of it. I’m so tired of trying to placate those around me for fear of making a splash.
“Say no?” he asks, leaning one hip against the kitchen island.
“If I don’t agree to marry you?”
His eyes narrow to thin slits, but it doesn’t keep the heat from his glare hidden.
“Because I don’t want this. I don’t want to marry you.”
In three steps he’s in front of me, the toes of his expensive leather shoes pressed against the tips of my ballerina flats. He pinches my chin between his fingers in a hard grip and pushes my head back until I have to look down my nose to see him. Moving closer, he looms over me.
“Do you have a boyfriend? Someone you’re in
love with?”
His question throws me for a moment. “No,” I answer when I recover.
His eyes roam over my face, more inspections. I’m not a liar, but I’m not sure he’s ever known anyone in his life that didn’t lie to him.
“Then we’ll work fine together,” he says, running the flat of his thumb over my bottom lip. The part of me that should be screaming at my legs to move, to carry me away from this dangerous man isn’t working. All that’s registering is the warmth of his touch, and how the pain of his grip is sending electric waves through my body, straight to my center.
“I don’t want to marry you,” I say firmly.
“We don’t always get the luxury of only doing what we want,” he says, shifting his hand to cradle the side of my face. His thumb traces my cheekbone. “You’ll be a good girl for me, Kasia. If you don’t... If you try to refuse me...” He leans closer to me, the tip of his nose pressing to my ear. “You’ll be punished like a bad, bad girl.”
I curl my fingers inward. This man could break me if he wanted to.
His mouth presses against my cheek, then my chin, finally he covers my mouth with his. It’s not tender, his kiss. It’s a branding. He’s marking me. I try to blank out, to just let it happen, but he won’t let me.
He grips the back of my neck, holds me to him and deepens the kiss. I want to fight him off, to push him away, punch him, kick at him, because despite what I want my insides to do, I’m melting beneath him. Maybe it’s the power, or the ownership he’s trying to convey.
When he pulls back, it’s with an arrogant grin. He knows what his touch is capable of doing. And I’m just another victim.
He must know I want to get away from him, because he fists his hand in my hair, holding me steady.
“You can look at me with all the hatred you want, Kasia, but you can’t hide the reaction your body has to my touch.”
“It’s just a physical reaction, nothing more.” I’m not telling the whole truth though. I’ve been kissed before. This is different. This left a tingle on my lips, and a wetness in my panties.
