Me marry him?

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 your 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.

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?