Never win a physical fight

Kasia

The house is quiet in the morning. When I slip downstairs, it’s empty.

“Good morning!” Margaret greets me when I enter the kitchen. She has a large smile and a plate of pancakes and sausage for me.

“Is Dominik here?” I ask, settling into the breakfast nook. The home of my humiliation. Does Margaret know what he did to me? Would she have stopped him if she’d seen?

“No. He left an hour ago. He’ll be back for dinner, though.” She puts a small pitcher with warmed maple syrup on the table.

What am I supposed to do all day alone in this house? At home I had my computer, my phone, my life.

“I think I’ll go to the bookstore if there’s one around here. Is there a car I can use, or can someone-”

“That’s not a good idea.” Margaret shakes her head and goes to the sink. Of course, he would tell her I’m not allowed to leave. I’m not a prisoner, but I can’t go anywhere.

I finish my breakfast and bring my plate and silverware to Margaret.

“I can help you today,” I offer.

Again, she shakes her head. “No, no. I have all this handled.” There’s a beeping sound and she scurries off to the iPad on the counter. After a few swipes there’s a live feed from outside playing. “Ah, looks like the men are back with your things.”

“My things?” I slept later than I’d hoped to, but it’s still morning. How early had they gone to pick up my belongings?

Two men carry in boxes and go upstairs. Apparently, they know where I’m sleeping. People are having conversations about me behind my back, it’s unsettling.

After the last box is brought up, I go up, too.

“One of the girls should be here soon, I’ll send her up to help.” Margaret says from behind me.

There’re three boxes in all. My entire life fits into three boxes.

“No, that’s fine. Thank you, but it’s mostly clothes. I can do it. It will give me something to do.”

She gives me a small smile then leaves me to it.

It’s nearly all clothes. Nothing in my father’s house was ever really mine. I’m happy to find my laptop and my tablet, though. I have a full library on my tablet. If nothing else, I’ll be able to put a small dent in my reading list.

After I’ve hung everything in the closet and put away everything else in the dressers, I sit in an armchair that faces the window. The backyard is large and sectioned off with fruit trees. A row of pine trees lines the back wall of the estate.

Would it be hard to climb over the wall? More importantly, where would I even go?

“Kasia.” The door to the room opens and Dominik walks in.

“Can’t you knock?” I say, turning back toward the window. I thought I’d have a longer reprieve from him today. It’s barely afternoon. Shouldn’t he be working, shaking someone down or something?

“Knock in my own house? No,” he says firmly and stands beside the chair. “I brought you this, but if you’re in a mood I can keep it a bit longer.”

My phone is in his hand. I look up at him. No smile, just a raised eyebrow. I take it from him.

“Thank you,” I say quietly.

Has he done anything to it? Put some sort of tracking app on it? Can he see who I talk to, who I text?

“I spoke with your father. He has to go out of town for a while, but he’ll call you this afternoon.” He slips his hands into his pockets. He’s wearing another suit. A black suit and tie set against a dark grey shirt. With his hair slicked back, and his beard neatly trimmed, he looks more like a handsome businessman than the demonic thug I’m sure he is.

My phone’s dead; it needs a good charge.

“How long will he be gone?” I ask. The longer he’s out of town, the longer the engagement. I’ll have time to think of a way out of this or get Dominik to change his mind.

I get up from the chair in search of my charging cable. It was among my tablet and computer.

“A few weeks at best. He mentioned you recently graduated. Did you have plans, a job offer maybe?”

I had a lot of plans. A lot of things I wanted to do next. Getting married to a mob boss wasn’t one of them.

“Kasia, I asked a question,” he says when I keep quiet.

After I dig out the cable, I turn to him. “Does it matter? Would you change any of this if I did?”

“No.” He answers without a second of hesitation and I have no doubt he wouldn’t have thought twice about his actions if I had a full life of achievements and goals ahead of me. My life means nothing to him. Not when he can use me for whatever purpose he has in mind.

I shake my head and go about plugging the charger into the wall.

“Then why bother asking?” I mutter.

He doesn’t answer me, but instead walks to the empty boxes.

“You’re unpacked all ready? Where are the other boxes?” he asks.

“That’s all there was.”

He goes to the closet and flips through my things.

“What are you doing?” I demand, standing at the doorway.

“Your father was supposed to send all of your things,” he says, looking annoyed.

“He did,” I tell him.

He looks back at the clothes but doesn’t make another comment. Did he think I was a prized possession that had been spoiled with baubles since childhood? He’d be sorely mistaken. Everything given was at risk of being taken. My father didn’t raise his hand to me, not once. He found more satisfaction in taking things away. He took away my toys as a child, kept me from my sister as punishment, and when there was nothing tangible to take anymore, he took away my freedom. Things and people can be taken away; it’s better not to have them in the first place.

“I’m glad you don’t have any more dresses like the one you were wearing the other night,” he comments, pulling a sun dress from the rod and looking it over.

“It was an old dress. It didn’t fit right. I don’t go out that often to need club clothes,” I explain, snatching my clothing from him and putting it back on the rack. “I don’t usually wear things like that.”

He studies me for a long minute. Like I’m not what he thought I was. Though how he could have any sort of opinion about me in the past few days is beyond me.

Though I have a damn good assessment of him.

“Good.” He steps closer to me, brushing my hair from my shoulders. “How is your ass today?”

His question throws me off balance. Before I can stop it, heat rushes to my cheeks, and I’m sure I’ve turned red right before his eyes.

“I’m not talking about that with you,” I say and leave him in the closet.

“Should I look for myself?” he asks, right on my heels.

Spinning around to face him, I bump into his chest. With a rumble of laughter from his chest, he catches me and puts me at an arm’s length away. I hate how easily he handles me. How much my skin tingles with excitement when he lets go. I felt nothing when other men have touched me, but this man brushes against me, and I feel like a firecracker ready to go off.

He grins. “Maybe I should.”

“I’m fine,” I answer quickly.

“No. I think I should check.” He tilts his head, like this is a dare. Do I obey him, or do I fight him? He stands a full head taller than me, and his muscular build suggests he could benchpress two of me without breaking a sweat. I’d never win in a physical fight with him.