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“Come on, now. Don’t ruin today with tears, Patricia Marie. You’re going to do as you’re told, anyway. Finish the cake, and we’ll get you dressed in a pretty gown that we picked out for him.” She saunters out of the kitchen with a little too much sass.
“Bitch,” I say loudly enough for her to hear before the door fully closes.
She whips back around faster than I’ve ever seen her move before. She’s in my face, staring me down, but fear has temporarily left me. She’s already assigned me the worst fate next to death. “What did you call me?”
Standing straight up, backbone stiff, my smile spreads across my face as I say, “You heard me. I made sure not to mutter this time. I know how you can’t stand it, Mother Dearest.”
“You ungrateful brat.” She yanks me hard by the arm and slams me against the counter, sending the bowl full of sugar and vanilla all over me.
I’m so damn pissed I could kill her myself. “Yes, ungrateful, being sold to your highest bidder? Or who you owe a debt to? Or who? Just one of your soldiers?”
“To the devil—Sergei Morozov.” I’ve heard about him, and my mouth falls open. “That’s what I thought. You better watch your mouth because once he has you in his grasp, he’s not going to tolerate it.”
“Well, I’ll make sure as a wedding present I have him end your life, so remember to watch your mouth.” She pales. “That’s what I thought. Now that you’ve ruined my birthday, my cake, and now my body, I suppose I’ll have to go get changed again for my future husband.”
I rush out of the kitchen and up to my bedroom, slamming the door. I strip out of my clothes and use the sugar granules as a scrub, rubbing it into my skin before washing it off. I take a deep breath and try to think about my escape plan when my shower is over. There’s no way I can marry that monster, and there’s no way they’ll allow anything else. How am I going to flee?
I quickly wash off and when I get out, I see my reflection. Fuck, that bitch really got me good. The dumb bitch left a handprint on my arm. If I’m forced to marry him, I wonder what he’ll think of her marking up the merchandise before he does.
I can’t pack anything because they’ll be onto me, but I do have some money stashed away. It’s not enough to go anywhere special, but it will get me a bus ticket out of town. Perhaps I can go to my godfather and ask him for help. He’s been sweet to me, or I could lie about why I’m there and get him to give me some money.
I open my bedroom window to see who is walking along the perimeter. I could climb down, but it’s not easy. That’s why my parents always make me wear dresses. The last time I tried to sneak out, I was fifteen and wearing jeans and sneakers. “Going somewhere?”
I didn’t hear my bedroom door open, but the deep voice behind me lets me know I’m not alone. It’s my father’s new guard. “Nowhere. Just checking the weather so I can determine what to wear.”
“You’re already dressed, Ms. Moreno, and you’re a terrible liar. If you’re considering escaping so you don’t have to marry Morozov, I can assist you.”
“You’re full of shit, so save your breath.”
“I’m not. Mr. Morozov is uninterested in a union with you.” His voice is stern, but kind, so I don’t feel as ill at ease as I did when we met this morning.
Crossing my arms and glaring at him, my eyes question him as much as my mouth does. “Are you certain?”
“I am.” Why does he sound so assured and why do I trust him?
I take a deep breath and weigh my odds. If I don’t take his offer, I have less than a zero chance of making it out of this prison, so I go with my gut. “How are we going to get out of here?”
“I assure you, it is quite easy.” He takes my hand and rests it on his arm. Then, he leads me out of my bedroom, where a guard is nearby. He gives the man a strange look, but it’s quickly masked before he leads me down the stairs and to the front door.
My father’s staff seems a lot smaller the past two days. I’m not sure exactly why, but there are very few men on the entire property. I wonder if he’s sent them all on some errand which isn’t unusual, but there seems to be a little less movement in and outside the house. They’re probably all setting up for my wedding reception in the large open-area backyard or something.
The man at the front door opens it as my escort says, “If anyone asks, Ms. Moreno would like to head to the church to discuss the wedding arrangements.” Our family has a church about ten minutes from the family compound, so that must be the one he’s speaking about. Although that’s not where we’re planning on going.
“Yes, understood.” The man nods and closes the door behind us.
I’m shocked, but they allow us to leave without a problem. Not one soul stops us as we make it to his vehicle and drive out the front gate.
My mouth falls open in pure awe. There would be no way I could have ever left the house on my own. The nice warm sun felt so good against my face that I’m almost saddened by the fact that we’re now in the car. “That was way too easy.”
“They know Mr. Morozov won’t like my orders to be denied. Now, where would you like me to take you?” I gave him the directions to my godfather’s building just north of downtown Chicago.
We sit in silence because I can’t trust anyone at present and frankly, he’s truly intimidating. He doesn’t bother to make small talk, and I’m grateful for it because it allows me to think.
We arrive at my godfather’s work and he pulls up to the curb and parks the vehicle. “Are you sure you’re going to be safe here?”
“Yes.” I don’t trust him any further. “You’ve done enough.”
He nods, and I enter the lobby and take the elevator to his accounting office. Someone gets off on three and I step off with them, forgetting myself. Shit. I have to wait and get back on. “What’s wrong with me?” I mutter, shaking my head.
