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“But they’ll be whores,” one of the men announces.
“They will,” I say, speaking for the first time. “They’ll work for me.”
Rostam’s gaze flicks to mine and he stares at me for a long, silent moment. “When do you need an answer?” he asks, his eyes continuing to focus on mine.
I could answer him, but I let Osip. Because at the end of the day, Osip is thePakhan. “Discuss it with your people. Come to me when you can.”
Rostam nods his head a couple of times, then he turns to me again. “And you? Have you thought about my proposal?”
I open my mouth to tell him my answer when the door to the office flies open. I turn around to see Isabel standing there, her face bruised and bloodied.
ISABEL
Something is very wrong.I feel it before Rostam and his wives leave. After dinner, the women and men separate. The men go outside likely to discuss business, something that they will not do in front of the women and we make our way into the living room to socialize.
Donya and Maryam take this time to interview Ziba. I don’t say a word. I watch them, listen to them and wish that I could warn the girl. Though my warnings wouldn’t mean shit, because she doesn’t have a decision in any of this. No fucking decision, just like I didn’t, just like none of us did.
Interviewing her is worthless too. Because it’s not like if Donya doesn’t like her that she will be able to sway Azar into not marrying her. He wants her for a reason and he’s going to have what he wants. He always does.
Rostam’s wives chat among one another, they’ve made it very clear that they do not want to become friends with any of us. They are here because Rostam brought them and they must be cordial, but they do not give a fuck about any of us.
Pressing my lips together, I decide to just look down at my lap. I don’t bother joining in the conversation at all. It feels like we sit there for hours while the women all talk around me. Nobody tries to say anything to me and I’m okay with that.
It’s typical.
Normal even.
The back door slams shut. It slams so hard it rattles the walls. My entire body jumps. I look up to see Rostam marching toward us, Azar behind him. Azar’s eyes find mine and they are full of hatred. Pure unadulterated hatred.
Rostam doesn’t even look at me. In fact, he ignores me completely and I don’t know if that’s to save me or maybe because he’s betrayed me. Either way, I feel completely unnerved about what is happening around me.
I stay where I am, unmoving as everyone shifts around me. Donya and Maryam disappear into the kitchen as soon as Rostam and his wives leave, taking Ziba with them to drop her off at home with her family.
When we are alone in the living room, only then does Azar speak to me. His anger has already filled up the entire space though. I know that he’s angry. I can practically see, smell, and taste it surrounding me.
“Go to your room,” he announces.
I feel like a child who is being scolded, and that is no doubt how he essentially sees me. He has no love for me. I am a possession and nothing more.
Standing slowly, I wonder what I have done to anger him and at the same time, I think that I already know. But I’m not going to admit anything, because I’m not sure exactly what Rostam has told him.
Once I’m in my bedroom, I turn around to see him standing just inside of the space. His arms are crossed over his chest, he’s looking down his nose at me and his legs are spread apart, and his feet are planted firmly on the floor.
“Do you have anything you need to tell me?” he asks.
It’s a trick question. I know that it is, and I refuse to answer it, so I don’t. Instead, I press my lips together in my own brand of defiance. Inhaling deeply through my nose, I let it out slowly, keeping my lips together as I do.
“Nothing?” he asks. “Maybe Rostam was wrong then to tell me that he was going to take you from me and give you back to your people. That you wanted to go. That he wanted me to sign his document to do just that.”
Shit.
He threw me under the bus, but why?
I don’t understand it at all. Why would he do that… do this to me?
Shifting my weight from foot to foot, I flick my gaze past him to the open door and wonder if I can make it past him without being caught in his grasp. I know that I won’t. He’ll grab me before I get too far. I already know it.
My eyes tear up, which is really not doing any good for my innocence. He definitely thinks that I’m guilty now. His lips curve up into a grin and his face changes. It’s not a good change either, it’s terrifying actually.
I hold my breath as he reaches behind him and slams the door shut. “So you want to leave me?” he asks.
Shaking my head, I wonder if there’s any way that I can save this situation. I don’t think fast enough. I take a step backward, unable to think, unable to breathe. He advances and then I let out a cry as his hand comes toward my face, not just his hand but his balled-up fist.
