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Chapter Seven
It had been two weeks since the night of the frat party, and Dominic and I had barely spoken. He was never home, and when he was, I did what I could to give him a wide berth. I hated how lonely I felt. School was starting in a week, and though I was nervous about college, she couldn’t wait for an excuse to get out of the house. I hadn’t left since the night of the party.
Dominic had wanted to prove a point that night, and he had.
“You might want to look less miserable,” my husband said. We were spending the day together, but not because we wanted to, but because my parents had requested we come over for Sunday lunch.
“You don’t have to worry,” I said. “My parents could care less how I feel about this situation.”
I hadn’t reached out to my parents since the wedding. I didn’t see the point. Plus, I wasn’t a moron, despite what Dominic thought. I knew that I was being watched. I’m sure that his men weren’t just monitoring me physically, but also, my phone and my emails. It would explain how he knew where I had been the night of the party.
“I don’t need a war because your parents think that you are unhappy,” Dominic said.
We were driving to my parent’s house in one of his black Audi’s. He had a driver this time, which I found odd. Unlike my father, who was constantly surrounded by his men, I hadn’t seen Dominic’s men since our marriage.
I snorted. It was an unladylike sound, which would have likely earned me a slap in the face from my mother, but I couldn’t stop myself.
“I’m just a pawn in this game. You don’t have to worry about my happiness. Lord knows no one else does.”
I crossed my arms over the light beige dress I was wearing. It was another piece curated by my mother, and while the fabric was expensive and soft, I also realized that I looked like a forty year old woman versus an eighteen year old college student.
I knew that I was acting like a petulant child, but I couldn’t help it. It had only been two weeks since my wedding, and I felt lonelier than ever. I should have been happy that Dominic hadn’t bothered me. After all, I’d heard horror stories about women whose husbands beat them often as a way to keep them in line.
Dominic hadn’t touched me since he left me wet and panting in his passenger seat.
“Finally,” I muttered, as my parent’s home came into view. I wasn’t in the mood to sit at lunch with my family and watch them all pretend to like one another.
I felt Dominic shift next to me. Though we had been spending a great deal of time away from one another, when they were together, I used this time to examine Dominic. I noticed that he rarely showed emotion.
But something about this lunch was making him uncomfortable.
“Good afternoon Miss Petrov,” one of my father’s men said, as he opened the door to the car.
“It’s Blanchi,” Dominic’s deep voice called out.
The man’s face hardened, but he said nothing as I walked up the cobblestone walkway towards the front door.
“This is idyllic,” Dominic said. It was clear to me that he was trying to make conversation, but I wasn’t interested. If he wanted to have control over me, I wasn’t going to cooperate.
“Don’t be too fooled,” I said. “This place is locked down like Fort Knox.”
Dominic laughed slightly, and I hated the way that the sound made my stomach do some flips.
As we walked in, I was surprised by how little things had changed. The foyer still looked the same. Family photos lined the walls, and from first glance, you would think that this home belonged to a normal family.
“Milaya!” my father’s booming voice called out as he walked into the hallway. I couldn’t stop the smile that overtook my face as my father embraced me and kissed both of my cheeks.
“Hi, papa,” I said.
He pulled back from me slightly and began examining me. “You look thin,” he said.
I smiled, but it felt tight and disingenuous. I wanted to forget that I was in the situation I was in because of my father. He had always been my hero, but I couldn’t. I would never forget that he sold me and my future to our family’s enemy. Just like I wasn’t sure I could ever feel comfortable in my new role.
“I’m fine,” I said.
I could see that my father was about to say something more, but I wasn’t interested in this type of small talk. “Where’s mama?” I asked.
“She’s waiting for you in the salon,” he said.
