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“Greedy, perhaps,” Danya answers before my father can reply. “But since you obviously care little for your father, I would suggest taking me up on the offer to be my bride. I will treat you with mor respect than he has, provided that you do the same to me. I believe that’s fair.”
The calmness of his voice is unnerving, but compared to my father, he appears almost saintly. He hasn’t laid a finger on me, whereas my father has backhanded me, kidnapped me, and tied me to a chair to be sold like a piece of meat.
What is he getting out of this? Money? At what point does a man decide it’s a good idea to do this to his own flesh and blood?
“It’s simple, Taylor,” my father says. “You agree to marry Danya, and you never have to deal with me again. You get to keep your expensive lifestyle, all those silly designer bags, and you don’t end up as a nobody on the streets, breaking your back to pay rent. It’s a cold world out there. I can promise you that.”
“You would disown me?” I ask.
He nods. “I will if you don’t marry Danya. I’m not forcing you to do anything. In fact, if you would like, Danya will cut you loose and you can go free. I’m just offering you a deal that’s going to ensure you don’t have to find out how the rest of the world lives.”
Suddenly, all the opportunities I’ve turned down in the past to get an education on my father’s dime seem like mistakes. I should’ve taken whatever I could get and run far away with it, but I was lazy and thought I could mooch off my father forever.
Clearly, that’s no longer the case, and I’m the greater fool for believing it ever was.
I look to Danya, trying to figure out if he’ll be worse to me than my father, based on my experiences with him so far. He’s certainly frightening, but there’s something else about him that draws me to him, something I’m dying to know more about. If I were to marry him, as insane as the idea sounds, what would I lose but a father who obviously doesn’t even love me?
Danya has money. That much is obvious. I wish it didn’t come down to that, but it’s not even that I’m spoiled. I would be helpless out there in the world on my own, and I seriously doubt I could ever return to what I have now.
My hands are tied, literally and figuratively.
Both men in the room wait for an answer from me, and I remain silent for as long as I can before relenting.
“I hope whatever Danya is giving you for this is worth it,” I finally say.
My father smiles. “Oh, it is.”
7
Danya
Icannot stand James, especially after seeing what he’s done to my precious flower’s face. Taylor doesn’t deserve to be treated that way. James mistakes brute force for true masculine power, but I will show Taylor that a real man can make her submit without even having to ask.
Once she has had the ability to wash off the grime that comes with being flown across the globe in a pair of panties and a cut-up airline blanket, I show her to her new room. She will be staying here until the wedding.
After that, she will sleep in the master bedroom with me.
She follows me timidly as I walk through the house, her bare feet making a little patter sound on the oak floor. I’ve already made it clear that she may leave at any time before the wedding, but she hasn’t made any attempt to do so. She knows that she’s better off in my hands than out in the streets.
“Your room is here, right across from the library,” I say, stopping at the door. “You will find many books there that you will be able to read. I would say maybe 25% of them are in English, but you are welcome to learn my language if you wish. It will be useful if you are to get fully acclimated here.”
She nods quietly, her eyes wide as she takes in her surroundings. She seems so sweet now, so vulnerable and humbled by her experience. I disagree with the way James brought her to me, but at least she isn’t throwing wine glasses and yelling at me anymore.
Of course, I can’t anticipate that she will stay this way, especially not once I’ve dealt with James, but that’s a battle for another day. For now, I will enjoy the peace and quiet.
I open the door to her room, ushering her inside. She gasps when she sees what I’ve had prepared for her. I bet she thought she was getting another prison cell, but I want her to experience paradise.
“Is this real?” she asks, brushing her foot over a rug made from Russian Sable fur.
“I am not in the business of buying cheap American plastics,” I reply. “Everything you see here is real.”
I know she’s already experienced luxury because of her father, but there’s a difference between trendy designer brands and priceless heirlooms passed down for generations. She will learn the difference quickly in due time.
Taylor spins around, holding her arms out and admiring the intricate details of the room. There’s art on every wall, and no dresser, table, or cabinet is without ornate hand carvings. Everything is thoughtfully produced and arranged.
“Wow,” she says, shaking her head. “This is really nice. I never learned what you did for a living, by the way.”
“Business,” I reply, waving my hand around as though it’s not the least bit important.
