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My God, how many men are guarding this house?
Finding the staircase, she gripped the ornate bannister and about half way down the winding descent, she caught the sound of background music. Glancing out the windows as they passed the great room, with her pumps tapping rhythmically on the hardwood floors, she noticed two guards on the deck and beyond the bannistered rails, a red and yellow sunset all but devoured by the rugged mountains.
Entering a massive dining hall, she saw a man seated at the head of the table which occupied the room. Silver candelabras adorned an elegant lace table cloth, the smell of food enticing. He rose to his feet, his head neatly shaved, his dark mahogany eyes which perfectly matched his complexion reflecting the flames.
“Donja,” he beamed, with perfectly squared teeth polished a ghostly white. “My name is Garret.” He waltzed from the head of the table, cutting the distance between them, a giant of a man, regal and handsomely dressed in an expensive, three-piece suit. “You look even more beautiful than I imagined,” he said, then softly kissed her cheek. Towering over her, he pulled out her chair. A bit stunned, she sat down as he tucked her in. He took his seat and as if on cue, a young man, eighteen, perhaps twenty, with a long blonde mane bound tight into a dangling tail approached and served their plates, followed by crystal stem chalices filled with red wine. Donja noticed that in addition to both their plates, the young man set a third, directly across from her. After a nod from Garret, the young man backed away and took a stance like a store front mannequin, blue eyes gazing at nothing.
“Zaroc, my son, is running a bit late,” Garret stated with a sickening tone of graciousness that forced her gut to clench. “He’s actually tying up a few loose ends with Jonas who graciously arranged your trip.” He paused with quirky smile. “I just hate the word abduction.” He unfolded his white, cloth napkin with a glance that washed over her so quickly that she felt chilled. “Is your food satisfactory?”
Donja felt her temper flare, but bit her tongue, eyes locked on her plate of roast beef, potatoes and broccoli. She took note of a salad and what appeared to be fresh baked yeast bread and though plagued by anger, decided it might be best to eat before coiling to strike. She tried to control herself, but his choice of words, his demeanor, everything about him set her on edge and without thinking, she said, “Well, Garret, you’ll have to excuse me if I don’t find your choice of words appropriate.”
He raised a brow. “What’s that, my dear?”
She exhaled, fighting for control. “I just mean that you speak of my trip here, which was nothing short of kidnapping like—”
“Like it was meant to be,” he laughed robustly and disgusted by his boisterous display, Donja could only stare in silent rage. He cocked his head with a demanding presence, eyes staring right through her. “You’ll get over it.” he smirked. “And let’s cut the formalities. Call me Dad.”
“Dad?” Her lips trembled.
“But of course, I’ll soon be your father-in-law.”
Her cheeks burned and then she spied the butter knife beside her plate. She suppressed the desire to sink it in his chest and instead met his stolid gaze. “For the record, my Dad’s dead and as for your son, forget it, I won’t marry him, not now, not ever.”
His eyes narrowed as a wicked smile spread upon his face. “Oh, but you will.”
Donja gripped the table defiantly. “And if I refuse?”
His demeanor shifted. “How is young Frankie?”
Donja gasped. She gripped the table and as her shock gave way to anger, her eyes narrowed. “You keep my brother out of this.”
“Temper, temper,” he smiled.
“You dare touch my brother and I swear…”
His demeanor flipped. “You swear!”
He clicked his fingers and the young man who served their food walked over and knelt on his knees.
Garret casually leaned forward and placed his hands on either side of the boy’s cheeks. The boy closed his eyes, yet Donja noticed he trembled.
Garret turned and winked at Donja then snapped the boy’s neck as if it were nothing.
Donja jumped up and screamed. She turned to run from the dining hall, but two burly guards were at the door. She turned back and watched as Garret leaned back in his chair and chuckled. “Please, my little firebrand, tell me more about what a badass you are.”
Donja swallowed.
“Now I suggest you sit down for our meal,” Garret said.
Donja walked back to the table, horrified. She locked her eyes upon him. He was a psychopath obviously accustomed to getting his way. She thought about Frankie, swallowed hard and sat down.
“Good girl,” Garret said, “I’m glad to see you understand the situation.”
One of the guards came in, threw the boy’s body over his shoulder and marched away.
“Well, where were we?” Garret said, his voice like honey. “Oh yes, you wanted to know if you could call me Dad.”
Hearing footsteps, with her heart in her throat, Donja watched as the young man she had met earlier came strolling toward them, dressed in a white silk shirt beneath a navy vest with tight slacks to match.
