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My father will never lay his hands on her.
She was mine first, and she will be mine last.
6
Vera
I don’t know how many times I’ve read his words. Again, and again, yet my body still responds the same way—with desire. Even though he promises pain, I have a feeling it’s more a warning of what he is capable of than what he will do to me.
I have a gut feeling about him. Something that hits deep in my soul, and I wonder if I know this man from somewhere else. He asked about my past, about the reason I believed my suitor didn’t want me. He listened so silently; I wonder if he was cursing the man who walked away from me.
I never knew why he left. My father never spoke of him again, but I know his friendship with the boy’s father was still strong after that day. I don’t recall why my father never unfriended the man afterward, but I remember the boy, Logan Phillip Oakridge. When I was older and I knew more about him, learning that he was known as the prince in Chicago, and his father a king of the criminal world, I was shocked. My father wouldn’t sell me off to someone like that, but when Herbert walked in, I realized my father would’ve given me to anyone just to keep them happy.
I sat in Dad’s office while he signed the agreement that I would become an Oakridge. I was a pawn in a game I had no experience playing. They all saw me as a little girl—innocent and stupid—yet they didn’t realize I’m as intelligent as they are. I knew how to do my homework—I would snoop into my father’s documents, read up all I could, and I taught myself what the business my dad dealt in truly was.
He had friends in bad places. They weren’t the average businessmen you saw walking into high rises in the city. They were the men who hid in the shadows until nightfall to take what wasn’t theirs to take.
I pick up the mug I set down earlier, taking a sip of the now-cold coffee. I can’t tear my gaze away from the computer screen, yet I’m zoning out, thinking back to all those times I found more and more information on what my father was doing.
When he got arrested, I wasn’t angry because I knew he wasn’t a good man. Anyone who works with Herbert isn’t good. But this stranger, he’s not like them. Then again, I don’t know if I can trust my gut right now.
SB: I want that, but . . . It’s only been two days. I wanted to see your face to know who you are. Is that so wrong since you know who I am? I’ve grown up around bad men, but when I was with you, near you, I didn’t get the feeling you were all that bad. Why do you persist on warning me away from you? I may only be twenty, but I’m far from stupid. I had to grow up fast, and I have a feeling you know more about that than you’re letting on. If you know so much about me already, you’ll know I’m hiding. I’m running from my past. But then again, so are you. Aren’t you?
I hit send, unsure what he’s going to say to that, but I want the truth. If he can’t give me that, then this ends right here. Confusion settles in my mind. I sip the coffee, wincing at the coolness of it, but I don’t get up to heat it or grab a new mug. Instead, I sit and watch the screen until the ding sounds.
BP: I know more about running than most. And yes, I do know you’re hiding. The question is—why would you trust me when you’re running from a man? What if I’m working for him? What if I hurt you, physically? I want nothing more than to steal you away, Beauty. I’d like to take you to a place where no one will ever find you, but the moment I do that, you’re putting your fragile life in my hands. Is that something you can live with?
He’s right. He still could hurt me, kill me even. But that would happen the moment Herbert walks in here and takes me anyway. A man like that won’t accept that a woman doesn’t want him. He’s ruthless, but I have a feeling this man, this stranger, is not the same. I can’t explain what I feel for my Broken Prince.
SB: Then, I’ll take my chances with you rather than him. You don’t understand the danger my life is already in. You may know things about me, but you can never fathom the perils I could face if these people find me. Do you work for him? Perhaps. Would you kill me? Maybe. But you had the chance only hours ago, yet you didn’t take it. Why is that?
