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My father smirks knowingly. “Then you better pray your girl can fight back because she’s going to have to if she wants to survive this.”
“You’re not trying to help her, are you?”
“Why would you ask that? I’m not a monster, Etienne,” he tells me. “I’m here to run the Sovereign in the best way I know how.” He stalks around his desk, making his way toward me. I half expect him to hug me, but my father isn’t that type of person.
He’s about to say something more when the door swings open and the gentle fragrance of honey and apples wafts through, along with the woman I know isn’t just my father’s assistant.
“Hello, Etienne,” she smiles at me when she reaches us. “It’s lovely to finally meet you.” Her words are melodic. She is the polar opposite of my mother: delicate, pretty, and young. My mother, on the other hand, is made of Botox and plastic; she comes from old money where being seen and noticed are what you strive for. The woman before me is nothing like that.
“Yeah, I don’t doubt you’ve heard all about me when I have no clue who you are.” Shrugging, I offer a salute to my father before turning on my heel and heading to the door. “See you tonight, make sure I’m not seated beside your arm candy.” I expect him to call me back to admonish me, but he doesn’t, and I breathe a sigh of relief.
This is a fucking joke.
My father may think he’s in love, but he’s just blinded by pussy. It doesn’t come easy, no emotions do. You work for that shit. It doesn’t fall into your lap. That’s why I know what I feel for Rukaiya is real, it’s not some flimsy bullshit that will end the moment she gets older.
And I’ll make her see it.
One way or another.
8
Rukaiya
The suite we’re staying in is exquisite, and I can only imagine the cost of this. My father’s been silent, brooding, and I wonder what he’s thinking. It wasn’t long after Etienne left that Dad returned from whatever meeting he’d had, and I wondered if he bumped into Etienne on the way in. However, his focus was on packing, getting on the flight and coming to Amsterdam.
I wanted to ask him to change his mind, to see if there’s another way, but I didn’t. I still recall the day my father asked me if I wanted to do ballet. My mother was still around when I was learning, and she’d always give me pointers and drive me to lessons; she always watched me with such love in her eyes.
After mom died, it was my only connection to her, so I kept dancing, up until I turned sixteen when Dad decided he’d had enough of my ‘prancing around.’ He forced me to focus on practical subjects, so I did, but deep down, I’d missed being on stage. I took to it easily, spinning on my toes, leaping into the air, and I loved the feeling of being free.
“You’ll practice over the next two days,” Dad tells me finally as I flop into the armchair. “I want this performance perfect. Dimitri is a fan of the ballet, and if you can charm him with your talents, I can get the information out of him.”
“What information?”
“That’s not for you to worry about. This is for your benefit; one day when I’m no longer here, you’ll have everything you’ve ever dreamed of.” He watches me for a response, a retort of anger, or perhaps something else, but I don’t offer it. I don’t want him to see my frustration.
Dad pours himself a drink, neat vodka from the small bar fridge that’s perched in the corner of our suite. No ice. He just gulps it down like it’s water. There’s only a small wince on his face before he turns to me again, pinning me with a glare.
Sighing, I nod and respond, “So you’re not selling me off to some random Russian man?” I shouldn’t goad him when he’s like this, but I’m at a point of no return. I’ve always been difficult with him, and I was never apologetic about it because I knew he didn’t love me the way a parent should love his child.
“If he offered me enough, perhaps I would.”
“Can I have my phone back?” I ask him gently, hoping he’ll at least give me one freedom back. When he walked into the apartment earlier, he took my phone and kept it. I know he was checking if I’d contacted anyone, but I didn’t. He made it clear I wasn’t to contact anyone in Tynewood, and I obeyed like the good daughter I am. But now that I’m almost done with this bullshit charade that he’s planning, I want my life back.
