You Belong With Me

by Kristen Proby

  You Belong With Me

  A With Me in Seattle Novel

  Kristen Proby

  Ampersand Publishing, Inc.

  Contents

  Title Page

  Dedication

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Epilogue

  With Me In Seattle Character Glossary

  Newsletter Sign Up

  Also by Kristen Proby:

  About the Author

  You Belong With Me

  A With Me In Seattle Novel

  By

  Kristen Proby

  YOU BELONG WITH ME

  A With Me In Seattle Novel

  Kristen Proby

  Copyright © 2020 by Kristen Proby

  All Rights Reserved. This book may not be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission from the author. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. All characters and storylines are the property of the author and your support and respect are appreciated. The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

  * * *

  Cover Design: By Hang Le

  Cover photo: Eric Battershell Photography

  * * *

  Published by Ampersand Publishing, Inc.

  Dedication

  This book is for Rachel Van Dyken, without whom it may not have come to fruition.

  Thank you for your encouragement, and your friendship.

  I love you.

  Prologue

  ~Elena~

  Twelve Years Ago

  I’ve always hated this room. My father’s office is grand, full of honey oak bookcases, a massive chandelier, and a desk in the center of the space that’s bigger than the bed I sleep on. Floor-to-ceiling windows are at his back and look out over the estate that he insisted on but, in large part, ignores.

  Whenever I’m due for a massive lecture, this is where he drags me.

  “May I please speak with you?”

  “What is it?” He doesn’t look up from his computer, which doesn’t surprise me. Paying attention to his daughter has never been a priority for this man. I’ll just share my news and go straight to my room, pack my things, and be out of here for good.

  I can almost smell the freedom. I can’t wait to move in with my husband. My husband. That word makes me want to spin in circles of excitement. Archer and I will make a home and have babies. His family is wonderful, and there will be so much love in our household. Our kids will never question whether we love them. They’ll never be afraid. And when the time comes, they’ll be able to marry whomever they please.

  “I got married.” I square my shoulders and lift my chin. “Three days ago.”

  I’m not afraid of my father. Not now. But my stomach quivers with butterflies. I’m eighteen years old. An adult. And I’m able to make my own decisions without influence from my parents.

  What can he do? What’s done is done.

  He looks up from his desk, and his cold eyes narrow.

  “And who, exactly, did you marry, Elena?”

  “Archer Montgomery.”

  He sets his pen aside and leans back in his big, black chair, silently watching me. His calculating stare makes me want to squirm, but I hold steady.

  “Isn’t that the boy I told you to stop seeing a year ago?”

  “He’s a good man, Dad. If you’d just give him a chance—”

  He stands and paces behind the desk, looking out the windows and shoving his hands into his pockets.

  Maybe he’ll just tell me to leave. That would be the best-case scenario.

  “What is your last name, Elena?”

  “Montgomery.”

  “Don’t.” His voice isn’t loud, but it’s firm.

  “Watkins.”

  He turns and stares at me impassively. “That’s right. And that last name, along with the Martinellis’, holds more weight than you can ever fully understand. It means that, as my daughter, you don’t have the freedom to marry whomever you choose, whenever you decide to do it.”

  “I’m an adult.”

  “You’re my daughter!”

  I blink at the spurt of anger. He’s not impassive now. His eyes shoot daggers at me, and sweat breaks out across my skin.

  “Dad, I love him.”

  He shakes his head and waves off my comment as if it’s an annoying fly buzzing around his head.

  “We’ll have it annulled immediately.”

  “No.”

  He lifts an eyebrow. I’ve never told my father no. I don’t think anyone in his life ever has.

  No one would dare.

  “Excuse me?”

  I lift my chin again. “No.”

  He stalks around his desk and grips my arm just above my elbow, almost painfully, and drags me through the house, up the stairs, and into my bedroom.

  “You’re putting me in time out?”

  “I should have done this a long time ago. You’re too spoiled. Too indulged. You think you can defy me, go against what’s best for the family like this?” We keep moving quickly through the room to my closet, where he pulls a sash off my robe, yanks my arms above my head, and ties me to the light fixture in the middle of the room. He steps back, barely breathing hard. “This is where you’ll stay until you come to your senses.”

  And then he walks out.

  “Wake up.”

  I open my eyes and moan in pain. My shoulders are screaming. My hands are numb.

  “Uncomfortable?” my father asks.

  I don’t reply.

  “Was sixteen hours enough time for you to reevaluate your decisions?”

  “Dad.” I lick my lips. My voice isn’t whiny. I’m not a little girl begging for a pony. I’m a grown woman, trying to reason with another adult. “What’s done is done. We’re married. We love each other. I didn’t do anything to hurt anyone, and I didn’t want to defy you. If you’d just give him a chance, I know you’d like him.”

  “It’s not about liking him, daughter.” He sits on my bench. He’s in his usual uniform of slacks, a dress shirt, and a tie. He wears this every day of his life. “You’re betrothed to Alexander Tarenkov. You’ve known that since you were twelve.”

  “I’ve never met that man in my life.”

  “It doesn’t matter.”

  “This is ridiculous. I’m not marrying a stranger. This is the twenty-first century. Women can marry who they want.”

  “Not mafia women.”

  “I didn’t choose this.”

  “It’s a privilege,” he insists. “You were blessed with this by birthright, whether you like it or not.”

  “I’m not divorcing Archer. I’m not giving him up, no matter what you say.” I’m breathing hard now. The tears want to come, but I will them back. Just the thought of losing Archer sends searing pain through my heart. I can’t live without him.

  I won’t.

  “You’ll do as you’re told.”

  “No.”

  “There’s that word again.” There’s an edge to his voice now. One I haven’t heard bef
ore. “I’m not fond of it.”

  “Well, get used to it.”

  “I didn’t raise you to be disrespectful to your father.”

  “You didn’t raise me. Grandma did. Nannies did. Not you. And certainly not that pitiful excuse for a woman who gave birth to me.”

  He stands and walks to me. His face is inches from mine, and I can smell the coffee on his breath.

  “You will watch your tongue.”

  “Or what?”

  He rears his hand back as if he’s going to slap me, but I stare him in the eye and tilt my head.

  “You won’t hurt me. The mafia doesn’t hurt their women, remember?”

  But he does. He follows through and slaps me across the face. The coppery taste of blood fills my mouth.

  “I’m not just your father,” he says calmly as he walks away and sets a briefcase I didn’t see earlier on the bench. He snaps it open. “I’m a mob boss. I’m the one who protects the family, who oversees everything. Did you think I didn’t know about you and Archer?”

  My stomach jumps, but I don’t reply.

  I watch as my father unbuttons the sleeves of his shirt and rolls them up to his elbows. He unfastens the top button of his collar and then loosens his tie before taking it off.

  He removes his Rolex and sets it aside, and then pulls his long, salt-and-pepper hair back at the nape of his neck.

  “I know every move you make, daughter.” He glances over his shoulder at me. “I gave you some slack to have your little romance. It kept you occupied, and you’re right, Archer comes from a good family. You were safe.

  “But to have the audacity to run off and get married when you knew it would be forbidden? That, I can’t forgive. I’ve been too soft on you. The annulment is already in the works.”

  “I won’t sign it.”

  He laughs now. “Do you think I need you to sign it? Elena, you disappoint me.”

  “I’ll just marry him again. You can’t keep us apart.”

  He sighs and reaches into the briefcase and pulls out a whip. It’s long and well-worn.

  “Dad.”

  He circles the room, walking around me. He rips my T-shirt in two, exposing my back, then returns to dragging the whip, flicking it with his wrist as if he’s warming up.

  He’s just scaring me.

  I’m so sick of this shit! Just let me leave so I can be with Archer!

  He walks behind me, and to my utter shock and horror, he cracks that whip across my back, sending crazy, searing pain throughout my body.

  “That’s one,” he says, his voice as calm and cool as glass.

  I can’t believe it. He hurt me.

  “What’s best for the family is always the priority,” he says and lashes the whip over my back again, making me cry out in pain this time. “You know this. You know.”

  “I love him,” I whisper, and am rewarded with another lash of the whip.

  “Do you think I give a fuck?”

  More lashes. He counts ten, then pauses and punches my face. I see stars when he hits me square on the nose, and then he picks the whip back up and counts another ten lashes. And when he’s done, and I can no longer cry or speak, he simply rolls up the whip and tucks it into his briefcase.

  I can’t stand anymore. I’m hanging by my useless, dead hands. I can feel the warm blood trickling down my back, soaking my shorts. Blood also runs down my face, and my eyes are swollen.

  “It looks like you need more time to think.” His voice is calm again. His impassive eyes roam over my face before he turns and walks out, leaving me alone once more.

  The lights come on, blinding me.

  “The annulment is complete.”

  My back sings in pain, as does my face. I have a headache the size of Texas. I can’t see well.

  But I’m going to live through this, and then I’m going to leave. I’m going to run away with Archer. We can live anywhere.

  “I can get married again.”

  “Tsk tsk.” He sets a laptop on the bench and opens it, then taps some keys. Suddenly, a video of Archer fills the screen. “Looks like he’s having lunch with his sister.”

  Archer and Anastasia.

  “This is live,” Dad continues as if we’re having a conversation about the weather. “Oh, see this man here?”

  He points to the corner of the screen where a man I recognize as one of my father’s goons sits at a table nearby.

  “He’s armed and has been given the command to kill them both when they leave this restaurant if you don’t make the right decision. Right here, right now.”

  My eyes fly to his in shock.

  “You wouldn’t kill him.” My voice is like sandpaper.

  “You underestimate me, little girl. Even after the beating I handed out last night, you still underestimate me. Did you think I’d let you walk out of here and go off with him? Or let you sneak away?”

  I can’t reply. My eyes are on the man I love as he laughs with Anastasia. Oh, how I wish I was with them.

  “I can’t believe you’re doing this.”

  “You have two choices. Either he dies, or you do what you were born to do and think of what’s best for your family.”

  Archer is my family!

  “Either way,” he continues, “you won’t be with him. You just need to decide if he lives or dies.”

  “This is so fucked-up.”

  “Quite,” he agrees. And when I look into his eyes, I can see that he’s enjoying himself.

  He wants to hurt me.

  He’s getting off on it.

  And I don’t doubt that he’d kill Archer just to fuck with my head.

  “Fine.” I lick my bloody lip and feel everything inside myself break. I feel my heart die. How will I go on without Archer? How will I live for the rest of my life without him in it? But Archer losing his life isn’t an option. I have to keep him safe. “You win.”

  “There.” Father closes the laptop with a satisfied snap. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

  I expect him to untie me, but he turns away and picks up a lighter and lets the flame lick the big ring he wears with a prominent W on it. He doesn’t wear a wedding band, but he’s worn that stupid, gaudy ring every day of his life.

  I want to shove it down his throat and let him choke on it.

  “And this is so you always remember who it is that you belong to.”

  Before I can do anything, he presses the hot metal to my skin, high on my thigh, and I scream in pain as he brands me.

  He fucking branded me!

  I want to claw out his eyes. I want to spit in his face. But I go limp as a rag and wait as he unties my hands and helps me fall to a heap on the floor.

  “I’ll send a nurse up to tend to those wounds,” he says. “And, Elena, if I find out that you have any words with Archer aside from breaking it off, or if you try to see him, I will kill him.”

  I watch his feet as he walks out of my closet, and then I curl in on myself, crying harder than I ever have in my life. Not from the open wounds on my back, or the burning flesh on my thigh.

  No, the pain of losing Archer forever is far worse than any physical pain could ever be.

  “Hey.”

  I’m holding the phone close to my ear, eager to soak in every word we say, even though they’re going to be painful. He’s going to hate me before this call is over.

  “Where the hell are you, E? I haven’t heard from you in days. A man shouldn’t go that long without talking to his wife, you know?”

  I close my eyes. Wife. Oh, how I long to be his spouse. To truly be his until the end of time.

  “Yeah, we need to talk about that, Archer. We were really impulsive.”

  “Planned it for three months,” he reminds me. “I don’t think that’s impulsive.”

  “Well, it was for me. You know, I think I just got really caught up in the idea of getting married and everything, but now that I’ve had time to think it over, I don’t think this is what I want at all.”

 
He’s quiet for a moment. I want to scream, I’M LYING! HE’S MAKING ME DO THIS TO US!

  But I can’t.

  “What are you saying, E? Do you want to go back to dating?”

  “No.” I swallow hard and hate myself for what I’m about to say. “No, I think it’s best if we just go ahead and part ways now. Clean break. I’m sorry if I hurt you, Archer, but it’s really what I want.”

  “I can’t believe this.”

  I have to push my hand against my sore mouth so I don’t sob out loud.

  “You’re breaking up with me?”

  “Yeah. I’m just too young to be tied down, you know? I need to experience life and spend some time alone. You’re just not what I want, Archer.”

  “But we’re married.” I can hear him pacing on the other end of the line.

  “It can be annulled.” Even the word tastes bitter in my mouth. It’s the last thing I want, but my father was right. Neither of us needs to sign anything for the mob boss of the Watkins family to make it happen.

  There’s a beat of silence and then he hangs up without saying goodbye. I’ve just broken his heart, and I hate myself for it.

  I hate my family. My father especially.

  Rage flows through me, swift and hot. When it burns out, I feel…nothing. I’ll never let anyone hurt me like this again.

  Chapter 1

  ~Elena~

  Beep! Beep! Beep!

  I roll over and kill the alarm. I’ve been awake for at least an hour already, lying in my warm, cozy bed, watching the sky turn from black to purple to blue. I’ve always been an early riser, which is why my job is so perfect for me.