Blake brings my hand to his lips. He stares at me, eyes full of compassion and hurt.
“When you came to the office and said what you did, I was helpless. I was that little girl again. Powerless and unable to stop another man from doing with my life as he wanted.”
Blake’s arms are strong around me. He traces my bare arm, and I shiver. He smiles. I feel his nose on my cheek, and I think I could rest this way in his arms forever. I feel protected, and it’s a feeling I have never had. The warmth of it circles around me and helps me to process everything I’ve been going through—everything I went through.
“I saw the bruise on your arm.” His fingers rest on my forearm and press gently. “I was angry and knew that I would take you from there. I knew if the money was right, your father wouldn’t hesitate. When I left you there, angry, hurt, I told your father that if he bruised you one more time, I would call his note in immediately and kill him.”
I close my eyes. So that is why my father didn’t dare hit me that night. I place my hand on his cheek, and we rest in quiet.
“I wish I could take your pain, Marina. I wish I could heal you. But one thing I can promise is that I will never harm you. You will have whatever you want that is within my power to give you.” His voice is a whisper and a promise.
And I know this to be true. “Whatever I wish for?” I’ve never had a promise such as this.
“If it is within my power,” he repeats, but his eyes close in pain again, as if he is waiting to hear what it is I wish.
Because at this moment, I know he would do what I asked of him. If I so asked for the thing I had wished for, he would honor that promise. But I’m not sure what I wished for is what I want any longer. I remain silent, enjoying the closeness with no expectations. I enjoy his strength without feeling threatened. I enjoy the press of his lips against my cheek without him seeking more. I enjoy his constraint.
Too soon, our limo ride is cut short, and we are pulling under the carport. Blake rights me onto the seat and kisses my cheek as the Limo door opens. He helps me out, and something has shifted between us. Something is different now, and while it’s frightening for me, it also elates me. Maybe this gilded cage isn’t so bad. After all, the door has always been wide open.
I had been the only one keeping me inside.
I WAKE UP LATE IN THE morning, feeling better than I have in a long time. Blake had walked me to my room like a true gentleman and kissed my cheek, telling me goodnight. I had entered in a daze and dizziness of happiness. I squirmed out of my dress and propped it over the mini counter, idly thinking that Brad will say something about that to me.
My thoughts stray to Blake and our discussion last night. As scared as I was to tell him, it was also a relief. I had bottled that up for so long. He had been angry, but not at me. He didn’t call me a whore. He didn’t blame me for the actions of another. He was angry and yet had comforted—me. He didn’t press me for more than I was willing to give him. Oh, I felt what he wanted, rising underneath my bottom as he held me. But he never pushed me. He never took advantage. He never overpowered me. He held me—gently, securely. Safely. And that meant more to me than the gentle kisses we shared. His anger at my treatment meant more to me than any fine treatment he has thus far shown me.
He cared about me.
I get out of bed and see my dress lying where I left it in my dressing room. I trace the lace and smile. It had been fun to dress up and be a Princess for the night. I hang up the dress, which will need to be laundered. I idly wonder if Brad will declare it Last Season and smile. I hope not. I like this dress. I flip through the hangers and find a pair of dress pants, a dressy blouse, and some flats. I lay them out and then head to the shower. I towel dry my hair and leave it loose and then dress. I leave my face void of makeup and wonder what my day has in store for me. As I study myself in the mirror, I see that I look relaxed. Happy, even. And for the first time, I realize that I truly am.
Downstairs is cheery and bright, and I am alone. I glance at the clock, and it shows me it's almost noon. I make my way to the kitchen. Shen is there, magically waiting for me. I greet him, and he prepares me something to eat. He asks about my night, and I tell him the highlights. He asks if I remembered what Brad had told me, and I assure him I had. Shen hands me a plate of something wonderful, and I use the manners Brad taught me. Shen smiles, and then his eyes flick beyond me. He dips his chin a bit and leaves.
“Sleep well?”
I smile at his voice. “Yes.” I don’t turn around, and he slides into a seat beside me.
“Would you like to come to work with me today?” His voice is low—unsure?
I face him with a smile. “Yes.” He seems to relax, as if he wondered if I would say no. Excitement flares within me to see his office.
“It’s a boring box of an office,” he warns me. “Not impressive at all.”
“I don’t care,” I answer his challenge. “Should I change?”
“You’re perfect.”
I CAN’T KEEP THE DOPEY smile off my face as we ride in the back of the Bentley to his office. Because of this shift between us, I’m at ease with him and can relax. I find I trust him, something I hadn’t done last week. I sit closer to him as we ride to his office and take his hand. He is pleased, placing a kiss on the back of it. Soon, he has his arm around me, and I lean into him, feeling safe for the first time in my life. I like this feeling, and I want to hold on to it for as long as I can.
We pull into an underground parking area and ride up in a personal elevator, locked and secure only for him. I watch as he punches in a code on the wall, and the doors slide open. In silence, we ride to one of the top floors, and when the doors slide open once again, I am duly impressed with the foyer. It seems he spared no expense in the décor and structure of this wing.
“Do you own this whole building?” I whisper.
“I do. And I rent or lease out the other levels.”
He leads me down a long hallway to a spacious corner office. There is a woman seated at a desk, behind a half-counter partition who greets Blake. He leans in and asks her a question that she affirms. I look around the entire area until I feel Blake at my side again. He leads me into his office and so intent am I in looking around his office that it takes me a moment to discover we are not alone. I see my father sitting, waiting for us in a comfortable chair. My steps falter, and I feel the press of Blake’s hand at my back.
“It’s okay, Marina,” his soothing voice assures me. “Come, you will sit beside me.”
I take a steadying breath, wondering why my father is here and confused why Blake did not tell me my father would be here. There are two chairs behind his desk and I sit in the comfortable seat beside Blake, whose very presence commands the room and the attention within. My father is looking at me, assessing me, and I tremble a bit. I try to find my inner strength, the strength I get from Blake, and stare back, trying to look unconcerned, but my heart is fluttering.
“You wanted to see me, Mr. Harland?” My father’s voice wavers a bit. He looks curiously between Blake and me, searching for—something. He does not look happy, but I’m not sure I’ve ever seen him look happy. Blake does not answer right away, and my father grows impatient. Blake continues to make exaggerated slow movements and further agitates my father. Despite being here with Blake, I feel the familiar fear creep into me. When my father gets like this, things do not go well for me. I hitch a breath, and my father catches it. A quirk of his lips, a look in his eye, and I’m that frightened young girl again. I forget Blake is beside me as I drop down and backward in time until Blake’s hand goes to my knee, his movements hidden by the desk, which separates me from my father.
At Blake’s squeeze, my gaze tears away from my father and slides to Blake’s handsome face, comforting me. My features relax, and a smile tugs at the corner of my mouth. A smile for him. Only for him. I cover his hand and squeeze back. Our eyes meet, and I see him then. I feel his strength, see his assurance, and he turns back to m
y father, his eyes like ice.
“Adelfo,” Blake says, finally addressing my father.
“Mr. Harland,” my father cuts in, “I’m sorry she’s not working out. But please don’t call in the loan. I understand if you have to get rid of her.”
I hold my breath as my father glares at me, and I cast a quick glance at Blake, who looks as if he is going to jump across the desk and strangle him. I feel his body vibrate with anger, and I had not thought Blake’s eyes could look as terrifying as they do right now.
“Listen to me very carefully.” Blake’s voice is low and dangerous. His eyes pierce into my father. “I will never ‘get rid of’ Marina. She is mine. However, as far as your loan goes, I have placed Marina in charge of it. She alone determines your fate now.”
My father swallows convulsively, and he seems to wilt and pale as Blake releases his eyes. I can’t take my eyes from Blake, who nods to me reassuringly. Part of me wished he had given me a heads up. The other part of me wants to jump over, throw my arms around him, and kiss him. Just like that, the power my father has had over me is broken. I hold it now. I can break him. I can hurt him as he has done to me. I can hit him—where it hurts.
I drag my eyes from this man I am caring for a little more than even before. A feeling buds within my chest, and I see that behind the words he hasn’t always said, there have been actions. Small things he has done to make me feel safe—loved. In fact, as alone in the home I have been, he’s always been there, bringing his comfort and including me in small aspects of his life so as not to frighten me.
I stare at my father, whose eyes transform from worry to that glare I grew up with, trying to intimidate me. He’s angry that I now hold the power and worried I will pay him back for everything he has allowed to happen to me and everything that he has done to me. And yes, I want to destroy him. I want to pay him back and hurt him and make him whimper in the corner and lick his wounds—and just when he thinks he’s safe—I want to hit him again and renew those bruises. But as I stare at him, assessing him, I truly see what sits in front of me—a withered old man—wilted and frail. His clothes hang on his body, ill-fitting, unkempt. He is already hurting—he is already a squashed little bug. The restaurant is his last legacy of making something great out of himself, and he can’t even do that correctly. The life that had been my hell is something he clings to as his last semblance of a successful life.
He should be making money off his restaurant, and instead, he has taken out loan after loan and worked to pay those off rather than making a profit. He’s broke even over and over, never getting ahead. He’s lost me—his free labor—and quite possibly has hired another waitress, losing more money in the hiring process.
I watch him as he watches me, wondering what I am going to do. Wondering if I am going to exact my revenge. I would be lying if I said I didn’t want to. Of course, I want to see him suffer, fail, falter, and—die. Just as I had wanted to. Just as I had tried to get Blake to do to me. I sense Blake’s eyes on me, supporting me in whatever decision I make. I know, without asking, that he knows what war is going on inside of me.
I turn to Blake, his hand resting palm down on his desk. I reach over and take it as my father watches the movement. It’s been only a week since I married this man, and I’d be lying if I said he didn’t get through to me. It took less time than I thought it would have after I woke up the day after our wedding. I am a bit surprised and yet comforted that I was not so broken that I couldn’t be healed.
I turn back to my father, who is frowning at my display of affection to Blake, and I realize he had hoped the marriage wouldn’t last even as he needed it to. I grasp my husband’s hand tighter and feel his reassurance seeping into my fingers, my hand, up my arm, and into my heart. And as I stare into those blue eyes, I realize that not only has something shifted between us, but that he loves me. I turn my face from Blake’s and meet my father’s eyes as I study him yet again. He’s holding his breath, scared, but he’s confident that I will be that frightened little girl and still do what he wants. And at that moment, I know what I have to do to break this hold he has over me. Impatiently, I know he’s waiting for me to speak.
“I will leave the loan as it stands for now. But I am adding a condition. Only one, and it will be easy for you.” I blow out a quiet breath to steady myself. This is the power Blake has given me. This is the power I now have. “You will never contact me again. As you are dead to me, I am dead to you.”
And just like that, I wield my power over him, and it feels better than flailing at him with my fists or hoping for his demise. I kicked him out of my life, and I have the power to keep him out. I’m free from him—his manipulation. I never have to see him again, and I realize a part of me had been holding onto this fear. The fear had been with me when I moved out three years ago. It hovered over me that I wouldn’t make it on my own and would have to crawl back. That when Blake wouldn’t kill me like I wanted, the marriage would dissolve, and I would have to go crawling back to this man sitting before me. That I wouldn’t be good enough in this marriage and be thrust back into my hell. Cast out. Forced to fend for myself and deal with my father.
My father looks relieved, but he casts a worried look at Blake. I release Blake’s hand and put mine in my lap. I want to cry. I want to laugh. I want to dance around the office like a loony woman. I barely hear what Blake has to say to my father, who shakily nods his head with a few ‘yes, sirs’ in there. I watch him rise quickly, and he can’t leave the office quick enough. The door shuts, and it is quiet in the office. I close my eyes to the peacefulness of it all. I won’t have to hear his voice shouting my name. I won’t have to listen to his fists pounding on my flesh, meeting my bones. I won’t have to listen to his curses as he tells me how worthless I am.
My eyes open, and I turn my face to Blake, who watches me without expression. I take his hand and press his palm to my lips, meeting his eyes and sinking into them. And I realize that in this short amount of time we’ve been married, and in all that I goaded him to do, and in all my defiance, he still treated me kindly and respectfully—honorably. I’m free because of this man, and suddenly, I know that I know.
I’m in love.
Blake
AFTER WE RETURNED FROM the fundraiser, I walked her to her room, wanting to join her inside. We stood outside her bedroom door like we had just been on the most expensive date. I suppose, in a way, we had been. We spoke of nothing and everything. She lingered at the doorway, her hand on the doorknob, ready to open it yet trying to extend the moment. A smile played about my lips, even as it did hers. Something had shifted between us, and I am glad for it.
And suddenly, I was the scared one. What if she invited me in? Then what? I knew what I wanted to do. Would she know what she wanted to do? Would she be okay with it? What if I was not what she truly wanted? And the insecurity I saw in her, I felt it in myself. My self-assured demeanor slipped away at the fear of her inviting me inside. Shyly, hesitantly, she turned her face to me and kissed my cheek. In moments, she had slipped inside her bedroom, and the door shut softly behind her.
I stayed rooted to my spot for a minute. It happened so quickly I was not sure what to do with myself for a moment. But then our conversation came back to me as I wandered down the hall to my suite. I realized she needed something more than just my touch and kind words. She needed her freedom. She needed closure. Yes, I wanted to kill her father. But in the end, what good is that? She had already said she hated him at the wedding.
I needed to do something for her. I needed to put power into her hands like he had with her. I needed to make sure she understood the full weight of what I gave her. So, I called her father in the early morning hours, waking him up, not caring that I did. It had irritated him at first, until he knew it was me. Then it was a bunch of ‘yes sirs’ and ‘of course, sirs’ and a promise to be in my office at the appointed time.
I hadn’t meant to startle Marina. I wanted to tell her, but I also wanted it to be a surprise.
I wanted her to decide there in my office, facing her father. If I had told her before, she would have weighed her options, and then again and again. She would have been indecisive and uncertain in her dealings with him. I needed to give her the power right then and there. I needed her to feel that rush and realize she could now do to him what he had done to her. And she pleased me with her decision and her actions.
If I hadn’t already been in love with her, I would have been at that moment.
Chapter Eleven
Marina
I FEEL FREE. I HAVEN’T felt this way—well, since before I turned thirteen and that fateful night. I love the elation I feel, making me light and airy—and full of smiles. The tightness and gloom of death that I wished for is gone. I hum a bit to myself as I pull out something to wear. I look for something with color to match my mood and then head downstairs. Shen is magically in the kitchen, waiting for me, and I tell him to surprise me for breakfast. He hands me a coffee, already made, and turns back to the stove.
“Someone is happy today.” Brad’s voice comes up behind me.
I smile at him, taking a sip of my coffee as he slips in beside me. Shen asks if he wants something, and he says yes. We watch Shen for a bit, and then I catch Brad side-eyeing me. “I’d ask if you got laid, but I know that isn’t the case. You really ought to move in with that man.” He accepts a cup of coffee from Shen and winks at him. Brad isn’t shy.
I blush and set my mug down. “I’m not ready.” But I want to. I’m still scared. Not of Blake, however—of me.
He pats my hand. “It’s your terms, darling.”
He’s right; it is. Blake has made it that way. “What’s happening today?” I sip my coffee, still hot and delicious. Whatever Shen is making is scenting the home.
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