Chapter 2 - Athena
I don’t understand what’s happening. He must be taking me to prison or something. Maybe he’s a cop. Undercover? What does he think my father stole? It doesn’t matter! He has the wrong person. My father would never be involved in anything like that.
“Please,” I try again. “There’s been a mistake,” I say.
My body is on high alert. Anxiety pulses through me, fueled by adrenalin and cortisol and all of those things that make me want to fight and scream.
But I need to try and stay calm and reasonable so I can get him to understand that this is all a big mistake.
He glances briefly across the car at me. If I can just get him to see reason…
The man says nothing, but his dark brown eyes pierce into me in the dimly lit car.
For a second, my heart stutters as I get caught in his stare.
I forgot what I wanted to say. My eyes quickly trace over his face, taking in the sight of his rugged good looks and strong, angular jaw.
The way the muscles ripple across his cheeks as he pulls his mouth in disapproval. Or anger. It’s hard to tell.
What I can tell, however, without a flicker of doubt, is that he’s gorgeous.
I didn’t know they had such beautiful police in this city. I might have gotten into trouble much earlier.
What the hell are you thinking! I snap at myself. This isn’t funny or the right time to be daydreaming about some hot guy arresting you!
“Sir, I don’t know what is going on, but I think you have to tell me what I’m being arrested for,” I try a new tactic. It is the law, isn’t it? You can’t just take people away without telling them why?
One minute, I was walking into my dad’s place to bring him some groceries. The next thing I knew, I was being dragged away by this darkly handsome, very dangerous-looking stranger.
I often stop by Dad after work. He doesn’t eat right. I do my best to make him proper meals and check in on him as often as I can.
He’s a good man. A bit rough at the edges. A bit cold. But I know his heart is in the right place…he’s never done anything wrong. He’s never been in trouble with the police.
It’s just an accident. He got caught up in something. Maybe someone tricked him. There are all kinds of scammers out there. If I can just talk to someone, I can explain that my dad isn’t that type of person. Give me back what you stole. That’s what the stranger said to him.
No.
It’s a mistake.
But what happened at the house?
I must have misunderstood…
I push the thought of what my father did away, assuming it must have been a shock or something. He was reacting on instinct or out of fear.
The man is looking back toward the road, and I’m still staring at him. He is as gorgeous in profile as he is looking for head on.
Dammit, Athena, focus!
“Hey! You have to talk to me. This is some kind of police brutality or … something, I don’t know. But you can’t do this. It’s not legal!” I sound like I have no idea what I’m talking about, and that’s because I don’t. I’ve never been in a situation like this!
The beautiful stranger scoffs. A dark, deep laughter rolls from his chest. “Legal?” he smirks at me. Briefly, his eyes drag over my face and down my body. It’s crazy how one glance like that can send a thousand messages. My heart races as my imagination shoots out of control.
That can’t be legal either. I mean, ok, he didn’t say anything, but that look was… suggestive.
Oh, please, try proving that in a court of law.
Ok fine. Never mind legal. It’s not professional. That’s because he’s not a policeman.
No, he has to be a policeman.
Panic deepens
I huff loudly. Frustration sears through me as I fight to control my thoughts and get a grip on this weird situation.
“Which police station are we going to?” I ask, realizing we aren’t going in the right direction.
“Which one would you prefer, darling?” he asks with a hint of threat in his voice.
The question throws me off. So does his tone. My eyes trace over him again, slower this time, paying attention to details.
He’s impeccably dressed. The suit looks expensive.
Black leather suspenders under the jacket.
Crisp white shirt. My eyes trace up his arm, onto his hands as they grip the steering wheel.
Tendons move beneath the skin. He has beautiful hands.
There is a tattoo on his hand coming out from beneath his sleeve.
I can’t make out what it is. He has heavy silver rings on his slender fingers.
My brain is screaming not police, but my mind is refusing to accept that. If he’s not the police, who is he?
“What is your name?” I demand.
“Adrian. What’s yours, darling?” he answers, surprising me.
His voice is so deep it’s almost soothing. He speaks with a casual confidence. I should rather call it arrogance.
“If you don’t even know who I am, then why are you taking me?” I snap.
“Because your father is in a lot of trouble and owes me a great deal of money.”
I shake my head. “It can’t be. My dad earns basic wages. He works at a warehouse packing orders. He doesn’t borrow money from people…”
“He didn’t borrow it. He stole it. Not money—products.”
“No… it just doesn’t sound like him at all. Please, there has to be a mistake,” I mumble, getting more desperate.
“There is no mistake, I assure you.”
The stranger, Adrian, turns off the main road and into an underground parking area. The car growls loudly in the enclosed space.
“I have a right to…this isn’t a police station!” I blurt out.
“How very observant of you,” he says sarcastically, making me want to reach over and claw his gorgeous eyes out. How infuriating can one person be?
“I want to go to a police station!” I yell.
He turns the engine off and climbs out of the car. As soon as he closes the door, I slam the locks closed from inside.
His face darkens. Not amused in the least.
Holding up the car key, he presses the remote's button, and the doors unlock. I immediately lock them again.
“Dammit, girl! You are testing my patience!” he growls dangerously, pushing the button and tugging the door open before I can lock it again.
As he leans down to grab me, I catch sight of the gun tucked in the holster against his ribs.
I already knew he had it. I saw him pointing it at my father, then at me.
But the sight of it is a sharp reminder that I’m in over my head. If he’s not the police…. Who is he?
“Where are we?” I whimper as he drags me, tight against his side, into an elevator. His thick, muscular arm is wrapped around me, and as he presses me into his body, I can feel how solid he is beneath the suit.
“My lawyer’s office,” he snaps.
“Lawyer?” I say in surprise. “Why?”
But he offers nothing more as the elevator rises, and a deep anxiety grows inside me like a snake.
Is Dad in so much trouble that I have to go straight to court? Or to jail? I need to know what’s going on!
The elevator doors slide open, and he pulls me with him as we move down a long corridor toward an open office door.
“Mr. Volkov, it’s good to see you,” the man behind the desk says as he stands up and offers Adrian his hand.
“You are too. Are we ready?” Adrian replies, getting straight to business. I glance at the golden name plaque on the man’s desk, over his paperwork and leather-bound folders. There is a gold pen on a stack of papers, which is what he must have been working on when we came in.
I bite my lip, waiting to hear something, anything that will make this all make sense.
The lawyer pushes the papers across the desk toward Adrian. “Here you go. It’s all ready for you,” he says.
“And it’s legit? Everything.”
“Of course,” the man nods. He spreads the pages out into a neat row, concentrating on keeping them evenly spaced, as though he is meticulous or struggles with OCD. It gives me enough time to graze my eyes over the printed words on the crisp white paper.
Marriage license.
Adrian picks up the gold pen and begins to scribble his signature across the open lines and wherever the lawyer points.
Marriage license? What?
I turn to look at Adrian in utter confusion. “I don’t understand,” I say nervously.
Adrian hands me the gold pen. “Sign,” he demands.
The shock deepens. “I’m not signing that. I don’t want to marry you. I don’t even know who you are!” I protest adamantly. In desperation, I look toward the lawyer for help, but the man is clearly not interested.
“I’m not signing that!” I say again when Adrian glares at me and shoves the pen into my hand.
“You are signing it,” he snarls.
“No, I’m not! I already told you this is all a mistake. My father didn’t do whatever you think he did. We can clear this all up if you….”
Adrian grabs my upper arm and pulls me so close to his face that his breath is hot against my lips. “Listen very carefully, darling. You are going to sign because if you don’t, I’m going to kill your father. Is that motivation enough?”
Fear spills through every vein in my body. I gulp in horror. Is he being serious? Would he really kill my father? No, he has to be bluffing. This can’t be happening.
“But... but…he didn’t do anything…” I stutter quietly, still trying to find a way out of this. “He’s innocent…” This has to be a big misunderstanding.
“Innocent?” Adrian scoffs darkly. “You surely can’t be that naive?
Your father, your own father, used you as a human shield and held a gun to your head back there.
Does that seem like something an innocent man would do?
You’re his daughter, and he sold you to me in exchange for his debts.
Does that sound right to you? Do you really know who your father is?
What type of person he is?” he growls at me, and his words strike a chord deep inside me.
No…he was in shock.
But he did hold a gun to my head. That really happened.
But he was in shock.
Doubt creeps into me. The certainty begins to crack.
Adrian shakes me, pulling my attention onto his face. His dark eyes pierce into me. “Sign the papers or your father dies,” he says without a trace of hesitation.
I believe him. The way he delivers the threat leaves absolutely no space for doubt. But still, this feels unreal. I stare down at the papers in front of me. If I don’t sign, my father dies? What choice do I actually have then?
“Please,” I whisper, tears springing to my eyes. My legs feel weak, and for a moment I think, if he weren’t holding me so tightly, my legs would collapse beneath me.
“It’s for your own good, Athena.” His words don’t make sense. How can this be for my good? Do this, or your father dies. My heart sinks. Resignation floods my body.
My hand is shaking as I scribble my name across the lines. Pitch-black ink stains the marriage license, and suddenly, I have a husband. I am married. To a man I know absolutely nothing about.
“Good,” Adrian growls.
“Mr. and Mrs. Volkov,” the lawyer smirks, rubbing it in. “Congratulations. I will have a copy sent to you for your personal files.”
Adrian threads his arm around my waist and holds me as though he’s protecting me. It’s a strange gesture. Gentle almost. But also, darkly possessive. He’s making it clear I have nowhere to run, or no way to escape his side. I guess it’s not protective…he’s just making sure I can’t get away.
My hands are still shaking when he leads us back to the elevator.
Disbelief flickers through me over and over again, and I go mentally blank for a moment.
Then I’m in his car.
Then we’re parked outside a massive mansion.
My head is swimming, ducking and diving, and in denial.
That did not just happen!
He switches the car off and turns to face me.
“We’re home,” he says. Home? This isn’t my home.
His voice is different. Still deep. Still edged with something dangerous.
Carved from authority. He is a man who is used to getting what he wants.
But now there is something gentle in his tone as well.
“Come on, I can make you something to eat,” he says, climbing out of the car.
I stare at him as he walks around the front of the car. My brain has gone numb.
He pulls my door open and offers me his hand.
I place mine in his, and as soon as there is contact between us, my mind jolts back into my body, and my thoughts are clear again.
And the panic is back in full force.
What is going on? Who is this man? Why am I here?
I tug my arm away, fearful about what he actually has planned for me, but he’s faster than me, anticipating the movement. He grabs me and lifts me from the car. He quickly pulls me close to him.
Leading me up the stairs to the front door of the mansion, he has a firm grip on me. Not painful. Not aggressive. But firm.
“Please just let me go?” I beg.
“It’s not going to happen. You are my wife now, and I will make sure to take care of you,” he says with command in his voice. “Everything I have done is to keep you safe,” he tells me.
I stare at him in disbelief. The scary part is he truly believes what he’s saying. For some reason, he thinks he’s helping me. Can he really be that delusional?