CHAPTER 3
OAKLYNN
Being summoned to my father’s office has dread filling my gut.
He’s not an easy man, never has been.
Other people can look back on their lives and recall a time of happiness and the feeling of love coming from their parents, but I’m not so lucky.
Maybe if mom hadn’t died, I would have had some of those memories.
The memories I have of her feel like an illusion.
There have been moments when I’ve gotten a whiff of someone’s perfume or would see a smile on a woman’s face, and it would feel so damn familiar.
Or maybe that’s just my hopeful mind trying to find something to hold onto.
Having my father’s expectations wrapped around me, suffocating me, is something I’ve lived with for far too long.
I was expected to be seen, not heard.
I was expected to be polite and have good manners.
Pouting and tantrums were never entertained.
Sure, people might say it was good parenting, but I wasn’t given room to have preferences, opinions, ideas, or feelings.
Just his expectations.
Just his demands.
Just his furor beating down on me and leaving me gasping for air.
I’ve learned to accept that nothing will change in terms of my father.
I could maybe accept that if I thought anything he does has anything to do with my best interests.
How the man can make my life about him is beyond me, but he manages.
Very well.
And all the time.
There was a time when I could sometimes fly under the radar.
I used that time wisely by planning to get away from my father while building my strength to be better prepared for whatever shit life would throw at me next.
I’m not so na?ve to think that my father will keep me safe.
It’s up to me to protect myself.
Maybe if I hadn’t seen a few of the men my father did business with, I could remain blissfully na?ve and ignorant.
But I didn’t have such a luxury.
The men my father has met with, have brought into the same house where his daughter lives, have been scary as fuck.
They are the kind of men you would never want to be trapped in a dark alley with.
The first time one of them looked me over like a snack when I was far too young for that to be okay, I knew I needed to protect myself.
Sure, maybe my father didn’t notice.
But I remember the conversation we had later that evening.
He looked at me, his eyes vacant and cold.
“You will never speak about the men I meet in my office,” he commanded.
I didn’t answer him at first.
Honestly, I didn’t even know what to say.
When he narrowed his eyes at me, I swallowed hard and nodded.
Talking out of turn was something I had already learned about.
“The man you saw earlier has a son and one day you will marry him,” he informed me like it was perfectly normal.
Before I could nod or acknowledge his words, he turned away from me.
I felt the dismissal, and it stung, but I brushed that off.
What I couldn’t brush off was the finality of what he told me.
That I would be marrying someone.
Someone I didn’t know.
Marrying someone wasn’t something I had really considered.
How could I?
A child would only imagine the fairy tale of love and a wedding, not the reality of it.
I didn’t even imagine a wedding, probably because I never saw my parents in love or together.
What would I even imagine?
Loneliness?
Abandonment?
Neglect?
I had no need to imagine those things; I lived them.
Thankfully, I never met the person who I was going to marry.
I’m not sure how I avoided it, but I can only hope it was because I was so young.
Then, without warning, my father’s mood started to shift.
Men stopped coming over for meetings.
The tension could have been cut with a knife.
He was volatile and combative.
The only thing I could do was walk on eggshells and hope for the best.
I was in college by then and was able to spend more time away from the house at different times in the day.
I’m sure the only reason I was even allowed to go to college was because he thought it would look good for me to be educated.
After graduation, my father came to me, fury written on his face.
It took everything in me not to cower away from him.
Or run screaming in the other direction.
“Originally, I was going to tell you about your wedding in two months. That was the plan,” his words were filled with rage.
“But your wedding has been postponed.” He got right in my face, his eyes wild, almost feral.
“Make no mistake, Oaklynn, you’ll still be getting married, but not until everything is taken care of and power is restored in this city.”
My eyebrows pulled together because I didn’t understand what he was talking about.
I wasn’t sure I wanted to.
“Don’t question me,” he snarled before I even considered it.
He gripped my upper arms and shook me.
It wasn’t as rough as he’d been in the past, but I had to stifle the gasp of surprise that wanted to escape my lips.
“Never fucking question me.”
I lowered my gaze and looked at the floor, knowing about his need for power and control.
It seemed to placate him, not all the way, but enough.
“You’re just as worthless as your mother,” he spat the words, shook me again, and released me with a shove.
I was barely able to keep my footing, but I managed.
Then I stood so damn still until he huffed out an exasperated breath and stormed toward his office.
How fucked up is it that I actually breathed a sigh of relief because the encounter wasn’t as bad as it could have been?
Small favors, huh?
That was the last time he mentioned my impending wedding.
I don’t know what has happened since then, but I’ve heard a lot of yelling coming from his office.
Maybe listening in could earn me some information, but I don’t want to find out what would happen if he caught me.
The thought of it makes me shudder.
I’ve seen him look at me with calculation in his eyes.
He’s up to something, but that’s nothing new.
He’s always up to something.
I have the feeling it won’t be something fate help me avoid this time.
There won’t be any way to escape it.
Maybe it won’t be as bad as some archaic arranged marriage.
Maybe it will be worse.
I’ve been able to get away with keeping myself busy with volunteer and charity work around the city while my father has been distracted more than normal lately.
My gut is telling me that my time has run out.
Whatever he has been planning is about to be revealed.
While I don’t know the details, I’m sure I’ll be a pawn in whatever game he’s playing.
When I’m standing in front of my father’s office door, I’m reminded of how imposing I’ve always found it to be.
When I was younger, it felt like the door loomed over me.
Now, at 25, it still feels like it dwarfs me, and it has nothing to do with my relatively diminutive 5’4” frame.
It’s because of what I know is on the other side of the door.
My father’s gaze will hold no sympathy, empathy, or love.
His expectations will be too high for me to be able to meet them.
Exceed them?
That’s a pipe dream; one I’ve never pinned any hope to.
My heart pounds in my chest as I force myself to knock on the door, the sound echoing around me and highlighting just how quiet the house is.
It’s always quiet.
There’s no life in this house, there never has been.
There is only oppression and disappointment.
They’re the worst fucking roommates, but they’re all I’ve ever known.
“Enter,” my father’s deep voice commands.
I enter the room silently because it is what he expects of me.
I may not be a child anymore, but being seen is still the name of the game.
Not heard.
Never heard.
It took me a long time to even realize I still have a voice.
There’s no doubt in my mind that my father thinks he broke me, molded me, and built me into exactly what he wanted.
Little does he know it’s all an act.
Just like the way he shows people what he wants them to see publicly, I’ve learned how to play the role in private.
I stand behind the chair in front of my father’s desk, my eyes averted even though I take him in out of the corner of my eye.
He’s sitting behind his desk and has the appearance of being relaxed.
But I know differently.
I’m pretty sure my father has never been relaxed a moment in his life.
But he does pretend.
When he’s golfing.
Or sipping whiskey.
Or flaunting his money.
It’s all for show.
“Sit, Oaklynn,” suspicion drips off my name even though I don’t believe I’ve done anything to cause such a reaction.
“We have a lot to discuss.”
When I lower myself in the chair, I perch on the edge.
It makes me feel like a bird just waiting to take to the air.
If only I could.
My father leans forward, his elbows on the desk and his fingers steepled as he studies me.
It feels like he’s looking at me through a microscope.
Part of me wants to squirm, but I manage to hold still.
If I were to move, he would interpret it as weakness which just won’t do.
“It’s time for you to fulfill your purpose finally.”
My head snaps up with his words and the way he glares at me should have me cowering in fear, but I can’t get past the threat he just laid at my feet with a simple sentence.
My voice is a whisper even though I want to scream the words at him, “What do you mean?”
“Don’t take that tone with me,” he snarls.
My hands are gripping each other so tightly that my knuckles turn white.
I want to be able to look into my father’s eyes, but I force myself to only look at his chin for a beat before my eyes fall to the ground again.
“I have finally gotten a meeting I’ve been trying to get for a while.” His words float in the austere office built with intimidation in mind.
“We will be having dinner with Kirill Volkov this evening. You will now be marrying him.”
I take a few deep breaths to fight against the feeling of the walls closing in on me.
Now is not the time to lose focus.
“Marrying him? Is this the man you mentioned before?”
“Enough,” my father spits as if asking a question is tantamount to treasonous sass.
“You do not have a say in this, and you don’t need to know a damn thing about the arrangement.”
I nod slightly, barely moving my head but wanting him to know I’ve heard and understood.
My face is a blank mask, but the last thing I feel is calm.
I try to remember if I ever heard the man’s name over the years.
My gut is telling me that something has changed.
Why now?
My father sighs and his tone is filled with annoyance even though he does try to sound magnanimous, “I suppose you can know that Volkov is not the man you were originally going to marry. Things have changed.”
I nod again and keep my eyes averted.
I’m not sure I could keep the loathing I feel for the man in front of me out of my gaze if I were to look up at this point.
Even though he hasn’t said it, my father is selling me.
I’m not na?ve enough to believe it’s anything different than that.
While I don’t know what my father gains, I’m sure it’ll all become clear soon enough.
Speculating without enough information is useless.
And I don’t have time for it.
My heart is racing along with my thoughts.
I can wish I had more time to plan all I want, but the reality is that I’m not going to be able to avoid going to dinner.
“You will be on your best behavior this evening,” he commands.
Not waiting for a response, or not wanting one, his words keep coming.
“Not only will your manners and attire be above reproach, but you will be charming. You’re only of use to me if you are on Volkov’s arm.”
The lump in my throat grows with his words.
As much as I know my father will never be who I wish he was and I’ll never know his love, it’s not easy to hear how little I mean to him.
He only sees my worth in terms of a man.
Indignation flares in my chest, but I swallow down all the words trying to claw their way up my throat.
Talking back to him would not be welcomed.
“Once Volkov has agreed with the terms of your union, I expect you to keep in contact with me.” I suck in a breath, the dread in my gut growing.
“If you overhear something pertinent, you will tell me.”
“Pertinent to what?” I can’t stop the question from slipping from my lips and I feel the way my face drains of color.
The chuckle that rumbles from my father’s chest feels like tar slipping along my skin as if teasing me with pulling me under.
“That’s not for you to understand,” he sneers.
My father sits back in his chair, his hawkish gaze fixated on me.
His eyes weigh me, analyzing everything.
Every breath.
Every twitch.
Every moment stretched between us as his silence blankets the room.
If this were any other day, if we weren’t having an important dinner, I have no doubt my father would be expressing his displeasure at my impertinence with his hands and strength.
He’s not muscular, but he’s remained fairly fit.
I have no doubt the only reason he’s exercised at all is for the chance of being able to remind me of my place.
As if I could ever forget.
“You will make sure you are tied to Volkov as tightly as you can. A ring won’t be enough.” I stop breathing, the reality of his expectations washing over me.
“What?” I breathe out the question.
My mind is screaming at me, trying to convince me that my own father is not suggesting what I think he is.
He wouldn’t.
But I know the truth.
He would.
He has.
“Trap him. Get pregnant as quickly as you can after the ceremony,” his voice is cold and calculating.
The feeling of my heart sinking, something I should be accustomed to when it comes to the man in front of me, is nothing new.
But still.
His command has nothing to do with wanting a grandchild to dote on.
All he’s concerned about is what my body can gain him and who he can barter me to and for what.
“Use whatever,” he pauses as if searching for the right word, “charms you need to. I expect you to insnare the man. You will do whatever it takes to keep Volkov. If it means a baby, then do it.” He scoffs, “It’s not like you’re worth more than that anyway.”
My heart sinks.
Popping out a few babies is all I’m good for.
If only this were the first time I’ve heard something like that.
“Yes, Father,” I murmur softly, my lips barely moving.
Exhaustion threatens to pull me under while my shoulders desperately want to slump.
I don’t move though, not yet.
I can’t.
His eyes are too calculating.
Showing him even a little sliver of weakness would be a mistake right now.
It’s almost ironic.
He wants me to be weak, malleable, submissive.
But he also expects me to stand strong while faced with everything he’s laid at my feet.
I want to scream in his face and beg him to tell me how he demands so much from me without giving me anything in return.
But I’m not stupid.
Losing my cool would not be a good idea right now.
He wouldn’t hurt me, not before dinner, but there’s always after.
Who knows what will happen to anger my father at dinner?
The myriad of unknowns has my stomach flipping and tensing.
My life has always been a minefield.
“You can go. You’ll find the outfit I picked out specifically for this dinner on your bed,” the warning is clear in his tone.
I stand slowly before moving out of his office, keeping my steps light and small.
As much as my heart wishes he would call me back and tell me he’s changed his mind about everything, I know it won’t happen.
Why would it when I can almost feel his glee at something going his way?
He’s been tense for a while and I was sure nothing was going to change.
If only I wasn’t caught in my father’s web of planning and scheming.
But I am.
And now I’ll be going to dinner and meeting with a man I’ve never heard of.
All in the name of being traded to him.
I might not have a say in what is about to happen, but I know the only person who I can trust in this situation is me.
Certainly not my father.
Certainly not anyone who would do business with the man either.
As horrified as I am about what my father expects, it is a chance to get out of this house.
Tonight could mean a change, one which finds me in a life that is worse than the one I’m living now.
But maybe, just fucking maybe, it’s a chance for something better.
I just won’t be holding my breath for that.