Chapter 2
Chapter Two
Tatiana, almost one year later
It’s been a day since Dante kissed my hands and climbed from my window to disappear down the fire escape into the night, a day since he promised he’ll find a solution for us to be together, that instead of the stolen moments, we’ll have forever.
He’ll fix this.
I just have to be patient.
And before that, tonight still, I’ll sleep in his arms the whole night long.
My father has been weirdly housebound lately. Roughly a year ago, he stopped going to the office and meetings. He’s become paranoid about setting foot outside the condo. All his business is conducted at home. If he absolutely has to go out, like tonight, he does it with utter secrecy.
It’s not easy to smuggle your lover into your room when your parents never leave the condo. I can sneak out for short periods of time without raising their suspicions but never for a whole night. My father is way too protective of my chastity to let me sleep over at a friend’s house.
Dante and I have been planning this night for months.
My father is attending the birthday party of the pakhan at his vacation house outside of town.
The pakhan demanded a private audience with my father, so he doesn’t have a choice but to go.
Refusing will be disrespectful. As it’s too far to return after the meeting, he’ll have to stay the night.
My mom always sleeps in. As soon as she goes to bed, I’ll slip out and meet Dante down the street. We’ll spend the night at a guesthouse. Dante has this sweet notion that taking me to a hotel will make me feel cheap. He’ll smuggle me back into the condo before my mom wakes up.
Needless to say, if my father finds out, he’ll be furious, not only because Dante is his enemy but also because my betrothal to Mr. Stein has been made public since his poor wife passed away a few months ago.
Yet it’s too late for that. My wedding to the repulsive Joni Stein will never happen and that’s not only because Dante promised he wouldn’t allow it.
Standing in front of the full-length mirror in my bedroom, I cup a hand over my flat stomach where our baby is growing.
I haven’t told Dante. I want to do it tonight.
But this baby changes everything. This baby gives me hope.
This baby means my father will have to see reason.
I don’t know what caused the rift between him and Dante, but given the situation, surely my father can put that behind him.
He won’t have a choice but to make an effort for the father of his grandchild.
Dante keeps on telling me he’ll make this right, but how can he do that if he can’t even come near my father? I don’t know what he’s planning because he won’t share that with me. Whenever I bring up the subject, Dante just says I have to trust him.
I do. I trust him with my life, but we’re running out of time.
I’m three months along. I’ll start showing soon.
I have to convince my father to annul the contract with Joni Stein before it’s too late.
It will be so much worse for my parents if I do nothing and let the situation escalate into a scandal.
We can break the contract now and pay the damages that are due.
By the time I marry Dante, the gossip will be forgotten.
And if not, I don’t care. I just want to be with the man I love, the father of my baby.
I tried, but my father wouldn’t be swayed.
This is the only argument that can win him over.
As soon as my mind is made up, I smooth out my dress and take a deep breath. Walking into the hallway, I listen for sounds. Emily, our housekeeper, left a good hour ago. Instead of keeping her here until five each day, my mom lets her go as soon as her work is done.
From the classical music coming through the closed door of my mother’s room, I gather she’s relaxing in a bath.
It’s a daily ritual. We have dinner at six sharp, and my father likes her to look her best, even on the evenings he doesn’t eat with us.
She takes the better part of an hour to do her make-up and hair.
Leander is holed up in the entertainment room, drinking whisky and watching porn with his headphones on to hide the loud sex moans from my father. As usual, my father is in his study where he works all hours of the day and night.
Scavenging every morsel of courage I possess, I lift my chin and carry on to his study.
My mom taught me if I focus on positive outcomes, I have a better chance of achieving them, so I envision how I’ll tell Dante later tonight when he holds me in his arms that my father has given us his permission if not his blessing to marry.
My heart pounds in my chest when I knock.
My father’s gruff voice reaches me from the other side of the door. “Come in.”
I go inside and close the door behind me.
My father sits in front of his laptop with an empty glass at his elbow. The half-empty bottle of vodka isn’t a good sign, but I take another deep breath and walk to his desk.
He studies me from under his eyebrows. “What do you want?” He checks his watch before adjusting the cuff of his sleeve. “I’m leaving soon.”
“I know.” I wring my hands. “That’s why I wanted to talk to you now.”
“If you need more money, the answer is no.”
That cuts a little, seeing that I’ve never asked him for anything, not for a dress or a pair of shoes. Not that I lack clothes, make-up, or jewelry. “I don’t need money.”
“Then tell your mother. It’s her job to get you what you need.”
I almost chicken out, but I have to be brave. I have to show my father that I won’t back down and that I’m not scared to stand up for myself. He can’t force me to do what I don’t want to.
“I want to talk to you about the marriage contract.”
“This again?” He rubs his brow. “I’m not wasting my breath by giving you the same answer. My patience is wearing thin, Tatiana, and you don’t want to test it.”
Squaring my shoulders, I say, “I can’t marry Joni Stein.”
My father goes still. Not a muscle moves in his face. The only sound in the room is the ticking of the grandfather clock and finally, the creaking of his leather chair as he leans forward and pins me with a look. “What did you say to me?”
My father is scary when he’s angry, but I don’t waver under his glowering stare. “I’m pregnant. I can’t marry Mr. Stein.”
There, I’ve dropped the bomb. It’s done.
I heave a sigh of relief as a weight lifts off my shoulders.
If the silence of earlier was uncomfortable, now it’s stifling.
My father rises from his chair, straightening until he towers like a giant over me.
I expected his ire, so I stay put when he rounds his desk.
I stand my ground even though he looks at me as if he wants to crush me like a bug under his shoe, as if I’m a filthy disease he wants to wipe away.
“You little whore.” Nostrils flaring, he reaches out and grabs me by the long strands of my hair. “You dirty fucking slut.”
This, I didn’t expect. He’s never laid a finger on me.
Too late, I try to bolt, to run for the door, but he yanks me back by my hair. Stinging pain assaults my scalp. I grab his wrist, trying to relieve the pull, but my attempt is useless. He drags me with little effort to the fireplace.
Holding me fast in one hand, he takes the old horsewhip that belonged to his great-grandfather from the hook where it’s displayed next to his grandfather’s sword on the mantlepiece.
“His name.” He forces me to my knees. “What’s his name?” His complexion has gone bright red, glowing like the coals in the fireplace. Fumes of alcohol land with spittle on my face. “I swear to God, I’ll kill him.”
“No, please.” I shake in his hold, my eyes watering from how hard he’s fisting my hair. “Father, stop.”
He shakes me. “What is his name?”
“No.” I start crying, cupping my hands over my stomach in an instinctive reaction to protect my baby. “Don’t do this.”
“His fucking name,” my father yells. “Or I’ll beat it out of you.”
“I love him,” I sob.
That’s when something flips inside him. I see it in his eyes. He pushes me down until my face hits the carpet, keeping me in place with a shoe on my nape.
A swoosh breaks the pregnant second of silence that follows.
Pain like I’ve never felt lashes over my back and burns into my skin.
My body curls into itself, my fingers forming involuntary claws.
It feels as if the fabric of my dress melts into my flesh.
The burn refuses to stop. It goes on and on, stealing my breath.
The pain is so vicious it kills my scream, trapping the sound before it can reach my lips.
Swoosh.
“What is his name?”
My lungs collapse. I try to crawl away, but my father increases the pressure of his shoe on my neck. I think he may break it.
Swoosh.
“His fucking name!”
Finally, my body processes the worst of the shock. My lungs start functioning again, letting in air. The sound stuck in my chest breaks free. It shocks me. It’s a horrible sound that belongs to a wild animal.
Swoosh.
“I’ll fucking kill you if you don’t give me his name. Tell me who he is so I can torture that son of a bitch to death.”
Never. I’ll never betray Dante as long as I live. Sobs rack my body. I love him too much. I refuse to let my father kill him, and if I give him a name, I know he will. I’d suffer this pain ten times over before I let anything happen to Dante.
My father doesn’t stop. The lashes keep coming, each one more punishing than the last. I scream myself hoarse, fighting to get away, but my father is a bulk of a man more than four times my weight.
The pain is everywhere, inside and outside, in the very air I breathe.
I’m torched alive in scorching flames. I don’t know where I get the strength from, but I manage to twist around and kick him in the gut.
He stumbles back, hitting the desk. Using the chance, I crawl on my hands and knees, sticky wetness trickling over my back and sides and soaking my dress where my skin is on fire.