Chapter 2 - Sienna
“So, are you coming to Jake's party tonight?” Mandy Hillman, my roommate, asked as she twirled in front of the mirror to check her outfit.
Mandy and I rented a small apartment in a two-story building, right outside campus. The owner only rented to campus students.
I looked up from my books, still seated at my small desk. “No. I’ve got to study. I got here on a scholarship, remember? I have to keep my grades up.”
I’d worked my ass off to earn my Bachelor’s Degree in Computer Science and get this scholarship for my Master's program. There was no way I was letting up now, especially since my end goal was landing a job at one of the top cybersecurity firms in the UK, far away from my manipulative father’s claws.
Mandy placed her hands on her rounded hips and rolled her green eyes. “CeeCee, you can rattle off that IT stuff in your sleep. It’s just one party. Besides, Jake’s friend Dan likes you. He’s hoping you’ll be there.”
“Is Dan’s friend Kyle going to be there, too? You know, Mr. Tall and Brooding…the one you’ve got a major crush on?”
Mandy’s green eyes lit up. “Of course! That’s why I designed this outfit just for tonight.”
Mandy and I were total opposites. She was outgoing, stylish, and getting her masters in fashion.
She loved the spotlight. I preferred staying out of it, quite content with sitting behind a screen.
I wore sweatpants and hoodies and kept my honey-blonde hair in a ponytail.
When I wasn’t studying, I was working at the café just off campus.
“Okay, then let’s make a deal,” I said. “Next time Jake throws a party, if Dan actually comes up to me like a man and asks me to go, I’ll go.”
Mandy squealed and held out her pinky for a promise, then smirked. “And I get to dress you for it?”
I sighed. If I let Mandy dress me, I’d probably end up showing more skin than I liked, and socializing on top of that would wreck my nerves. I liked staying under the radar, not in the spotlight, where people could dig into who my father is.
I held out my pinky. “Only if it’s not too revealing.”
Mandy grinned and hooked her finger with mine. “Deal.”
She checked her reflection one last time: perfect makeup and black waves, thigh-high boots, a pleated skirt, and a halter top with a built-in tie that dipped between her breasts.
She grabbed her purse and winked. “Don’t wait up for me.”
“Don't forget to lock the door behind you.”
“I won't.”
With a blown kiss and a wave, she was gone.
Not more than two minutes later, there was a knock on the door.
“Mandy probably forgot her keys again,” I muttered, slipping on my flip-flops as I padded across the room.
“Mandy, did you forget your ke…” My voice trailed off the second the door opened.
Two tall, muscular men stood in the hallway, wearing black suits and earpieces, sunglasses covering their eyes.
“Miss Sienna Romonoff,” one of them said, his tone clipped. “Our boss sent us to fetch you.”
“W-who’s your boss?” I managed, speaking around the lump that had formed in my throat.
“You’ll meet him when you get there.”
“If you can’t tell me who he is, I’m not going anywhere,” I snapped, braver than I felt.
For all I knew, they were kidnappers, or worse, traffickers. I tried to shut the door, but the man jammed his foot in the way and shoved it open, sending me sprawling. Pain shot up my arm as my elbow hit the ground.
He stepped inside, making the room seem smaller than it was. “Miss Romonoff, it would be in your best interest to come quietly. You wouldn’t want to be the reason Miss Mandy Hillman goes missing, would you?”
My heart slammed into my chest as I tried to inhale the oxygen that my body desperately needed. I forced myself upright, gripping the edge of the bed to steady my shaking legs.
I couldn't let them take Mandy. I couldn't.
“What does your boss want with me?” my voice cracked.
“That’s between you and him. Time to go.”
He grabbed my arm firmly and pulled me into the hall. My legs moved quickly to keep up with his long strides. I yanked my hoodie up and ducked my head, trying to avoid the hushed whispers and wide-eyed stares of students hanging out in the hallway, playing music.
Outside, the cold night air smacked me in the face. A black SUV waited, the engine idling.
“Get in,” he ordered.
I climbed into the back seat. Inside, two more men sat waiting, one behind the wheel, the other in the passenger seat. The two who’d dragged me here boxed me in on either side.
Pressing my palms together, I tried to control my breathing. Maybe this was a mistake. Maybe they had the wrong girl, even though they’d said my name.
I prayed I was right.
I knew I hadn't done anything wrong or offended anyone. How could I, when I went out of my way to avoid people?
The silence inside the SUV was suffocating. Every second that passed made my gut twist tighter. Twenty long minutes later, the SUV rolled to a stop in front of what looked like a closed nightclub. The man who’d grabbed me at the dorm climbed out first and left the door open.
I stepped out, and the other man followed close behind. Wordlessly, I trailed between both men as we entered the club and took a flight of stairs. We stopped at the last door in the hall. The one who’d taken me knocked twice on the door.
“Come in,” a male voice snapped from inside.
The man opened the door and jerked his chin toward it.
I hesitated, then stepped inside. The door shut behind me, sealing me in.
I scanned the room, and my gaze fell on him.
Leaning against the front of the desk, arms folded across his chest, his intense, icy-blue stare made it impossible for me to look away even as my heart rate spiked.
Even from where I stood, I could tell he was tall, over six feet, maybe six-three.
His thick black hair was slicked back, not a strand out of place.
His jaw was clean-shaven, and his suit with no tie molded perfectly to his well-toned body.
He was the epitome of tall, dark, and dangerous, the kind of seductive man Mandy read about in her romance novels.
Only this wasn’t fiction, and there was nothing seductive about the way he was looking at me.
“Miss Romonoff, thank you for coming,” he said, his face blank.
I scoffed before I could stop myself. “You say that like I had a choice.”
“Then thank you for making it easy for my men to bring you to me.”
“Why am I here, Mr…?”
“Call me Avit.”
I folded my arms. “Mr. Avit. Why am I here?”
“You’re here to pay your father's debt. He owes my family one hundred grand.”
I gasped, eyes widening. “I must not have heard you right, Mr. Avit. I'm here to pay his debt of one hundred grand?”
“You are.”
How on earth did my father rack up debt like that?
“I don't know what my father told you, but I work in a café. I don't make much money.”
“You're not here to pay with money, Ms. Romonoff. You are the payment.”
A chill ran down my spine.
“What? This has to be some kind of joke. Me, as in a human being, in this day and age, am being used to pay a debt?”
“You are.”
I nodded slowly, placing my hands on my hips as I began to pace in front of the door.
“Right. Okay. Sienna, you must be dreaming. You probably picked up one of Mandy’s romance books, started reading, and drifted off.
Now you’re stuck in a dream with a handsome guy who probably wants to use you as a sex slave, and by the end, the two of you fall in love and live happily ever after. ”
“Ms. Romonoff, this is no dream.” His voice cut through my spiral with a hint of amusement before hardening. “Your father gave you to me after I discovered he’d stolen medication from one of the operations my siblings and I oversee.”
Slowly, I turned to face him. “Operations? Please tell me you come from a family of doctors.”
A small smirk touched his lips, gone as quickly as it came. “We are Bratva: the Safin faction.”
Crap.
I stumbled back, hitting the door as the room spun.
The Safin territory had taken a lot of hits over the past three years; the latest was a couple of months ago, when two bombs went off in their territory, injuring twenty people and killing four, including a child.
We’d heard about the bombings on campus.
I shook my head. “It can’t be my father,” my voice cracked. “You’ve got the wrong person. He does odd jobs here and there, but he wouldn’t have gotten mixed up with the mafia. He wouldn’t have stolen from them…from you.”
He pushed off the desk and took a few steps towards me, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Jasper Romonoff, age fifty-five, once married to Cindy Romonoff, is your father, correct?”
I nodded, unable to trust myself to speak. I already knew I wasn’t going to like what came next.
“He owes me one hundred grand for the medication he’s been stealing for over a year. To pay off his debt, he gave you to me.”
My mother had suffered from cancer for years before finally succumbing to the illness five years ago.
My father had gone from doting to completely indifferent.
He gambled, schemed, and did whatever he could to get money, either to bet or to drink, amongst other things.
But there was no way I was going to admit that to Mr. Avit.
So, while I was furious at my father for selling me, I wasn't about to air his dirty laundry, nor was I surprised he’d gotten himself entangled with the mafia.
“And you’re sure my father is the one behind this? This theft? You have solid proof?”
I already knew the answer.
“I do.”
Shit!
I felt a wave of nausea rush through me.
“And he wasn’t intoxicated when he made this deal with you?” I asked, my voice trembling despite my best effort.
“He wasn’t.”
No. No way. I could not just be auctioned off like cattle. This wasn’t in my plan. I hadn’t worked this hard, fought this long, just for my father to ruin everything. My hands clenched at my sides, my nails biting into my palms as I straightened and fixed Mr. Avit with a glare.
“And what makes you think I should be given to you for my father’s mistakes?
He’s the one who stole from you. I had nothing to do with it!
” My voice rose with each sentence. “He’s probably at some bar, drinking himself stupid, while I’m stuck here with you, once again cleaning up one of his messes. ”
His eyes narrowed, but I continued, barely holding back the frantic desperation I felt inside. “Does that seem fair to you? Is it the Bratva way to make others pay for crimes they haven't committed?”
With a few long strides, he stopped in front of me, glaring down, but I held his stare. Why the hell did he smell so good? And the fact that he could look down at me like that made my heart skip a beat.
As a tall girl, I was usually awkward around guys at five-nine, and he was clearly closer to six-five.
That height made me realize I’d feel safe with him, that he could probably step in if another guy tried anything.
Something I’ve never felt on the few dates I’d been on; I usually had to handle men on my own.
The longer I looked at him, the more I realized how handsome he was.
He had a face that belonged on a magazine cover or on a runway.
His height alone would’ve made me consider approaching him and giving him my number, but he wasn't some random guy.
He was in the mafia. And something about that only pissed me off more.
“What makes you think your weasel of a father is off the hook? Just like I have uses for him, I’ll have uses for you.”
I laughed hysterically. “Uses? Such as…sex?”
“According to your father, you’re a virgin. Why would you think you’d be useful to me in that area?”
My eyes widened, and my heart slammed into my chest. The floor might as well have swallowed me whole. My father told him I was a virgin? Is that why he took me? To be some damn virgin trophy?
Shit. Shit. Shit.
“Listen, Mr. Avit,” I said, forcing my voice to remain steady. “Maybe we can make a deal. I could work for you as a housekeeper or an office assistant, until the debt’s paid off.”
“Like father, like daughter,” he drawled, stepping away from me. “Quick to cut a deal, aren’t you?”
He moved behind his desk, picked up a sheet of paper, and looked at me. “But I’m done making deals with your family. You’re mine now. And I don’t want you as a housekeeper or an office assistant, Miss Romonoff.” His gaze darkened. “You will be my wife.”
“What?!” The word tore out of me, louder than I meant.
He placed the paper on the desk, then set a pen beside it. “Here’s the marriage certificate. Sign it.”
“Marriage? Are you crazy? I’m sure you don’t need my signature on a marriage certificate to solidify the deal with my father,” I shot back.
He ignored me completely. “I’m going to count to five,” he said, coldly. “By the time I reach five, your name will be on that paper. One…”
“Mr. Avit, I’m sure there’s another way we can settle this,” I said, refusing to move.
“Two.”
“You’re a businessman, right? We can draft a contract…I’ll work for you a few times a week. I promise to honor it.”
“Three.”
“At least let me talk to my father first. Maybe we can…”
“A bullet’s waiting for your father if you don’t sign. Four.”
My breathing hitched. My father wouldn’t win any Father of the Year awards, but him being murdered wasn’t something I could stomach. Even though it would've been a consequence of one of his many bad choices.
I crossed the room in a rush, grabbed the pen, and scribbled my name on the certificate.
But somehow, it didn't feel like a marriage certificate. It felt like I’d just signed my soul over to a blue-eyed devil.