Page 2 of Taken By Him

“Diana.” My father says the name with contempt. The way he speaks my own name. He knows. To call me out on my trickery would embarrass him in front of these men, and he won’t do that. But he’ll deal with me later.

“Diana, this is Mr. Joseph Staszek. And this is Dominik Staszek, his son, your intended.”

Intended. Sometimes I wonder if my father even understands the modern world. He’s so entrenched with old rituals and rules; he sounds as outdated as the furniture in his office.

“Mr. Staszek.” I force a smile for him. Diana is more civil than me, more polite. She wouldn’t offend anyone in this room, and even with my father aware of the switch, I don’t want to make her first impression to these men a bad one.

When I move my gaze to Dominik to greet him, a chill runs down my back. He’s not my age. He looks well past high school years. His hair is cut on the long side, and his beard is well trimmed. It’s his eyes that give me pause. Ice blue.

“Dominik,” I say quietly and avert my gaze. He’s dressed in a black suit with a regal blue shirt, no tie. His hands are tucked into his slacks, but even with his position I can see the muscles beneath his clothing.

“Diana.” He inclines his head. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“The contract has been worked out; we only need your signature, then you can go up to your room. I know you have a lot of homework to get to,” my father says. He’s referring to the biology report I haven’t completed. The tutor my mother made him hire is nothing more than a tattletale.

Mr. Marcowski walks to the desk and turns it toward me, holding out a pen for me. I swallow hard beneath the stare of all four of them on me. Diana would have crumbled in this room. She would have fallen into a fit of sobs. Being made to sign away your future can do that to a sixteen-year-old girl.

I glide across the room, my chin held high and snatch the pen from his hand. The attorney points to the last empty line at the bottom of the paper. Everyone else has already scribbled their names.

“You don’t need to read it. Just sign,” my father snaps at me. I clear my throat as a way to keep from commenting back, then put the pen to the paper.

Easily the pen glides over the paper as I scrawl my sister’s name on the line. Signing away her future. Signing away any chance she had of falling in love the way a girl is supposed to.

“Good!” Mr. Staszek claps his hands together in celebration. He should be happy, from what I was able to glimpse of the contract his family stands to inherit all of my father’s businesses upon his death. There is no son to pass the business onto, this is the next best thing.

“They will be happy, back home,” Mr. Staszek says. “This little feud—it’s over,” he says and waves over at Dominik. “Why don’t you escort your bride for a few minutes.”

Dominik gives a slight nod.

What feud are they talking about?

“Let’s go, Diana.” Dominik touches my arm when he gets close enough. The way he says the name, it’s bitter. Is he as unhappy about this arrangement as Diana is?

“I’ll be up to talk with you later,” my father calls to me as we reach the door. I don’t bother to acknowledge him. He can add it to the list of things he’ll punish me for. I don’t care.

Dominik towers over me as we walk down the hall.

“I can walk myself, thanks,” I say to him as we get to the stairs. “I’m sure you have things to do.”

He grabs my hand as I step onto the stairs and pulls me around to look down at him.

“You’re not Diana,” he accuses.

I school my features. “Why would you say that?”

“Because I saw Diana scurry like a scared mouse when we arrived. She wasn’t wearing any earrings, and she was wearing white sandals.” He gives a pointed look at the black flip flops. I forgot the shoes.

“Does it matter? You got what you came for. A signature,” I say, pulling my hand from his. It’s too big, too powerful. “How old are you?” If we’re skirting small talk, I’d like some information.

“Twenty-five,” he says with a grin. “You’re sixteen. Don’t worry, I won’t claim your sister until after she’s graduated high school. She’s a free bird until then.” He places one hand on the banister and leans on it. “Tell her, I expect her to be at the wedding. And if I were you, Kasia, I’d teach her a bit more about bravery. She’s going to need it.” He winks, then pushes away from the stairs, pockets his hands, and saunters back down the hall toward the office.

Whistling.

The asshole is whistling.

I run up the stairs to my room.

Two years. I have two years to find a way for my sister to get out of this marriage.

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