Page 45 of Taken By Him

I’m not sure who this man is sitting with me beneath the tree. Where’s his steely demeanor? It’s unsettling.

“Speaking of shopping. Did you get anything else besides that funeral dress for the wedding when you were out with Margaret?”

The wedding dress was petty, I can admit that.

“No, just that.”

He pats my knee. “Then you’ll have to wear something in your closet.” He gently moves me off his lap and stands with me. He picks up my discarded kindle and takes my hand.

“You want me to wear a dress? Why?”

“We’re going out.”

It’s the only answer he gives me.

And once again, I find myself obeying him.

Chapter Sixteen

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Dominik

Techno music vibrates the walls of the club as I walk through the side doors with Kasia at my side. She kept to herself on the drive into the city. It took a lot out of her, I think, to tell me what she did. I wonder how many times she’s replayed that phone call in her mind over the years. I wonder how many times she tortured herself with the last words her mother spoke.

Marcin Garska is a fucking prick. I was never disillusioned on that fact but seeing Kasia has shown me how fast his trip to hell will be.

I’d gotten home with the intent of forcing her to answer questions. I was willing to do whatever I needed to in order to get the truth from her, expecting her to fight me. But as I marched across the lawn and saw the tension in her body, saw how tightly her eyes were squeezed closed and her fingers pressing into her flesh the way they were, the only thing that mattered was getting her off that fucking call.

Marcin threw a few threats at me when I got on the phone, but they mean nothing. He cares nothing for his daughter. The more I find out, the clearer that has become.

Jakub greets me at the entrance to the main floor. He smiles at Kasia and kisses both of her cheeks. I don’t like it — him touching her, but I don’t say anything. He’s being polite. They’re family now.

“You want the VIP room upstairs?” he shouts the question in my ear.

I glance down at Kasia. She’s wearing a sparkling dress that hugs her body, showing off the curve of her hips, the small swell of her breasts. My instinct is to hide her away. Not to let anyone see her. She’s mine.

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