Page 15 of Sinful Promise

“Ugh,” Katsia groans. “Men.”

“Right? All I wanted was to find an honest man who would treat me well. Instead, I get this knuckle-dragger who will want to stuff his slug of a dick in me.” Fuck. I’ll never know what it’s like to fall in love. “I stood a chance of running away from Papa, but Andrian? Not even Houdini could escape this mess.”

“Right. Shit, I wish we had contacts in another country, but with time running out, now you need a miracle. Maybe you can get the marriage annulled.” She sighs. “Never mind. He has influence, so that’s not going to happen.”

“I’m doomed.” I resign myself to the fact that I can’t fight the men controlling my life. I thought I had time to get out. “Papa probably knew I’d make a run for it one day, and he kept me here as his insurance plan,” I mutter, convinced that Andrian knew all along I’d be the sacrificial lamb.

“Maybe if you fuck Andrian, he’ll give you privileges. Then you could use his contacts to get out of here, change your name, and hide somewhere.”

“I appreciate your optimism, but I’m not smart enough to know how to do that, and it costs money that I don’t have.” In my world, I’m a fool for dreaming of a better life. I’m not asking for much. All I want is to be like the other people my age who work during the week and go to clubs on the weekend.

I jump when Papa pounds his fists on my bedroom door.

“Dasha, we need to talk,” he calls.

“I have to go, Katsia.”

“Text me what’s happening. I’ll be there for you.”

“Thanks.” I hang up and cross the room.

“I don’t want to see you,” I yell through the door.

“You can’t say that. I have to give you away at the church.”

“Church? You don’t even know where it is. You’re such a hypocrite!”

“Please, Dasha. I’m begging you, don’t hate me.”

“It’s too late for that. I hate you. I hate you!” I scream.

“Well, the ceremony is at eleven o’clock. Small service. Just a few people.”

“No doubt I’m saving you from a stretched neck!” I yell again. Papa’s done it this time. My mind is racing as I try to think of alternatives.

I fling the door open. “Why couldn’t you buy your way out of this? You all love money so much,” I argue.

“He doesn’t want money. He wants you.”

“You don’t see a problem with this? He’s old enough to be my father!” My eyes bore into him. This is not happening, I tell myself. I’ll wake up and discover this is a bad dream.

I pinch my arm. Ouch! That hurt. Fuck me, it’s not a nightmare, it’s my life.

“Leave,” I command.

“You’ll do it, right?” His eyes dart from me to the dress and back again.

“It seems my sole purpose in life is to throw myself on the mercy of men and hope they keep me fed and sheltered. Why would I have a problem with that?” I say with sarcasm, slamming the door in his face. Today, of all days, I can get away with this because in a few hours, I won’t be beholden to him.

Instead, I’ll have a new jailer, and something tells me it’ll be a life sentence. Andrian can keep me in Belarus, take away my ID, and have me flagged at the border. I’m sure he has the money and powerful connections to pull it off.

I wonder if this was Papa’s or Andrian’s idea. I wouldn’t put it past Papa to sell me to the devil if it made his problems disappear. Did he sell me for cash or barter my life to save his own skin?

I can’t jump out a two-story window. I can’t involve any friends. My options are fading faster than my hopes of marrying Prince Charming.

Shit. What if I pretend to go along with the plan and figure a way out later?

My chest is tight, and my breathing is labored. I feel dizzy and sit down at my desk, my heart pounding. I force myself to breathe more slowly, inhaling deeply and exhaling. I can do this. I can get to the next minute if I take it one second at a time.

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