Something about the way he spoke made me collect myself. I realized that I didn't have much of a choice, and this made me resent him more. I loved my freedom. Yet, this man doesn't even have to try hard to take it away from me. He stole my liberty with ease and now expects me to follow his rules and commands. How absurd.
A few male servants and female maids walk in with a cautious amble. They carried in a big package, and I wondered what the hell was inside. A gun, ropes, whips, or something he'd use to torture me while I stayed with him? Or maybe something he'd use to ensure my submissiveness? However, the package was opened, and I was handed this beautiful dress. Beside it was a velvet pouch, and I realized just what it was.
I sat, unmoved by everything. Roman walked towards me and picked up the pouch. He unzipped it all the way to the end, and I saw the ring sparkle. I wondered how many karats it was, but that didn't matter for now. He took my right hand and slid it onto my index finger. I was lost for words.
“Your dress and accessories are ready,” he said. “I expect you to get dressed so we can meet the press.”
“I won't wear something tacky.”
“What do you mean?” He asked.
“I won't feel comfortable wearing cheap clothing that probably won't fit. If you want me to get dressed, you should bring my wardrobe from Russia.
He smiled and nodded for a moment, then looked up at me, raising a brow. I shrugged my shoulders, and he simply unzipped the dress cover.
“You don't have to worry. I won't make you wear any cheap clothes. It's couture, from the best fashion house in Manhattan.”
“When did you get the time to do all this?”
“I can do whatever the fuck I want the way I want. Now, get dressed.” He walked out the door, and I thought he was crazy to underestimate me the way he did.
**********
By the time we stepped outside of his mansion, I felt like my whole world was akimbo. The flash from the cameras and the enthusiastic look on the people's faces made me nauseous.I usually love attention, but not this kind. This was just a reminder of how powerless he had made me. I wanted to prove myself and make Roman pay for keeping me as his hostage. But it would have to wait.
The reporters kept asking their questions about the state of the kidnapped princess and if it was true that he really kidnapped me. A part of me felt the urge of blurting out the real story. I badly wanted to cry for help so someone could rescue me. Yet, Roman held my hand, and his smile felt fearless. He looked at me as though I were some sort of prize or something. If only he knew how much I resented him, he'd be more careful around me. But what I feared the most was having to play along with the moment.
He moved me closer to him, looked at me, told me to smile, and angled his face toward the press. Their eyes pleaded with me, and I knew that they wanted me to speak. I felt my cheeks rise while my lips curled up. I knew I had to say something, but their anticipation of hearing what I had to say made me slightly confused. The truth of my kidnapping should be known, yet I kept thinking of the perfect lie. So I sighed, summoning the courage I've always had in myself, before my lips parted and the words began to come out.
“Thank you for coming.” I started, while a blond lady to my left kept saying that I should explain how I was kidnapped.
“It's all false,” I said. “Whatever misconception you have, Roman is not what you think. What happened in Russia wasn't an abduction. Roman and I have been dating for some time now, but it's been a secret for so long, I was thrilled to watch him bend the knee and offer me this beautiful ring as a proposal.” The smile on the faces of the press was proof that they believed my story, so I went on.
“This, I believe, will strengthen partnerships and relationships around the world. But I need everyone to know that I'm safe and fine.”
The lights from the huge bulbs kept flashing, and I heard more questions thrown towards me, but I couldn't get myself together to respond. So we walked back inside, and my heart began to beat in a sort of rage. Who the hell did Roman think he was?
“Good job,” he said, and I hissed at him.
“You cannot use me as a prop.”
Roman's gaze showed a hint of irritation at what I said. His forehead creased, and I was nervous about whatever it was he was going to say or do, until his mouth opened.
“You should be grateful that I married you. And let me remind you that I could kill you just to clear all the debts your father owes us.”
My pulse intensified. I wanted him to feel pain and torment. I wanted Roman to feel goddamn powerless in the very way he made me feel. So I looked at him and uttered more fearlessly than ever.
“Kill me? Do you think killing me would bring you money or any benefit at all? You call this marriage a privilege, but I know that all you intend to do is to use me. But I'm not a puppet. You're mean and full of yourself, yet you expect me to be grateful for a forced marriage? I will never be grateful for such a disgrace.”
Roman sighed and walked towards me until we were only a few inches apart. His hand reached my back, and he pulled me close to himself. His eyes felt cold, and his touch caused fear to trickle through me.
“I'm right, Liza. I'm always right,” he said. “And just for your information, I don't need to be nice to you. I intend to break you from the inside out in ways you possibly can't imagine,until you reveal all the details about your father's underground business. And then I'll punish him. I'll make him pay for all he owes and make him know that he should never have messed with us. Never. He made the wrong choice. Now is the time for him to face the consequences of his actions.”
I pushed him away from me, but he didn't even budge. His beauty was wicked. His smile was evil, and I lacked the words to describe how badly I wanted him out of my sight.
“You've lost your mind.” I managed to say. I knew that he meant every word he said, and it made me fear for myself. If he truly had this in mind for my dad, what more could he have in store for me? So many questions ran through my mind that I just couldn't ask. Not that I feared what he might do to me, but because I knew that none of my questions mattered. Then it occurred to me that the only evidence against my dad was in my possession, and I had to get rid of it fast.
So I ran upstairs to the bedroom where my bags were. I opened them up and searched for the drive that I hid in the bottom. If anyone at all should get their hands on the drive, I knew it was over. The drive was the proof they needed to expose my father, and I didn't want that. His escape only made things harder for me. I knew that Dad's enemies would come for me someday, and I hated being placed in such a vulnerable spot.
