I turn my face away and take a deliberate step back, breaking our strides. Around us couples stop swaying to the music to watch us. We stop in the middle of the dance floor and the couple nearest us glances over.
Magnus goes very still. The silence between us lasts approximately three seconds, and in those three seconds I watch something move behind his eyes that has no business being in them.
Murderous intent to end me.
His hand comes up and takes my chin between his thumb and forefinger and he tilts my face back toward his with the unhurried certainty of a man who considers touching me his right.
“When we are married,” he speaks unhurriedly, causing me to swallow my nerves,“you will be mine to control, Persia. Mine. Once that happens, you will pay for ever refusing me anything I want. You’ll want to learn how to obey quickly, because I won’t be as patient as I am right now.”
I hear the words and I hear them clearly and for a moment my brain simply refuses to process.
I swipe the tip of my tongue over my bottom lip and grip the ends of my suddenly heavy dress. “What?” My heart quivers in a way that makes me feel sick to my stomach. “Whenwe are married?”
Three
Persia
Iwant to raise my hand and land my palm across the smug look on this man’s face, but the permanent sting of the scars on my back remind me of who I am supposed to be.
Obedient. In control. Never show emotions.
I inhale and exhale slowly. The obedient daughter would smile and accept her future being dictated to her.
Magnus looks down and I know he sees the horrified expression on my face. A sob rises up my throat, but I force it back down. I refuse to let this man see me cry.
I lean back and stare up blankly into his dead eyes.“Did you not hear my question?” My voice comes out steadier than I feel. “I think there has been some kind of misunderstanding.”
His brow pinches with what looks like sadistic amusement.“Your father hasn’t told you?” Magnus’ laugh makes the acid in my stomach churn with unease.“Barret is a man of dark humor, indeed.”
Magnus releases his tight grip on my chin and he steps back with the composure of a man returning to normal conversation.“We reached an arrangement this evening. You and I are to be married within the week, my new bride. Your father will explain the details. What did you think this party was for?”
My head shakes before he finishes speaking.“No, you’re wrong. This is my mother’s summer party. She throws it every year.”
The corner of his mouth moves in something that resembles a wolfish smile.“How naive you are. Haven’t you learned by now? Daughters like you are pawns in the games their fathers play. Born only to forge alliances and bear heirs. You’ll understand soon enough. You’ve been mine for a long time. Only you didn’t know it until this minute.”
He taps the end of my nose earning him a growl of resistance from me. He looms over me and brushes a thumb down the side of my face.“I’ve thought of this moment for a long time, my little pussy cat. A long time. He’s promised me you are untouched. For your sake, I hope that is true.”
The acid that rises in my stomach has nothing to do with the champagne.
I pull my hand out of his grip, my heart tumbling over itself.
Magnus reaches a hand out to stroke the pad of his thumb over the scar running along the top of my shoulder that is barely noticeable under the thick straps of my dress.
I brush his hand away.
“This can’t be. My father is low, but this? He wouldn’t.”
I am sure of it. I turn on my heel and I don’t stop until I find my mother among a gaggle of her Country Club friends all sipping on cocktails and gossiping about who the fuck cares.
“Where is he?” I cut in, uncaring of the stares and gasps. How dare I be so rude, right? Screw them.
My mother lets out an exasperated sigh.“Who dear?”
I can barely breathe let alone speak, but I manage to squeeze out my words and not sound as weak in the knees as I feel. “My father.”
Perfect brows rise, but my mother answers despite the worry lines that appear across her forehead.“In his study dear, but he’s not to be…”
I dismiss her next words and turn toward my father’s study. It’s at the end of the east corridor with its dark wood paneling and its smell of pipe tobacco and power. Far from the onlookers who can’t seem to get enough of our little family drama.
