"That wasn't part of the agreement. You said I just had to sign papers." Her feet are planted, and she's being stubborn as hell, but I've had enough with trying to stay patient with her. I force her to get in, and she slaps me a few times as I climb in after her, locking the door so she can’t squirm away from me.
"I said you had to marry me. Married couples live together." I nod at Vuk, and he pulls out and turns toward my side of town. This woman is starting to anger me. I'm losing patience faster and faster.
"This isn't a real marriage," Danica hisses. "You can't make me live with you."
I ignore her protests and keep an iron grip on her arm every time the car slows or stops. I wouldn’t put it past her to throw herself from a moving vehicle if she thinks it'll get her freedom. But she never tries to do it, and I never have to see her blood spilledon the concrete. When we pull up outside my door, she sits stubbornly with her arms crossed and a hard glare on her face.
"You can come in with me, or Vuk can carry you…" I open my door and say, "Your choice."
I'm not ten steps from the car when Vuk opens the door on her side and she willingly climbs out.
Danica follows me inside and stops in the entryway. She looks around at my modest furnishings. I haven't splurged on any art or home decor because I've moved several times to stay less visible. But even this basic place is nicer than the apartment she was renting. There are no stains on walls or ceilings, and the windows are new, not old and drafty.
"This is where you live?" She sounds surprised as she touches the couch gently, eyeing the leather.
Vuk and Jovan wait outside for me like two dogs I brought home who need fed. I like that they're always on standby for whatever my next order will be, and with Danica being a livewire, I'm not sure if I should dismiss them yet. Besides, we have work to do later.
"For now." I drop my keys on the counter. "I move around a lot."
She takes a few more steps into the room where her head drops and she sighs heavily. The tears haven't stopped since I forced her into the car. She's got to be tired of crying. I study the way she stands with her shoulders hunched and her hand splayed on the leather.
This is why I have never dated seriously or ever thought about getting married. I'm not a weak man. I'm headstrong and bossy and I know what I want. I don't care for drama or having to thinkof other people. My job makes it impossible for me to have a conscience or stop long enough to make sure others around me are okay.
So standing here watching her break down angers me. It makes me want to shout at her and shake her until she stops crying.
But a part of me that I silence every time it raises its head knows that's wrong. I can't expect her to be like me, to suck it up and push through and do what she has to do. Danica isn't hard like me. She's soft and delicate and fragile. All the things that I can never be because being that will get me killed.
And in those few seconds that I decide I have to handle this differently than I would a team member, something inside me begins to warm to her, and I find myself sighing and softening.
"Do you want to lie down?" I move to the fridge and pull out a beer. "Or maybe you want a drink?"
Danica's head rises and she nods as she wipes more tears away. "Yes, I'll lie down. Thank you." She looks around, then meets my gaze again. "Where is my bedroom?"
Finally, some sort of small progress. She's at least willing to admit a nap might help her collect herself. "Down the hall on the right. There is just the one bedroom…" I point with the neck of my bottle as I walk toward the couch, and her expression sours again.
"One bedroom? I can't sleep in your room. What do you expect me to do, sleep on the couch?"
If it's not one thing, it's another. This woman is so impossible. "We're married, Danica. What do you think that means?" I can'thelp but glare at her in absolute incredulity. "Married people share a bed."
"Ahh!" she screams and balls her fists up. "I will not sleep in the same bed with you. You're completely out of control!"
I chuckle at how foolish and immature she sounds and immediately think better of it as she picks up the lamp from the table behind her and throws it at me. Anger surges into my chest as I dodge it and it smashes on the wall.
"You're the one who's out of control!"
"You asshole!" she spits before she turns on a heel and marches up the hallway, slamming the door after her.
I stand there looking at the broken ten-dollar lamp on the floor. I got it at a thrift shop for some extra light, and now it appears I'll be visiting the shop for a new one.
This is going to be more challenging than I thought.
I'm sure Danica will see to that.
8
DANICA
I've been pacing for so long my feet are starting to hurt, and I don't even know what time it is. It's drawing dark outside. I probably should’ve been at work already, but I can't seem to make my gut stop roiling with anxious nausea.
