Page 24

Standing at the end of the table, my hands placed one over the other on the back of the chair, I take deep breaths as I wait for him. Then the creak of the door pricks my ears, the click when it shuts. I straighten myself and swallow thickly as I hear his footsteps lumbering down the little hallway. A bead of sweat seeps through my forehead, like my fear is too much and it itself is trying to escape my situation.

Breathe in. Breathe out.

“Good evening, Sir.” I’m surprised my voice doesn’t stumble out in a heap of stuttering sounds. He looks at the table, then takes a seat and immediately downs a large swig of the whiskey.

“This is nice.” his gruff voice strikes a chord in me, sending a shiver down my spine. Compliment or not, I’m not safe with him.

“Thank you, Sir.”

I stand silently, head bowed, and eyes closed while he eats his meal and sips his drink. I serve him a glass of iced water upon his request, then retreat to my post at the end of the table.

Breathe in. Breathe out.

Clink.

In. Out.

Screech.

Steak. What were you thinking, serving him steak? You gave him a knife.

I swallow thickly and lace my trembling fingers together in a feeble attempt to stifle them. It’s not just my fingers. My breaths are shallow, my core unstable. My body is screaming at me.

My mother is screaming at me.

Run!

Rather than listen to my inner voice, I steel myself against the constant threat opposite me. It feels silly to fear such a weak man. He’s been around as long as I can remember, taking all his unregulated emotions out on my mother, brother, and me. Only a weak man hurts women and children.

And thus, the weak are the most dangerous among us.

I never understood why he treated us this way. All I know now is that whenever I’m within remote proximity to him, my limbs shake, my breathing stalls, and my mother’s voice screaming for me to run rings in my ears.

Silence.

It’s silent…

Taking in a slow, deep breath, I flutter my eyes open and meet his deep blue eyes staring at me from across the table.

“Well, out with it,” he says, taking the last sip of his whiskey.

“I have a request… I want to move out and find a place of my own in town. I just need your explicit written permission.”

“No.” He slides his chair back and presses his hands on the table to stand.

“Please, Sir.” I throw the words out, panic rising in my chest. “I saved a baby during my field training. She’s at the Petrov’s home for children.” Richard shakes his head and starts toward the liquor cabinet. “I want to take her in.” He unscrews the whiskey, filling his glass again. “I could still stop by to keep the house clean and leave dinner on the table. Then I’d be gone, and you wouldn’t have to deal with me anymore.”

“Why on Earth would I give away my only bargaining chip?” He takes a sip of the whiskey. “You’re going to the Lazeroff’s. They won’t have you bringing a baby.”

Bargaining chip? I’m your niece…

“This deal could have been done four years ago. Are you sure this is what Marcus wants?” I haven’t seen Marcus since he and his family moved to Blackmoor.

“They’re paying a lot of money for you. Sir Lazeroff is working on Marcus.”

“How much money? I will transfer my entire allowance to you.” He leans back against the counter; his arms crossed over his round belly. The posture might seem tame, contemplating, at ease. But the wrinkles on his forehead and on either side of his nostrils tell a different story. “You can have it all. I just want my freedom.”

He laughs. My heart sinks.