“That’s impossible!” I gasp, staring up at him. “You can’t force me to marry someone against my will!”
He laughs at me, holding me too him, still looking down into my face. “It’s possible if I say it is.”
I press my hands against his chest, trying to push away. “It’s 2023! Nobody has arranged marriages anymore – this isn’t the eighteenth century!”
He laughs again and lets me go. I skitter away from him.
“You’re in my world now, Fay,” he says, calmly putting his hands in his pockets. “The world you were born to. Do you think laws really matter in the underworld, the world outside of the stupid bureaucracy you’ve deluded yourself into thinking keeps you safe?”
My jaw drops open at this arrogance. “I have rights!”
“You have nothing,” he barks, taking a step forward towards me. “The only thing that matters is power. Which is money. Which is might. You have none of this. The only thing which gives you anything in this world, Fay, is your bloodline.”
His eyes flick now to the piece of paper which lays crumpled on the floor. “Which you are so eager to dismiss.”
“But,” I say, falling a few steps back, trying to comprehend this. “There are…laws…” I say, a little pathetically.
“There were laws that put me in prison,” he purrs, coming even closer. “And your own recommendation that I stay imprisoned forever. But here I am,” he spreads his hands out, demonstrative.
“Me, and men like me, Fay? Like your father? We control all of it. So, if I were you,” he looms over me again. “I’d be a little more grateful that I got you out of the club and restored you to the life of privilege to which you were born.”
I look up at him, truly terrified now, realizing that my life as I knew it is…completely gone. With one test, he’s wiped it away.
I’m trapped now, in this world – as the daughter of a don, engaged – oh my god, engaged – to the son of another. There’s no way I’m getting out.
As tears start to drip from my eyes, he shocks me by pulling a handkerchief from his breast pocket and offering it to me. Slowly, hesitant, I take it.
“There’s much you don’t know, Fay,” he says. “But you’ll have to learn fast. I’ve notified your father – he’s away on business, but he’ll be back in two days, and he’ll want to meet you.”
I gasp, horrified – Alden has almost as bad a reputation as Kent Lippert. God, what a contrast to my gentle dad, sitting at home. My mind suddenly shifts to dad, who must be worried about me. I start to cry harder, putting my face in my hands.
“Please,” I say, my voice hiccupping with tears, with shock, with fear, “please let me go home – I’m begging you – I just want to pretend it never happened – I’ll never tell anyone –”
“No, Fay,” he says, stern. He glances at the door, and I can tell he’s getting tired of my wild emotions. “There’s no going home, ever again.”
I stare up at him, the tears still slipping down my cheeks, and feel my emotions change from desperation and agony to anger.
“You’re a monster,” I cry between my tears. “You’re ruining three lives tonight, just so you can get your way. A monster.”
Kent shocks me, then, by leaning forward and taking my chin in his hand. He smiles, bringing his face close to mine, and says, “Did you really think that was going to work on me, Fay? Calling me names?” He shocks me, then, by lifting his other hand to my face and wiping away a tear from my cheek with his thumb.
Then, slowly, he raises his thumb to his mouth and slips it inside, savoring the taste of my tears. “I told you before, I like my kittens with claws.”
Outraged, I try to push past him for the door but he laughs, faster than me, and puts out a hand that catches me in the chest. Another light shove – as he did before – and I’m knocked back onto the lounge.
“I’m not completely the monster you think I am, Fay,” he says, walking casually for the door. “After all, I’m going to let you say goodbye.”
He opens the door wide and waves a hand through it. “A car is waiting to take you to your father’s house, where you will pack a bag. You will say your goodbyes and then return here, where I will keep you safe until your true father comes to claim you.”
I stare into his face, pleading in my eyes. “Please. Please just let me go home, let me stay there. I’ll never bother you again.”
He shakes his hand slowly, beginning to close the door, as if the offer is ending soon. “You can go home and say goodbye, Fay. Or you can just stay here and let him wonder where you went.”
Made desperate by the sight of the closing door, I get to my shaky feet and rush towards it, heading out. As I pass over the threshold, Kent murmurs “good girl.”
I glare back at him over my shoulder as a bodyguard takes me by the arm and leads me down the stairs.
Thirty minutes later, just as the sun is starting to come up, we pull up outside my small house. I had given the driver the address when we got in. The three bodyguards who accompany me ride in silence until we arrive. Lippert didn’t come with us.
I jump from the car and brush past the body guards, throwing myself through the front door, which is never locked.
“Fay?” I hear my dad’s anxious voice call from the kitchen. “Janeen?” I dash into the kitchen and throw myself into his arms, crying, as the three bodyguards follow me.
“Oh my god, Fay,” he says, wrapping me up in his arms. “I was so worried –“ he glances the men over my shoulder. “What…what’s happening?”
“Dad,” I say, looking up at him, desperate. “Please tell me this is all a mistake – that he’s not my real father -”
“What?” he says, shooting anxious glances between me and the guards, who stand calmly in the room. They let us have our moment, but their threat is evident. Time is short.
“Do you know who my biological dad is?” I say, wiping my tears from my face with the heels of my palms.
“No…” he says, hesitating, and I can sense the lie in his words.
“Dad,” I plead, wrapping my hands in the lapels of his pajamas. “Please, dad, tell me what you know.”
“It doesn’t matter who your biological dad is, Fay,” he says, looking down at me seriously. “It never has. I’m your father.”
“Who is he, Dad?” I press.
He narrows my eyes at me. “What do you know, Fay,” he says, his voice low. “This is dangerous territory – who are these men –“
“Then you know,” I say, shocked, my words hardly breath. “You know the truth – it’s real –“
My dad pulls me to him, seeking to put me behind him, but the guards step forward.
“We’ll go,” dad says to the guards, putting out a hand. “We’ll disappear, you’ll never see us again, never have any trouble –“
“No, sir,” one of the guards says. “I’m afraid that’s not possible.” With a distinct look at the other men, all three spring into action. One comes forward, wrapping his arms around me, locking me within his grasp. I scream and thrash, desperate.
The other two grab my dad – wrap his arms around his back – tie them – a gag in his mouth – a bag – oh my god a black bag over his head – it all happens in seconds.
“Let’s move,” my guard says, slapping a hand over my mouth, and the two men lift up my dad and carry him out the front door. Deftly, without being seen, they tuck him inside the trunk as I’m placed into the back seat of the car.
My mind struggles to comprehend this as I scream and flail against the guards that climb into the car on either side of me. One wraps his arms around me, holding me still.
“Miss, if you continue this,” he says, “we’ll have to use the chloroform again. We’d rather not do that.” Within his voice is the unsaid threat, but we will.
I still, then, realizing that this – too – is out of my control. Suddenly exhausted, I again burst again into tears, burying my face in my hands.
“Back to the house,” the second guard says to the driver. Without a word, he pulls away from the curb.