Page 23 of Stolen Vows

"Why a brother?”

"Because..." She trails off for a moment, like she’s not entirely sure she wants to tell me what’s actually on her mind. But then, seeming to think better of playing mysterious, she forces herself to continue.

"Because then I know that my father would have someone to hand the business down to," she admits. "With it just being me, and with my mom not being with us anymore, I know... I know it’s not what he had imagined."

The way she says it, I can tell that this has hung over her head for a long time. She might not want to admit it, maybe not even to herself, but there’s clearly some weight that sits on her shoulders as she tries to contend with everything she is not. I almost want to go over to her and comfort her, but I know that would be risky. Any time I come close to her, I can feel the heat building between us again, the tension, and I know that I can’t let that get the better of me.

"I guess that’s why he was going to marry me to that man," she remarks, managing a small smile. "Some way to make use of the fact I came out female, at least."

That’s all he thought she was good for?It shouldn’t come as a surprise, all things considered. I know what he does to women, how he uses them, how easy it is for him to turn them into husks of their former selves with no humanity to fall back on. But his own daughter... he really must hold women in serious contempt if this is what he’s willing to do to her. Everything Veronica said about him is right.

"Would you have gone through with it?" I ask her. "If it hadn’t been for...?”

She glances up at me, a slight smile quirking up the corners of her lips.

"If it hadn’t been for you busting in and kidnapping me?” she asks. To my surprise, her voice is light, not accusatory, even if she has every right to be. I nod.

"I don’t know," she admits. "I mean, I’m sure I would have. I don’t think Dad would have given me much of a choice, and he’s the kind of man... when he’s angry, you don’t want him to aim it at you, I’ll just say that."

"He would have forced you?”

She shrugs.

"He wouldn’t have had to. He knows that."

My heart pangs, hearing her speak about him like that. She’s already so resigned to her fate, to her place as his pawn, that she doesn’t even seem to realize there’s more out there for her. I know it’s not my job to introduce her to all of it, but there is a part of me that longs to.

"Any other family at the wedding?” I ask her, changing the subject. I should use this to get as much information out of heras I can. Though, truth be told, I am just more interested in listening to what she has to say. She shakes her head again.

"No," she replies. "Most of our family... well, they’re either dead, or they don’t want anything to do with my father. I guess because of his work."

"They’re not part of the game?"

"No, a lot of them are," she replies, furrowing her brow. "Honestly, that always confused me. He has cousins who are involved in... you know, illegal stuff. That’s how he got into all of this in the first place. And yet, these last few years, they have all cut him off. I never see them anymore. I guess they were jealous of all the success or something..."

I grit my teeth. She doesn’t know. She really, really doesn’t know. Because what her father is doing is a hard line for a whole lot of people in this business, even people you might assume could never lay down such a line in the first place. Sex trafficking, selling people’s bodies, it was beyond what we could live with.

Which is why there is so much money in it, why her father has succeeded in building such a powerful and influential empire off the back of it. He’s the only person willing to stoop to those lows to get what he wants, the only bastard bad enough to force people to act in such a way, and even his own family have cut him off now.

At least, the ones who know about it.

"Max?"

She seems to have noticed my silence. I blink and clear my throat. It’s not my job to tell her the truth about her father. It’smy job to keep her here, under wraps, and make sure she doesn’t slip through our fingers. We need her.

Even if there is a part of me that longs for nothing more than to tell her the truth. I’m not sure if it’s a desire that springs from wanting to hurt her, or wanting to free her from the feeling that she has to give that bastard of a father of hers any respect at all.

"What’s wrong?” she presses.

"Nothing," I shoot back swiftly. I straighten up, and nod to the food on the tray in front of her. "Eat. You need to look after yourself."

She gazes up at me for a moment, her eyes heavy-lidded.

"And there I was thinking you wanted to look after me," she shoots back, a small glint flashing in her eyes.

Fuck, there's something about the way she looks at me sometimes that makes it hard for me to think straight, as though every sensible thought in my mind is threatening to give out from underneath me at any moment.

"I’m just keeping you alive," I remind her sharply, my voice laced with a little more anger than I intended.

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