Page 35 of The Seller

I thought it was over. I thought it was over and I thought I had control, but there’s no control in this world. There’s only men who think they know what’s best for me, and it’s always them. I’m so fucking scared, and so fucking angry I can hardly think.

A moment ago I was missing him, day dreaming about him, but seeing him changes all of that. Stavros is much, much more frightening in person than he is in my imagination. I had forgotten the force of his presence. The last time I saw him, he was unconscious. I guess I felt guilty about leaving him that way, but it is clear he survived, and that he’s come for me again.

So many things were left unsaid between us. He knows I used him to escape a forced marriage. He also knows that his home was attacked and he was personally harmed because I didn’t tell him any of that, so I don’t know if he’s exactly sympathetic to me. I put him in danger, and Stavros isn’t the kind of man who likes being put in danger by women who lie. Hardly any men are.

My first thought upon seeing him is that he’s here for revenge. He might be smiling, but that doesn’t mean anything. He’s at his most dangerous when he looks unassuming.

“I’m not here to hurt you, Siri.”

That’s exactly what someone who was going to hurt me would say.

Fair or not, seeing Stavros brings back all the memories I thought I had left behind. I have worked every day to forget the life I used to have. My father. The marriage I didn’t want. My desperation. My fear. I pretended that none of it ever happened, but he brings it all rushing back, and I can’t get away from him fast enough.

As I back away, my men get in front of me and usher him back toward the ship he came from. He’s going to have to get back on the ship and sail with the tide. He doesn’t want to do that, of course. I can hear them arguing as I walk away. He doesn’t have a hope in hell of winning. I chose my men carefully. I made sure they were capable of protecting me.

Voices are starting to be raised. If I’m not mistaken, weapons are being drawn. When I turn back, Stavros is standing in the middle of them, tall and dark and angry. Most men would be dwarfed by them, but he’s not. He’s taller than I remembered. Somehow, more handsome too. That Greek blood burns brighter in Norwegian cold.

Why did he have to come? Why couldn’t he remain a memory in the past? I could have missed him forever and eventually lived a normal life, but seeing him reminds me that I’m not normal, and that any attempt at normalcy is just me lying to myself. When he is near, I cannot tell those lies anymore and I hate him for that.

I can hear the conversation as it gets louder, carrying across the frosty docks.

“I just want to talk to her!” Stavros is saying. He’s trying to stay calm and collected, but my men are having none of it. They know a predator when they see one.

“She doesn’t want to talk to you,” Hans growls. “Get back on the ship and take the next tide.”

“I’m not leaving until I talk to her.”

“Wrong. You’re leaving. You decide if you leave breathing or not.”

I feel a swelling of pride. I haven’t been here long but the men who were fishermen when I arrived have rallied around me and supported me incredibly. They’re not henchmen, they’re just good men, family men who aren’t going to let me be bullied by this monster.

Stavros refuses to move, even when they start to gather around him, and I know he’s not going to back off. He planned this whole dramatic arrival. He wanted this to be a moment, and he’s not going to be denied what he wants.

That’s when I realize there’s a real problem. The crew on the ship are his crew. We are facing off with two teams of men, both of who are in real danger if this escalates. There’s been enough death on my account for a lifetime. I don’t want any of them to get hurt. Not my men, not Stavros either. Even he has been hurt enough.

“Okay stop!” I call out. “Let him come talk to me.”

They part, staying watchful and wary as Stavros straightens his blazer and walks toward me, his gait stiff and stern. I hate the way my stomach starts to quiver at the merest flicker of his expression.

“What do you want?”

“I wanted to see you,” he says. I can see from the clenching of his jaw that he’s pissed, but he’s trying not to show it. He wants to pretend to be a good person. A small part of me remembers what he would do when he was unhappy with me, how he’d take the belt at his waist and use it on me. Is that what good people do? Do good people lock teenage girls in their basement and plan to sell them? Of course not. He’s not good. He’s never been good. He’s not capable of it. Men like Stavros don’t change.

I have to remind myself that I don’t play by his rules anymore. He doesn’t control me, and he sure isn’t going to wrap that thick leather belt around my bare ass…

“Well, you’ve seen me. So now what?”

“We’re not over, Siri.” Those words send a shiver down my spine, but I can’t give into them. He can’t just step out of a rusty tub and think I’m going to fall at his feet.

“We’re over for me.”

“I don’t believe that.”

“That sounds like a you problem. Not a me problem.”

Stavros

She’s so cold. Like an ice queen. Standing there, wrapped in her wools and furs, her pale blue gaze all the brighter for the light of the snow around her. What I wouldn’t do to have her on her knees again, my hand fisted in her hair, her mouth open, lips parted around my cock…

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