Sold to the Enemy

‘No!’ Horrified, her eyes flew open. ‘That isn’t what happened.’

‘It doesn’t matter what happened. What matters is what people think happened. I don’t want our family image tarnished with this. I have my reputation to protect.’

Image. It was all about image, not reality. ‘He has his reputation, too. And he’ll deny it because it isn’t true.’ Just thinking of that story in the papers made her feel faint because simmering beneath the layers of pain that he’d deceived her was guilt that she’d let him think he was responsible for the bruises.

Her father’s expression was cold and calculating. ‘Who cares what’s true? Mud sticks. By the time he’s proved it wasn’t the case no one will remember your part in it, just his. People will always wonder. You’ll be the innocent girl he used.’

‘No.’ Selene lifted her chin. ‘I won’t do that to him. I won’t lie.’

There was a deadly silence. ‘Are you saying no to me?’

Her stomach cramped. ‘I can’t do that to him.’

She had money in her bag. If she could just calm the situation there might still be a way to get away. She’d persuade her mother to leave. They could slip away at night. She’d—

He stopped in front of her, too close, his hands clenched into fists that he was getting ready to use. ‘So if you liked being with him so much, why bother coming back?’

She knew better than to mention her mother. ‘I left because I wanted to have some fun. Freedom. Rebellion.’ She made free use of Stefan’s misconception. ‘I’ve been trapped here so long with no life and I wanted to get away. But I don’t actually want to leave my home. Or my family.’ She almost choked on the word because she knew that no family should be like hers. A family was supposed to be a unit knitted together by blood and love. All they had was blood, and too much of that had been shed.

‘So you admit you behaved badly?’ He flexed his fingers. ‘You admit you need discipline?’

The thought of the money in the bag gave her renewed strength. ‘I’m sorry my actions upset you.’

‘What’s in that bag?’

Her knees turned to water. ‘Clothes.’

He grabbed it. Wrenched it from her fingers so hard that he tore the skin.

Selene put her hand to her mouth and tasted blood. Inside that bag were her hopes for the future and she held her breath as he wrenched open the zip and dragged out the contents without care or respect, forcing her to watch as every one of her dreams was slaughtered in front of her.

First to fall was the red dress. That beautiful red dress she’d stuffed into her bag in a gesture of defiance against Stefan. She wished she’d left it. If ever she’d needed proof that hope was ephemeral she had it now as her father took that dress and wrenched it from neck to hem. She couldn’t even pretend that he didn’t know what it meant to her because he watched her face the whole time, and with every rip as she flinched a little more his mouth grew more grim. When the dress was nothing more than torn strips at her feet he kicked the pile of belongings and found her candles.

Selene didn’t realise she’d made a sound but she must have done because he glanced towards her swiftly, eyes narrowed, assessing the significance of what was in his hand.

‘This is it? This is your business idea? Did he laugh at you?’

‘No.’ Her lips felt numb. ‘He thought it was a good idea.’

‘Because he thought he could make a fool of me, not because your business venture has any merit. Is that it? Candles? I’m almost embarrassed a daughter of mine couldn’t have been more creative.’

He picked up the apparently empty bag and her heart stopped because she knew it wasn’t an empty bag and that if he looked there...if he found...

‘That’s it,’ she muttered. ‘There’s nothing else there.’ And of course by saying that she pronounced herself guilty.

He stared at her for a long moment and then took another look at the bag. With those fat, muscular hands that had turned her mother from vivacious to victim he patted it down and unzipped pockets. And she wished she’d worked harder to hide what was hidden there. Because he found it, of course, under the false bottom she’d created—the thick wedge of money tied with a thong because she hadn’t been able to think how else to keep so much cash together.