Housewife

“Did your uncles forget to teach you manners?” I state.

Irena’s expression towards me was filled with complete disdain, yet no indication of fear was evident.

Why is she remaining silent?

Is she incapable of hearing anything?

Does her mind possess any normality at all?

At that moment, I wrapped my hand around her neck like a snake, waiting for her to cry out in terror. Her eyes were so alive, glistening with sparkling tears as she pleaded with me, begging me not to take her life.

But I needed to hear her voice.

“Answer me,” I demanded, clenching my fingers tighter around her delicate throat. Her skin was soft, like sweet caramel under my grasp. Her breath came in quick, shallow gasps as she fought against my hold.

I studied her face as I cut off her air supply. Fear was etched into her features, her lips parted in a desperate plea for oxygen. Her eyes were wide, staring into mine as she silently begged for a reprieve.

There it is. The fear I was looking for.

All she needed was one breath.

Despite her feeble attempts to resist my hold, I remained steadfast. Just when I thought she had given up, she surges forward, her nails like sharp knives ripping into my flesh, leaving a trail of blood in their wake.

My face contorted with pain as I stumbled backwards, my grip loosening around her neck. A bead of sweat trickled down my forehead as I focused on the throbbing wound on my face.

But something in that moment shifted within me. The anger that had been simmering beneath the surface erupted into a blistering inferno.

A primal desire to take, to destroy, consumed me.

I wanted to take her innocence and twist it into something ugly, to leave her broken and ruined, a mere shadow of her former self. She would be mine, my sinner, forever marked by my touch.

My thoughts were suddenly overtaken by a hot rush of desire as if my very being was consumed by the yearning to conquer her.

My dick in my pants pulsed with an intensity that threatened to betray my emotions.

Her presence was al uring, and as she approached me with a gaze both innocent and haunting, I could feel my body igniting with an inferno of fire.

Her beauty was downright breathtaking, each of her flawless features making my blood rush faster.

As if in a daze, I reached into my pocket for a handkerchief, my mind clouded with thoughts of Irena. Our gazes locked, and I watched as her doe-amber eyes feasted upon me, her chest heaving in anticipation.

My body hummed with barely contained energy, and I struggled to stay composed as I observed her bountiful form. Beneath the layers of her innocence, I sensed an intense heat emanating from within her, begging to be unleashed.

And as our gazes met once more, Irena’s eyes dropped shamelessly to my pulsating bulge, igniting a desire I had no control over.

As I strolled towards the exit, my attention was pulled towards her by the sudden rush of heat in her face. Her cheeks were ablaze with crimson blending with her warm caramel colour, she swiftly diverted her gaze away from me.

As I adjusted the handkerchief in my pocket, my inquisitive eyes snuck another glimpse of her. Every contour of her body bewitched me. My fingers itched to explore her natural curves, but I held back my desire.

Without further ado, I left her alone in one of the offices of her uncle’s mansion.

Upon emerging from the room, Grzegorz was quick to meet me, concealing his distress behind a stoic demeanour. “She doesn’t talk.” I blurted out.

As my gaze locked with Grzegorz’s, I felt his eyes roam over the cut etched across my skin. His brow furrowed with concern, his question slicing through the tension. “Did she do that?”

I narrowed my eyes, biting back the words that threatened to spill forth.

How could he even question who was responsible? It was obvious his stubborn niece was the culprit.

The audacity of this idiotic man.

Obviously, it was the handiwork of his devilishly disobedient niece. I mean, come on, Grzegorz can be a real dumbass sometimes. It’s hard to believe that this dickwad is even related to Jan.

My mind was racing with questions.

Why was she so quiet?

Was she always a mute?

I couldn’t possibly continue my life with a woman who lacked the ability to express herself. It would be like walking hand-in-hand with a grown child.

“She’s not always like this, don’t worry Saint. Irena is usually a chatterbox.

You must be intimidating her,” he quipped, his arms crossed smugly.

I glared at the wretched creature standing before me, scrutinizing his every move.

The charged atmosphere crackled with tension, and the air seemed to pulse with negativity as Grzegorz and I locked eyes. I could barely contain my fury, itching to pummelled his thick skull until it broke. But before I could move, my trusty companion Prince strode up to us and broke the silence.

“Saint,” Prince said, his voice even and unwavering. “They’re ready to talk about Irena Nowak.”

I gave him a curt nod, flicking my eyes towards Grzegorz one last time before Prince left. With him gone, I stepped forward, closing the gap between Grzegorz and myself.

“I want to make one thing clear, Grzegorz,” I spat, my voice low and dangerous. “The only thing keeping you alive right now is your dead brother.

You’re a disorganized, two-faced coward, and you’re nothing to me. Just because I haven’t touched you yet doesn’t mean you have my trust or respect.

”Got it?”

Grzegorz bristled, his eyes flashing with a desperate need for control. But he knew, and I knew, who was truly in charge.

“Got it,” he muttered grudgingly.

I nodded slowly, my eyes piercing as I fixed him with a stern look.

Although I’ve previously been hesitant to consider arranged marriages, this particular proposal piqued my interest with its advantageous perks that offer potential benefits down the line. As an added bonus, it’s an equitable agreement, with Grzegorz and I equally responsible for meeting our respective obligations.

With a deep breath, I gently straightened my tie and gracefully stepped back without uttering another syllable. As I walked towards the other office, all the men were already gathered, their minds buzzing with ideas, waiting for me to join them. A few seconds later, Grzegorz sauntered in. Making my way towards my trusted men, Prince and Zoltan, I took a seat, feeling the weight of responsibility settle on my shoulders.

“Let’s talk about Miss. Nowak?” Anatol’s voice broke the silence.

IRENA

As the hours ticked by, I found myself trapped in Anatol’s study with only one thing on my mind – Saint. The memory of his hands tightening around my neck lingered, causing a knot of revulsion to form in my stomach.

Despite his violent grip, he hadn’t actually harmed me…yet.

The question of whether he would prove to be a better captor than Viktor, or a worse one, weighed heavily on my mind, making me tense with apprehension.

For as long as I can remember, I have yearned for the bittersweet taste of freedom. The kind that fills your lungs with the crisp scent of adventure and ignites a burning desire to chase after whatever sets your soul ablaze. It is an insatiable thirst that follows me everywhere I go, urging me to run away from this life and never look back.

A new world awaits me in a far-off corner of the universe, beckoning me with promises of simplicity and serenity. A place where I can shed my old skin and take on a new identity, one that speaks to the very core of my being.

Somewhere I can live in a quaint little house, surrounded by the beauty of nature, and revel in the simple pleasures of life.

Perhaps, if the fates align and serendipity smiles upon me, I will have the opportunity to turn my wildest dream into a reality. I will become a local pianist, captivating audiences with the mesmerizing melodies that I create.

Every note will be an ode to the life I have left behind, and each chord will resonate with a sense of newfound liberation.

This is my one true wish, the life that I am willing to sacrifice everything for. I will abandon all my fears and cast away the shackles that have bound me for so long, in pursuit of a dream that will take me to the stars and back. A life where I am free to roam the world, without a care in the world, knowing that each day is another step towards fulfilling my destiny.

I couldn’t help but think of the beauty but there’s a stark contrast to the fear that gripped me. I knew I couldn’t live like this any longer, yet here I was, trapped in this room as dangerous men lurked just across the hal way.

As I reached for the book, memories of my past flooded back – memories of fear, of being trapped, of signing my freedom away. My heart raced as I clutched the book tight.

But something drew me to the golden roses on the spine.

Roses.

My heart skips a beat at the sight of a rose, especially if it’s pure and white.

Ever since I was a young girl, their magical allure has enchanted me. I view them as an emblem of fortune and pray that with unwavering determination, one day I too will pen the final chapter of my fairy tale, and find my happily ever after.

I opened the book, the pages creaking with age, and started to read.

Soon, the words on the page enveloped me, pulling me into a world of love, passion, and freedom. It was then that I realized that the power of literature lies not just in its ability to entertain, but in its potential to set us free from our fears, to inspire courage, and to ignite hope within us.

And with that thought, I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and signed my freedom away from the dangerous men across the hall – not to the devil, but to the power of literature and the hope it brings.

Just as I was delving deep into my own musings, the door creaked open and I was immediately jolted back to reality. My eyes darted towards the entrance, beholding the imposing figure of Anatol as he strode towards me.

I stood there motionless, my gaze fixed upon his every move. The frigid air in the room was palpable, and I could feel my nerves beginning to fray at the edges.

Suddenly, he reached for his mini bar and poured himself a generous shot of brandy. Gulping it down in one swift motion, he turned to face me and pierced me with his icy stare.

As he filled his glass with the fiery, amber liquid, I could feel my heart racing with anticipation.

Heavenly Father I silently prayed, please shield me from whatever wrath is about to be unleashed.

As I retreat a couple of paces, my spine connects with the shelf behind me, creating a dull thud. Anatol, however, seems unfazed by my stumble as he remains rooted, his keen gaze fixed on mine, his drink in hand, and his left hand comfortably nestled in his pocket.

“You know Grzegorz should be the one to lecture you. Not me.” he spat, with a hint of bitterness seeping through his words. My throat dried up as I nervously gulped down a swallow.

“Now, why don’t you explain to me why you felt the need to act like a spoiled brat today,” Anatol continued, his tone laced with frustration. I struggled to find the right words to say. But with Anatol’s intense stare, my mind seemed to go blank. He rarely showed his emotions, which made me all the more uneasy. While his exterior remained calm, the fire in his eyes told another story.

“So, Irena, I’m waiting,” he said.

I licked my lips, my heart beating faster than ever before.

“Answer me Irena!” he roars, flinging the glass across the room in fury. The echoes of shattering glass reverberate through my skull like a marching band.

Trembling with fear, I flinch and avert my gaze. But he won’t let me hide; he wrenches my face toward him with a grip like steel. I squeeze my eyes shut, waiting for the storm to pass.

“Thanks to you, Saint extended the contract. Now we’re cursed to tolerate your presence for two fucking months. Two whole months of teaching a grown woman some godforsaken manners!” he bellows, spittle flying from his lips. My stomach roils in disgust, my lips quivering helplessly. “If it wasn’t for Saint’s protection, I swear I would have…”

Anatol’s breath catches in his throat as he relinquishes his grip on my face and strides out of his study with fiery indignation.

“Escort the girl to her room!” his voice booms down the hall, prompting two guards to barge into the room and seize me by the arm. Despite my best efforts to break free from their vice-like grasp, I am forcefully dragged through the twists and turns of the house.

When we finally arrive at my room, my captors violently shove me into my room and slam the door shut. The sound of a lock clicking into place echoes through the oppressive silence as the footsteps of house guards gradually dissipate.

My room is cloaked in darkness, a reflection of the shadows that have enveloped my heart. A metallic taste fills my mouth as my tears, shimmering like diamonds in the dim light, roll down my cheeks. I lean against the door, seeking solace in the coolness of the wood. But there is no solace to be found.

Why do they hate me so much? We share blood, but their words and actions cut me deeper than any foe’s sword. I cannot help but wonder what sin I have committed to deserve such relentless torture. The question echoes through my head, reverberating in the emptiness. I pour out my anguish, each tear bearing witness to the depths of my pain. And still, no answer comes.

Anger seethes within me, potent and fierce. It’s all I have left amidst the shattered remnants of my heart. It bubbles, boiling over until I can no longer contain it. A scream tears from my throat, shattering the silence that has held me captive.

There is no escaping the truth. I am trapped, ensnared in a world where love has soured and family has become my captor.