The air in the study grew thick with unspoken words as Father's gaze fell upon my bare feet. I barely had time to blush before a shadow detached itself from the doorway - a man in a black suit, whispering urgently into Father's ear. Father's face, usually so expressive, became a mask of cold stone.
"I'll be right there with you," he dismissed the man, but the figure stood rooted to the spot.
Father's voice, now a low, dangerous rumble that commanded the very air, cut through the tension: "I said, I will be there with you. Get out. I need some time with my daughter."
He turned to me, his eyes burning with an intensity I had never seen. "Anne, you will go to the carriage. You will go home. Your mother will be waiting, eager for your 'girlish talks' or 'ladies' spite,' as she so charmingly puts it."
He tossed his jacket and hat towards me. "Wear these. Immediately. I go upstairs, you go through the main door. No one will dare stop you." The finality in his tone was the only warning I needed; the world outside this room had just become a much more dangerous place.
Where's your bag, Anne?" He demanded, snatching his jacket from the chair. His voice was sharp, a sudden chill in the air. "I had placed it...."
He paused then, his gaze sharp upon me " You went upstairs, didn't you? He accused, his words laced with a simmering rage.
"Father, the heavens bear me witness that I was not nosing around!" I pleaded, my voice trembling. I was simply looking for a more quiet place; for the music gave me the most insufferable headache.
His anger flared, a storm in his eyes. " You'll have to discard the bag, I'll get you a new one; it would be better," he said, roughly guiding me towards the door.
But then he paused again, a flicker of panic crossing his features as he remembered a crucial detail. "No! No, we can't leave the bag! He can't know you were upstairs! "You'll have to go up then to get the bag, while you are doing that, I'll be in the VIP, under no circumstance should you enter that room, I forbid you in that room, Anne!" He glared at me.
"I care not if you are dying of an unbearable throat pain, i care not if you faint, you shall not enter that room, Anne!" Go home and speak to your mother, or go home and reflect up on your disobedience and dishonesty, for I did not raise a lying daughter. You should be utterly ashamed of yourself, Anne!"
His voice softened slightly, a hint of remorse flickering in his eyes. "Fetch your bag and shoes at once, and take your leave." He said as he turned his back towards and me and took his leave.
...
I sprinted up the stairs in a frantic panic. I'd left my bag where the vase was, but no—just like the shoes, both the bag and the vase had vanished. I was about to turn back when the floor disappeared beneath me; I felt myself falling, blacking out. Then, someone caught me, speaking a language I couldn't understand.
...
"You sent for me, Lucian?" Lord Williams inquired, as Lucian calmly lit a Turkish cigarette.
"That, Lord Williams, is rather a poor way to commence a conversation," Lucian replied, exhaling the fumes of the smoke.
I merely seek a game of chess with an old friend, is that so much to ask?"
"Bullshit, utter bullshit!" Lord Williams raged, his voice echoing in the chamber, You never 'merely ask' for someone. Not after the whispers I've heard. I have been awaiting this summons".
What do you desire, Lucian.
"Nothing more but to gift out punishment to those unfaithful to me, Lucian stated, his eyes cold. "You took a piece that was not yours in chess; that single mistake costs the entire game".
"Sit, "Lucian commanded, and Lord Williams found himself not too gently nudged to his chair. The chess board was already arranged on the table between them.
Lucian made the first move, advancing the white King's pawn two squares forward.
Lord Williams remained seated at the board, neither moving the pieces nor making any indication of leaving. Just as Lucian leaned back, losing hope of Lord Williams making a move, he touched his black pawn on c7, advancing it two squares forward to c5.
"What do you want, Lucian?"
"You are beating around the bush," Lord Williams said, without taking his eyes off the chessboard.
"Why don't we discuss this after the game? If you win, I'll tell you why you are here; if I win, I'll take what belongs to me without asking."
"Do we have a deal, Lord Williams?"
"No, certainly not. I am not one to sign an agreement without knowing the conditions. I'm patient, not weak."
"You still have time to comply; after that, I stop being reasonable," Lucian said as he leaned backwards, collecting a gun from his friend Damien.
Your daughter has taken something of mine—a vase of immense value, a vessel that both colors and worth define.
Lord Williams, you and I are aware of my disdain for theft and disobedience. She was meant to be in the main hall. Or perhaps the Duke himself cannot manage his household? I could likely assist you in keeping her in order.
I am willing to let this transgression slide, but we now have a significant issue: she bit the ear of one of my guards. Do you comprehend the difficulty in procuring such loyal men, Lord Williams? Lucian said this, rising from his seat, making a deliberate display of wiping a small knife over and over again.
Your daughter has committed many sins, far too many for simple forgiveness. She walked in on me half-naked, Lucian added, making a distinctive, exaggerated gesture of covering his already clothed chest, drawing laughter from his subordinates.
My daughter would never steal, Lord Williams retorted, struggling to his feet.
Should we bring her in ourselves?
Lord Williams let out a hearty laugh. Well, she is far gone now, to the villa, and I am very sure you are aware of the rules: give Caesar what is Caesar's and God what is God's.
When she is under my roof, she is my property, my property by the desk with a signed document, meaning you have no rights to her, no right to the very hair on her head, But when she's under your roof, she is yours to play with."
A low chuckle escaped Lucian's lips. "Is that right?" he inquired, stepping closer to Lord Williams. Leaning in, he whispered, "Well, you made a deal with the devil."
Just then, a scream from Anne pierced the air, followed by the heavy sound of men barging in.
Anne was gagged, her eyes red and swollen from weeping. Her once-black clothes were stained with blood, which her father suspected came from the guard's ear. Her veil was nowhere to be found. Her hair, a messy, low bun with strands astray, and her makeup smeared across her face. Her lips were dry from the saliva escaping through the cloth used to silence her, and her hands bore the marks of a struggle.
I watched as Anne's eyes widened upon seeing me, a flicker of hope that I might save her. That hope melted away as quickly as it appeared when I stood there, making no move to instruct the guards to release her. She ceased resisting, looking at me as though I had sold her off.
This is precisely why I needed her to avoid him; he was a tiger, a wild beast who broke every spirit, forcing submission.
"Please, let her go. What is it you desire? She is nothing but a child, Lucian; you will find no need or interest in her."
"Well, Lord Williams, render unto Caesar the things which are Caesar's, and unto God the things that are God's," he said, turning to face Anne.
"Right now, I am Caesar, and I want what belongs to me: your daughter."
"You know that is impossible," Lord Williams said, clinging to his last reserve. "Please, anything except Anne."
"Hmm, let me think about that..... Um, NO. I have given it a thought."
"Your daughter must atone for her sins. I shall marry her, but I would never force your blessing. I will grant you two days to reflect upon it and consider the advantages—we would be son-in-law and father-in-law." Lucian said this as he lit another cigarette, this time not for himself, but for his right-hand man, Damien.
...
The oppressive silence of the carriage ride home was only broken by the rhythmic clip-clop of the horses' hooves. Lord Williams stared blankly out the window, the image of Lucian's cold smile and the wafting cigarette smoke burned into his memory. Anne sat opposite him, her hands clasped tightly in her lap, her gaze fixed on the floor.
"Father," she began tentatively, her voice barely a whisper. "He... he cannot force me to marry him, can he? Not without the King's consent, surely?"
Lord Williams sighed deeply, running a trembling hand through his hair. "In this part of the world, my dear, Lucian is the King. His influence runs deeper than the royal courts. He has power we can only imagine."
"But two days," Anne pressed, a flicker of defiance in her eyes. "Thirty days to 'reflect'. What does that mean?"
"A trap, Anne. A cruel, calculated trap," he muttered, his voice thick with despair. "He wants me to break, to hand you over willingly. He wants my blessing to add insult to injury."
"We must run," Anne said, the words coming out in a rush. "We can leave tonight. Go to the coast, take a ship to France or Spain. Anywhere he cannot find us."
Lord Williams shook his head slowly. "He controls the roads, the ports, the guards. There is no escape, not without a miracle." He looked at his daughter, his eyes filled with a parent's fear and regret. "I have failed you, Anne. I should have never brought you into this world of power and greed."
"No, Father," she reached across and placed a hand on his arm. "We will find a way. We have thirty days." The carriage turned down the long, tree-lined driveway of their estate, the house a beacon of false security in the looming darkness. "We will not give up." Anne said her hands resting on her father's.
The carriage wheels screeched to a halt, and before the driver could even open the door, Anne burst out. Her vision blurred by a torrent of tears, she saw her mother and sprinted across the gravel, collapsing into her embrace, clinging to her as if she might vanish. A choked, shuddering sob escaped her lips.
"Shh, shh, my poor baby," Anne's mother, Lady Alice, whispered, her own voice trembling with a mixture of confusion and deep concern.
She gently stroked Anne's disheveled hair, leading her inside towards the sanctuary of the house.
There was no thought of propriety, no mention of a bath or a change of clothes. Lady Alice simply helped her daughter out of the restrictive gown, her fingers fumbling with the fastenings, and laid her gently onto the soft bed. The silence in the room was heavy, broken only by Anne's occasional gasps for air.
Lady Alice didn't know the details of what had transpired at the party, but the raw, visceral fear radiating from her daughter was all the explanation she needed. Her heart pounded with the certain knowledge that something was horribly, irreversibly wrong.
Finally, exhaustion overtook terror. Anne's breathing evened out, and she fell into a deep, necessary sleep, still nestled in her mother's arms.
Lady Alice waited until she was sure before carefully shifting her daughter into a more comfortable position, pulling the covers up high, and quietly slipping out of the room, a profound sense of worry etched across her features.
PART 3
I was a silent observer in the corner, watching as a complex game of chess unfolded before me. Every piece was moved with precise thinking, each player calculating their next, devastating move. The fear, the anger, the raw pain on their faces was palpable—a stark contrast to the absolute satisfaction gleaming on his face.
Then I saw him. He had been standing beside the other man just moments ago, whispering intently to the one who was to be avoided at all costs. It's an old adage: the more you avoid things, the more you walk straight into their arms. I knew she would eventually go upstairs; I just didn't know if she'd gone when he was coming down, or while he was preoccupied with Damien.
Lucian always got his way, one way or another, but he did it with a terrifying brilliance. He knew Anne and her mother would be here tonight. He had meticulously orchestrated every detail, ensuring Damien made the "plus one" on the envelope enchanting enough to guarantee their attendance. He even paid the baker and his wife to stage that scene where he was caught cheating.
He made certain that Lady Alice's ladies-in-waiting overheard the juicy gossip, ensuring they had something utterly hooking and tempting to discuss—like roses in the summer, beautiful but thorny. He had pulled a thousand strings behind the scenes, all to ensure Lord Williams delivered Anna straight into his waiting arms. Exactly where he wanted her.
Well... I will need to visit Anne tomorrow and fulfill my part of the deal, but I cannot help but wonder what Lucian truly wants from her. He was not the type to flirt with ladies nor offer them options. It was bad enough she had gone upstairs; he could use that against her forever.
However, by giving her time to think, knowing she would likely refuse, he definitely has a hidden agenda I definitely do not want to be involved in. I like Anne, but I cannot sacrifice my father's position for mere 'likeness'.
It appears Anne's nightmare has just begun.
PART 1
"Father, you requested my presence." My voice, usually soft, was a brittle thread, barely masking the tremor of anxiety.
"Anne... Anne, my beautiful Anne," Father said, slowly removing his glasses and rubbing the bridge of his nose with a hand that shook slightly. The lines on his face seemed deeper, etched with a new, profound worry.
"Father, what seems to be the problem? Talk to me," I said, reaching down, my fingers brushing his shoulder, a gesture of comfort I hoped would soothe the storm I saw brewing in his eyes.
"The other dukes have removed themselves from my company," he began, his voice heavy with shame. "Worst of all, they aren't giving me a suitable reason why." He paused, the silence in the room amplifying the weight of his next words. "Market is crashing, Anne. At this rate, the only thing keeping us afloat is me being a Duke, and I want to be more than that, Anne."
My heart stopped for a moment when Father made those statements. Father had worked so hard, sacrificed so much to carry his company to where it was currently, only for it to fall. Lucian... Lucian... The name was a poison on my tongue, a silent scream in my mind.
"He's trying to give us no choice, Father." My voice was a whisper, filled with a dawning, terrible realization.
"Anne, what do you mean?" he asked, confusion momentarily overriding his distress.
"Lucian, he's behind this," I stated, the truth a cold, hard stone in my stomach. "He wants you to see the benefits of our marriage... like a transaction. You will give me to him to sustain your dignity and the respect the dukes give you in the boardroom." I turned away, the view from the window blurring through a fresh wave of tears. "He wants me to think I could help you only if I married him. He wants you to trade me for the comfort of our family. He sees our marriage as a mere transaction."
"No, no, Anne, we shouldn't conclude," Father said, following me to the window, his voice laced with a desperate, self-loathing guilt.
"I am about to get married to a monster,I faced him, tears streaming down my face, my composure shattering. "I should not conclude? You tell me not to conclude?" I screamed, my voice raw with anguish, the carefully built walls of my control crumbling.
"father! I am about to trade my life!" I choked on a sob, the sheer weight of his betrayal and my future crashing down on me.
He flinched as if struck, his face pale and etched with a profound, crushing guilt. He could only stand there, silent and defeated, unable to meet my eyes, a testament to the pain his choices had inflicted upon his daughter. Father! I am about to be traded!" The words hung in the air, a testament to my pain.
I do not want to wait anymore, tomorrow I'll marry him It's inevitable, right now I feel like someone waiting to be beheaded you'll know it would happen, I am tired of waiting to see how far he'll take to break me, men like him love it more when thier plaything puts up a fight cause it's going to be a lot sweeter when they finally break you.