Unwilling Pawn by Measha Stone

Chapter 6

Amelia

Maggie raised her arms high over her head while swaying her hips to the heavy beat of the music. The Music Box was our go-to club for dancing. Tucked away neatly in the north side of the city, we were far enough away from our fathers’ business associates to not have to worry about bumping into anyone that would cause us trouble. We were completely free.

“This DJ is awesome!” Maggie yelled over the music and noise of the dance floor. I dodged the guy beside me as he tried wiggling his hips in my direction and spun around Maggie to get away from him.

“Drink!” I yelled and gestured with my hand to signal I was thirsty. We’d been at the club for an hour and had spent most of it on the dance floor. A thin sheen of sweat covered my brow, and my throat could give the Sahara a run for its money.

She nodded and grabbed hold of my shoulders as I turned around, following me through the dance floor while continuing to dance. Once we stepped off the floor and weaved our way through the high tables and booths set around the bar area, she dropped her hands and stepped to my side.

We each ordered a whiskey sour and waited as the bartender went about making the drink.

“You feeling better?” she yelled into my ear.

I pulled away, my eardrum abused from the noise. “Let’s sit back there!” I pointed toward an empty booth. It was far enough from the DJ stand we should be able to hear each other better.

She grabbed our drinks and carried them to the booth, still waving her ass to the beat.

“So. Better?” she asked with less volume once we were seated. I took a long sip of my drink.

“As good as I can be, considering I’m being married off to an old man.” I took another long pull, enjoying the bite of liquor as it went down my throat. Unless Christian was making good on his threat, and by the morning I’d be engaged to one of the most dangerous men in Chicago.

“Talk to your dad again. He has to understand you’re a free woman. This is America. He can’t tell you who to marry,” she pointed out while swirling the maraschino cherry around her drink.

“To him, I’m just a pawn. Something to be moved around in order for him to get what he wants. It’s all my mother was too.” I downed the rest of my drink. “You know this.” Her father wasn’t any better in that regard, but so far, she’d been able to dodge his meddling. He was too busy with his new wife, and since Maggie had the good head on her shoulders to move out of the house, she was easily forgotten about for the time being.

“He won’t get to control me like your dad tries. So long as I stay out of his hair, he’ll leave me alone.”

I scooted around the u-shaped booth and got to my feet. “We’ll see.” I shook my empty glass. “Need another?”

She pointed at her untouched drink. “No, I’m good. You know, if you do end up getting stuck with the old man, maybe it works out. Maybe you can finally get a job and have a life of your own.”

I shook my head. “Sebastian Gorecki is old school. The few times I’ve been stuck in conversation with him, he asked me about my cooking skills. He talked about the food his mom used to make when he was a kid and asked if I could make the same dishes.”

“Same dishes?” Maggie laughed. “Like what?”

“I don’t even know. I was trying so hard not to punch him in the nose, I wasn’t listening.” I wiggled my empty glass. “I’ll be right back.” I brought my glass back to the bar and slid it toward the bartender who was fixing a drink. “Another whisky sour please.” I pointed.

He looked up from his work and nodded. “Sure thing, hon. Gimme a sec.”

I leaned my forearms against the bar and sighed. A cool breeze blew across my face from the air conditioning vent over the bar. A nice contrast to the heat of the dance floor.

A chill ran down my spine, sending the little hairs on the back of my neck to stand at attention that had nothing to do with the air conditioner. It was as though I were being watched—no, not merely watched, but hunted. I turned around, pressing my back to the bar and surveyed the club. Everything looked normal, but I couldn’t shake the sensation that I was prey.

“Here you go.” The bartender called out from behind me. My head swirled when I spun around to collect my drink, so I grabbed the edge of the bar.

“Whoah, you okay?” he asked, leaning over toward me.

I nodded. “Yeah. I’m good.” I tossed a twenty dollar bill at him to cover the drink and tip and took my drink.

“Hey, you left me out on the floor. I was lonely.” A swampy hand clamped down on my arm.

“Sorry, but I wasn’t interested.” I gently tugged my arm from his grasp. The pelvic thruster from the dance floor had found me. He ran his tongue over the front of his teeth while his eyes did a nosedive down the deep neckline of my dress.

“You just didn’t give me a chance, that’s all.” He grabbed hold of my hips and tried to rock them from side to side, spilling my drink over my hand as I wrenched free.

“Shit.” I shook my hand, sending the droplets flying.

“No worries, babe, I’ll get you another.” He winked and waved at the bartender. “Another round, man!” He pointed down at my half empty glass.

“No. That’s fine.” I waved away the bartender, who shot us a disgruntled look and hurried to the other side of the bar. It was a busy night, and he probably didn’t have time to waste on non-paying customers.

“I’ve seen you here before,” pseudo-Casanova kept chattering. “I’ve been meaning to get your digits.” He said this as though the only thing keeping him from my contact info was his inability to verbalize his desires.

“I’ve been meaning to keep them to myself,” I said, taking a step to the left. He matched my movements and boxed me in against the bar. “I’m sorry, but I have a friend waiting for me.”

“That’s cool. We can add her to our little party.” He winked and sucked his bottom lip into his mouth.

“No thanks.” I pushed past him. Being courteous obviously wasn’t going to work. He needed a more aggressive tact. Fine.

He grabbed hold of my arm and spun me to face him again. This time my glass slipped from my hand and fell to the floor. The glass shattered at my feet.

“Let me go.” I tugged hard.

“Nah, we gotta finish our dance first, pretty girl.” He tugged me toward him, pressing his pelvis into my hip.

I shoved him away as soon as he released his grip on me, startling him for a moment. But it was only a second before he was back at me, now angry at being rejected. He moved closer to me; spittle formed at the corners of his mouth.

“You uppity bitch.”

“Whatever. Just tuck your tail between your legs and go bother someone else.” I rolled my eyes. Why did jerks like him always think calling a woman a bitch was going to break her heart? I’d take being a bitch over his victim any day of the week.

“You heard the woman.” A deep voice boomed from behind me.

My aggressive suitor’s eyes widened as though he were looking straight into the devil’s face. He stepped back from me in one large step, slipping on my spilled drink. Managing to right himself, he nodded.

“I was only talking to her.”

“She’s done talking,” the voice came again, and then a large hand rested on my shoulder. “Go.”

While managing to keep himself on his feet, he knocked into another group while hightailing it back to the dance floor.

The hand on my shoulder squeezed gently, letting me know he hadn’t gone away. As though I couldn’t feel every bit of his presence. Just like in the music room at the party, he soaked up all the energy surrounding us.

I counted slowly to five, sure that I would be able to put on a civil expression by then. Dealing with people my father worked with drained me of energy so easily.

His hand moved away when I turned around to face him. I had to take a step back from him so I could fully see him without tilting my head back.

“Amelia,” his heavy voice dropped between us after a long pause passed.

“Mr. Kaczmarek,” I greeted him with a forced smile.

“Again, I find you somewhere you’re not supposed to be.” He eyed the broken glass on the floor beneath my feet. “Doing what you probably shouldn’t be.”

“He knocked the drink out of my hand,” I explained. Just as I stepped off the broken shards, a staff member of the club came around with a dustpan to clean it up.

I moved out of his way and moved closer to the bar, and further away from Christian Kaczmarek. Really, what was a man like him doing in this club? This wasn’t his scene. This place was for normal people, not for men who could buy the place ten times over without so much as a grimace.

“Thank you. Sorry about that,” I said to the guy carrying the broken pieces away. He made a little wave of his hand toward me, then gave Christian a small nod before hurrying away again.

“How many have you had?” Christian moved to my side. I glanced over at Maggie. Lucas Kaczmarek sat across from her at our booth; he carried the same dark expression as his brother was giving me.

“It’s really none of your business.” I wished I’d had at least one more drink in me before having to deal with him.

“Oh, but it is.” He blocked my view of Maggie.

“And why would it be any of your business what I do?” I heaved a sigh. I hadn’t been saved; I’d only changed irritants.

He leaned over me, his warm lips brushing against the shell of my ear right before he whispered, “Because if you’ve had too much to drink, I’ll wait until tomorrow to correct your behavior.”

My throat dried, and I jerked back from him. “Correct?”

He grinned. The lights of the dance floor swept over his face, making his expression even more unsettling.

“I told you I expected you to be there when I spoke to your father,” he explained, once more leaning toward me.

“He didn’t tell me you were coming over.” I shrugged, an innocent smile playing on my lips.

The grin slipped and he raised two fingers in front of my face. “That’s two things I’ll have to punish you for now. Don’t lie to me again, Amelia.”

Punish?

Did he actually think he could do that?

I laughed, part of it a forced sound and part of it nervousness because he looked like he did believe it. And worse, he could do it.

“You can’t punish me. One, I’m an adult, and two, you’re nothing to me.”

He wrapped his hand around the back of my neck, pulling me closer to him. His fingers tensed, as though warning me not to try and get away from him.

“One, even big girls get spankings, and two, you’re my fiancé, which makes you mine.” His fingers curled into my neck as his mouth captured mine. There was no tenderness, no sweetness, this was a branding. And when he broke away, a satisfied grin back on his lips, the heat rising in me told me he’d done what he’d set out to do.

“Whatever.” I recovered my senses and shoved his arm away from me.

“Don’t walk away, Amelia. If I have to catch you, I won’t wait until I have you home before I lay my belt across your ass.”

I froze. No. He didn’t mean it, and I was in a dance club with at least a thousand people. He couldn’t get away with it.

“I don’t know what you and my father discussed, but I have no plans to marry anyone. And I sure as fuck am not going to let you touch me.” I turned on my heel, ready to dash back to the table and grab Maggie and get out of the club. We needed to go home. Away from men like Christian.

Before I managed two steps, a thick, strong arm settled around my middle, lifting me from the floor.

“I warned you.” Christian’s words vibrated in my ear.

I kicked out, trying to get away from him, trying to catch the attention of anyone around us. But the DJ was switching songs, the beat picked up, and the people who’d been milling around the section had abandoned their tables. I tried to scream out for Maggie, but she had her back to me, and the music swallowed my cry.

I might as well have been a bag of feathers, with as little effort as he used to haul me away from the bar. No matter how much I pushed on his arm, he didn’t budge. I tried to throw my head back at him, but he dodged it perfectly. Soon, too soon, he’d led us out of the club and down a quiet hallway.

“Where are you taking me?” I shouted, though in the silence my words bounced off the walls.

“Somewhere private.”

As we approached the end of the hall, the door opened and out stepped a man equally as large, and just as fierce looking.

“Please! Help me!” I increased my efforts to get free, but the man merely looked from me to Christian.

“I allowed you in my club, I didn’t say you could snatch my customers,” the man said, though his lips twitched. He found it funny! I was being kidnapped and this jerk was laughing.

“I’m not snatching her, Jakub. She’s my fiancé. I just need a few minutes alone with her before I bring her home.”

“No. He’s going to beat me! He said so!” I yelled, kicking the heel of my Sergio Rossi sandal into Christian’s shin.

I only seemed to amuse him more.

“Your fiancé?”

“Yes.” Christian nodded. “We’ll be married on Sunday, and I’ll be out of this damn city by the end of the week.”

The stranger inhaled deeply. “I was just leaving to pick up my wife. The office is yours.”

“No!” I sagged in Christian’s grasp.

“Just lock up when you go. I’ll let the front desk know you’re back here.” Jakub winked in my direction then walked down the hallway. Whistling!

Christian pushed the door open and carried me inside, kicking the door shut behind us. With a flick of his fingers, the door locked, and he carried me to the middle of the room, dropping me to my feet.

“You arrogant ass!” I caught myself on the desk edge to keep from stumbling backward. My throat burned and my stomach ached from his harsh grip.

“Cursing will only make things worse for you, Amelia.” He took a menacing step toward me.

I put up my hands. “No. Don’t come near me. I mean it, Christian. Don’t come any closer.”

His lips quirked up with amusement. “Do you think someone will come save you? Do you think anyone out there will even hear your screams while I lay my belt across that sweet ass of yours?” He took another step forward.

My fight or flight instinct kicked in and I bolted for the door, but Christian was faster. He lunged at me, grabbing my arm and dragging me over to a leather couch.

“Bend over the arm, Amelia.” He let go of me with a shove.

I shook my head. Absolutely not. I was not participating in this madness.

With lightning speed, his hand darted into my hair, wrapping around my thick curls and pulled my head back. He yanked harder, stretching my neck as far as it would go before he leaned over my face. His eyes, now narrow slits of dark anger, fixated on me.

“I warned you to behave. I warned you what would happen. What sort of man would I be if I didn’t deliver what I promised?” His free hand stroked my throat, then wrapped around me, squeezing just enough to get the message across. He could snap me in half with one flick of his wrist.

“I don’t…please, Christian, just let me leave.” Tears stung my eyes. No matter how hard I willed them to go away, to not give away how scared he made me, one slipped down my temple. He licked it away from my skin, searing me with his tongue.

“We’re to be married, Amelia. I will never let you go.”

He released my throat and with his hand still in my hair, pushed me forward over the wide arm of the couch. My toes scrambled to find the floor, to steady myself.

“Christian. Okay. I understand. I get it.” I started to push up from the couch, but his heavy hand pressed me back into position.

“No, you don’t. If you did, you wouldn’t continue to fight me. Learn this now, Amelia. I will never allow bad behavior to go unpunished.”

I flattened my hand on the cushion in front of my face. Maybe if I gave him what he wanted, he’d stop this craziness.

“Lift up your dress,” he ordered from behind me. The jangle of his belt buckle nearly deafened me, the zip of the leather ripping through belt loops of his pants set my nerves aflame. “Don’t make me repeat myself, Amelia.”

With more tears streaking down my cheeks, I reached back and gathered the dress, hauling it up over my ass to my waist. Burying my face into the couch, I fell forward onto my forearms as much as I could without tipping over the arm.

The belt buckle jangled again. Taking a chance, I peeked over my shoulder. He palmed the buckle and doubled the belt once and then once more.

I took a shaky breath.

“You don’t have to do this.”

“Oh, I do.” He touched the small of my back with his left hand, holding me down. “You heard I was in your father’s office, and you snuck out of the house to come here. Then you tried to lie about it when I caught you. Then you disobeyed me again when you tried to walk away.”

“I’m sorry, Christian.” All bravery flew out the window with the prospect of that belt hitting my bare ass. The pink thong I wore wouldn’t do anything to protect me against the leather.

“I don’t want your regret, Amelia. I want your obedience,” he said softly, fanning his fingers over my back.

I tensed, knowing at any second the belt would strike, but nothing happened. Silence stretched on and on, until I convinced myself he was making a point. And now I’d learned what he could do if he wanted to. My body softened.

A quick movement of his arm, and then a blinding pain struck across both of my ass cheeks as his belt kissed my ass. Air sucked into my lungs and froze as again and again the belt crashed over me. Heat blazed across each stripe he laid into me. Hot tears rolled freely down my cheeks.

Afraid to make things even worse, I kept still, taking each strike. My body shook as the quiet tears turned to soft sobs.

He lowered his aim to the curve of my ass, igniting a white-hot flame. In reaction, I kicked out my leg.

“Feet down.” He snapped the leather across my ass again, and I stomped my foot onto the carpet.

He wasn’t finished with me. Over and over again, the belt came down until every flash of pain blurred into the next and a warm current ran all through my body.

And then it was over.

He let go of my back and stepped away from me. I wiped the back of my hand across my cheeks, sure my makeup was probably a mess. He tucked his belt back into the loops and buckled it.

Quietly, he pulled my dress down over my raw ass.

“Up,” he said, pulling on my arm.

Once on my own feet, I turned away from him, smoothing out my hair and wiping my face again.

He’d turned me into a sobbing mess.

Cupping my chin, he tilted my head back until our eyes met. His jaw was still tense, but his eyes had softened.

“I don’t want to marry you,” I said softly, knowing full well he could easily toss me back over the couch for another spanking.

He surprised me by smiling. It was a small smile, and not tender, but he wasn’t ripping off his belt again.

“Would you rather marry Sebastian Gorecki?”

I blinked. Marriage to an old man who would stuff me in an apron or a dangerous man who would consume my very soul. Neither road led me to a happily ever after.

“I hate you both.” My voice shook, but I didn’t care.

He lifted a shoulder. “I don’t mind hate. But I will not tolerate disobedience. Now, come, I’ll get you home. You have a busy day tomorrow.”

My ass throbbed. My throat burned, and my eyes filled with wasteful tears.

I’d left the house to escape this fate.

And here I was walking right toward him.