Captivated by the deadly mafia boss

Dominik

“She’ll come around,” Marcin Garska assures me once his daughter has left the office. I wait until the patter of her bare feet have faded off into silence before I address him.

“I’m not worried about her,” I tell him, moving my hands from my pockets.

“I warn you, she’s a stubborn girl.”

I raise an eyebrow. “She’ll be fine,” I say, but I don’t sense any actual worry from him. He looks almost relieved to be rid of her, and if she’s being hauled off to hell, which I’m sure he believes life married to a Staszek would be, all the better to him.

“I was surprised when your father called.” He’s trying to fill the space of time it’s going to take his daughter to stuff a few outfits into a bag.

“Why’s that?” I ask, picking up the photo frame on his desk. It’s a picture of his family. When they were a family. Diana is sitting on Marcin’s lap, smiling for the camera while her father wraps his arms around her middle. Kasia, stands between her parents, a forced smile on her lips.

“Well, I know he’s having some issues-”

“Issues that this alliance will help clear up,” I cut him off. He seems to think we don’t know what sort of underhanded shit he’s been pulling over the years. Greasing palms is just part of living in Chicago for men like us, but he’s been doing more. He’s the reason my father’s living in Warsaw right now, hiding from the government. But Marcin thinks he’s too smart to get caught.

“Yes, of course. My resources are yours. Now that we will be family, we help each other,” he says, but bitterness lays beneath his words.

“He’ll be happy to hear that.” I put the photograph back on his desk. “Kasia has finished school, you said. What did she finish for?”

“A degree in teaching,” he scoffs, like it’s the worst profession someone could have. My own mother was a schoolteacher before she married my father. But a man like Marcin Garska doesn’t appreciate actual work. He’s taken over his family from his father, whereas my father created our strength. He brought the Staszek family name up from nothing. It’s something to be admired, but not to a man like Marcin. To him, we aren’t as skilled, not as powerful. But he’s wrong.

“And did she pick her degree or did you?” I ask, but I already have an idea.

“I chose for her,” he says while raising his chin. “It’s what’s best for her.”

“To earn a degree doing a job you find disgusting?” I ask.

“She wanted to go to college. I let her.” He actually thinks he was being generous.

Walking around his office, I spy another photograph. This time it’s just him and the girls. They are smaller, much younger. Diana is laughing, sitting on Marcin’s shoulders, while Kasia, stands beside him, tugging on his shirt.

My jaw clenches.

“How is your sister? Your brother?” Marcin asks. I turn from the bookshelf where the photo is kept.

“Both are fine.” I don’t want to talk about them. I don’t want to talk to him at all. I check my watch.

“She’ll be down soon,” he promises.

“I could help her,” I suggest.Text © owned by NôvelDrama.Org.

“Christopher,” Marcin calls toward the door. One of his men steps inside the office. “Get Kasia from her room. Dominik is ready to leave,” he states firmly. I don’t miss the bitter way he speaks her name.

While the man scampers off to fetch my fiance, I turn to the attorney standing in the corner of the room. There’s no need for him here, but Marcin insisted.

“You handle all of the Garska legal issues?” I ask him.

He clears his throat and nods. “Yes, well, I have associates that help from time to time.”

“You’ll be sending the agreement over then. Confirmation that the terms have been seen to?”

He flicks his gaze to Marcin, then back. Maybe I should wait while he fetches the documents now.

“I’ll have them to you by the end of the day,” he promises.

“Good.”

“She’s ready,” Christopher returns, poking his head into the office.

I take a look at Marcin. A father should have some reaction to his only child being carted off in the middle of the night. He has none. A figure of stone watching me from behind his damn desk.

“We’ll be going then. Do you want a moment alone with her?” I ask. Shouldn’t a father say goodbye to his daughter? If my sister were in Kasia’s place-I don’t finish the thought. Joseph Staszek would never allow such an arrangement for his daughter.

“No. I’ll speak to her tomorrow. Once she’s settled.” He pauses. “I don’t want to keep you waiting any longer than you have,” he adds. Maybe he senses his reaction isn’t normal.

“I’ll let you know when she’s… settled,” I say, marching from the office.

Kasia stands at the foot of the staircase. One of my men already has her bag in his hands, waiting for my instructions. I wave him off, and he scurries out to the car to put her things away.

She’s changed out of the too-tight dress that barely covered her ass into a pair of black yoga pants and a white t-shirt. The neckline has been torn out, so the shirt is angled. Her left shoulder sticks out. Her hair is loose around her shoulders, the long locks in thick waves. She’s washed off the makeup. There’s a subtle beauty to her. Natural. The dark lashes and red lipstick overshadowed it. She looks better this way.

“Ready?” I gesture toward the front door.

Her brown eyes widen a fraction. Did she think this was all a game? A bluff?

She casually glances down the hall to where her father is still inside his office. Disappointment crosses her features, but it’s only a flicker. Quickly hidden behind a blank expression.

Oh, sweetheart, you can’t hide from me that easily.

She raises her chin and marches out of the house. It’s the walk of the condemned.

Accurate for the moment.