It’s obvious both of them are drunk and likely high, their eyes glassy. They haven’t even been to bed, I bet. Andros releases Camila and keeps his gun trained on me as Aren tells Camila to go home.
“You’re fired,” he says. “Pack your bags. You should have known better than to sneak around behind my back.” He takes out a pack of cigarettes and lights one right there in the kitchen. “You have fifteen minutes before I’ll get you a personal escort. Go.”
“Aren, you can’t! Don’t fire her!” My heart breaks at the sight of tears falling down Camila’s cheeks. I go to follow her, but Aren grabs me by the arm and yanks me to him.
“And you will come with me,” he says tightly. “Sneaking around my back, Caroline? Did you not think I’d find out?” He throws his cigarette down and stomps it out on the kitchen floor, leaving an angry black mark on the white tile.
I don’t say anything. I steel myself for whatever he plans on doing, resigned to the worst, but he doesn’t strike me this time or worse, leave me to Andros. Instead, he drags me out of the kitchen and toward his study. Dread gallops across my chest as we walk down the hall to his office, where he conducts most of his most vicious business. His office opens directly to the back of the house via a door in the back. I’ve seen boxes delivered through that door, men brought in for “private meetings,” and even bodies dragged out to be disposed of.
Terrible, wicked things happen behind these doors.
“I just wanted to learn how to cook,” I tell him.
“This isn’t about that,” he snaps, surprising me. Andros opens the door and he shoves me in before they shut and lock the door behind me. Aren takes my wrists and holds them to my sides.
“You’ll listen to me, little sister, and listen well,” he says. He’s so close to me I can see the red rims of his eyes and smell the whiskey on his breath. It pains me to see him like this. He looks so much like my mother with her soft brown hair and dark brown eyes. It would have killed her to see what my brother has become.
“Aren,” I plead. “You’re hurting me. Please, let me go.”
“Shut up,” he snaps.
I freeze. Something is wrong. Though he treats me badly, there’s a desperation in him I rarely see. A wild look in his eyes that makes fear shiver down my spine.
He shoves me toward Andros. He knows the wicked things Andros has done to me, though he denies it and has punished me for lying. He knows how I freeze in Andros’ presence and can’t bring myself to speak or move. Andros takes my wrists in his firm grasp and holds me in front of my brother. Aren holds my gaze with unsteady eyes.
“I’ve made an arrangement,” he says furiously, as if I forced his hand in this. “A win-win situation, one might say.”
I don’t respond, held tightly in Andros’ grasp but I’m surprised to see Andros freezes. Waiting. He doesn’t know, then?
“This afternoon, you’ll be taken to Atlanta, to a neutral brotherhood. The pakhan there will officiate at the ceremony.”
Andros is a statue. I’m not sure he’s even breathing, but I quickly forget about him because I’m trying to wrap my brain around what Aren has just said.
Wait. What?
Officiate what? I shake my head, confused.
“Your future husband will collect you there and take you back with him to Boston. I’m telling you this, so you know, not because you have a say. I want this done swiftly, before your future husband knows what you really look like.”
I blink, unable to stop helpless tears forming in my eyes. I can’t stop him. I can’t control this.
“You arranged… my marriage?” I ask stupidly.
“You did what?” Andros asks, his voice taut with anger. “Are you fucking joking?” His protest doesn’t come out of concern for me, though. Of course he doesn’t want me away from here. Who else would he torment? And getting away from him is the only silver lining in what Aren is telling me.
“Yes,” Aren says, turning away from me with a look of disgust. “I don’t want you here anymore anyway. You’re a burden to me, and no one will ever have you. The key is to make sure he’s committed to you before he actually sees you.”
Anger boils up inside me so hard and fast I have to breathe through my nose, so I don’t snap at him and draw out his wrath. Tears blur my vision.
“Aren,” I whisper. “Why would you?”
But he won’t meet my eyes. He won’t talk to me.
“Give her to me,” he says, and it seems he surprises Andros. Perhaps Aren doesn’t think I lied about his friend after all, about what he did to me, and he doesn’t trust him. I stumble toward him and he grabs my arms.