her thumb over the words tattooed on her wrist. Once upon a time...
A tribute to her Slovakian mother, a woman who’d had the courage to marry an American dog trainer despite their different backgrounds and skin colors, even despite their language barrier. Edita Joelle had fancied fairy tales, and every night, after she’d read one to Katarina, she’d sighed dreamily.
Beauty can be found in ugliness. Never forget.
Katarina hadn’t really liked the stories. A princess in distress rescued by a prince? No! Sometimes you needed to wait for a miracle, but sometimes you needed to be the miracle.
Right now, she could find no beauty in Alek. Could see no miracle in the works.
Did it really matter? She was the author of her own story—she decided the twists and turns—and often what seemed to be the end was actually a new beginning. Every new beginning had the potential to be her happily-ever-after.
No question, today marked the start of a new beginning. A new story. Perhaps, like the fairy tales of old, it would end in blood and death, but it would end.
I can endure anything for a short time.
Strong fingers curved around her jaw and lifted her head. Her gaze locked on Alek, who looked at her with a shudder-inducing mix of lust and anger.
“Say your vows, princezná.”
She despised the nickname. She wasn’t pampered or helpless. She worked hard, and she worked often. Many of her patrons had called her a stay-at-home dog mom. A compliment. Mothers worked harder than anyone.
And I love my babies. Dogs were better company than most people, period. Better than Alek, definitely.
“You make me wait at your own peril,” he said.
Quiet words, clear promise.
She wrenched free of his hold. He was a plague upon mankind, and she would never pretend otherwise. Especially when she should be wedding Peter, her childhood sweetheart.
Peter, who had always joked, always laughed.
Sorrow spurred her on. “With you, everything is at my peril.”
This man had already ruined her. Dominik had spent her money on drugs, draining her accounts, before selling the kennel to Alek, who’d burned it down.
His eyelids narrowed to tiny slits. He might like the look of her, but he’d never appreciated her honesty.
Fun fact: provoking him had become her only source of joy.
“I’m not sure you understand the great honor I bestow upon you, Katarina. Other women would kill to be in your position.”
Maybe. Probably. With his pale hair, dark eyes and chiseled features, he looked like an angel. But those other women failed to see the monster lurking within...until too late.
Katarina had seen it from the beginning, and her lack of interest had challenged him. There was no other reason a five-foot-eleven man—who’d only ever dated short women in an effort to appear taller—would take a fancy to someone his same height.
Though she’d always been a jeans-and-tennis-shoes kind of girl, she had a feeling she would soon develop a love of stilettos.
“Honor?” she finally replied. His last three girlfriends had died in suspicious ways. Drowning, car wreck and drug overdose. “That’s the word you think applies?”
“Great honor.”
Alek liked to tell his business associates Katarina was his mail-order bride. And in a way, she was. A year ago, he’d wanted to buy home protection dogs from a fellow Slovak. He’d come across the Pes Denˇ website and discovered she was known for training the best of the best. Rather than filling out an application, as required, he’d flown out to meet her.
After only one conversation, she’d suspected he would abuse her animals. So she’d refused him.
Soon afterward, Peter died in a filthy alleyway, the victim of a seemingly random mugging.
And soon after that, her brother was invited to join Alek’s import/export business—importing drugs and prostitútky to the States, exporting millions in cash to be hidden or laundered. Not surprisingly, Dominik quickly developed an addiction to Alek’s heroin.
Just another way to manipulate me.
When Alek summoned her to his estate in New York—Dominik owes me thousands. You will come and pay his debt—she’d once again refused him. Later in the week, Midnight, a cherished mountain dog, was poisoned. She’d known Dominik—and thereby Alek—was to blame. The once-abused canine wouldn’t have taken a treat from anyone else.
She’d quickly found homes for the other dogs. But her fool of a brother had known the few people she trusted, and had given Alek their locations in exchange for a reduced debt. Always one step ahead.
“I’m here for one reason and one reason only,” she said, hating him, hating this, “and it has nothing to do with honor.”
Mr. Baker backed out of striking distance.
Alek grabbed her by the neck, squeezing hard enough to restrict her airway. “Be very careful how you proceed, princezná. This can be a good day for you, or a very bad one.”
“Your vows,” Mr. Baker rushed out. “Say them.”
Alek gave her one last squeeze before releasing her.
Breathing in...out...she skipped her wild gaze around the chapel. Armed guards were posted throughout. The pews were filled with Alek’s business associates, more armed guards and various other employees. The men wore suits, and their dates were draped in formal gowns and expensive jewels.
If she refused, she would be killed—but only if she were lucky. Most assuredly her babies would be killed.
To the back of the building, beautiful stained-glass windows framed an intricately carved altar. Beside each of those windows was a marble pillar veined with glittering rose, and between those pillars hung a painting of the tree of life. The frieze leading up to the domed ceiling depicted angels at war with demons and complemented the swirling design of gold filigree on the ivory floor tiles.
The room offered a fresh start, not damnation, and yet she felt damned to the depths of her soul.
Save the dogs. Save Dominik.
Scratch Dominik. Just the dogs. Then escape.
At last, she repeated the vows. Alek beamed with happiness. And why wouldn’t he? She had, like so many others, allowed evil to win the battle.
But the war still rages...
“You may kiss your bride,” Mr. Baker announced, his relief palpable.
Alek took her by the shoulders and yanked her against him. His lips pressed against hers, and his tongue forced its way past her teeth.
Her husband tasted like ashes.
There
