Page 3 of Sold to the Enemy

“I was wondering if you would like to have breakfast with me today?”

Selma lifted her head and looked at him. Would it be so hard to enjoy breakfast with company? Drago hadn’t hurt her. He’d given her choices along the way, apart from the whole marriage thing. She didn’t have a choice there. Okay, so he’d not given her the best choices, but she wasn’t living in hell.

She opened her mouth, closed it, and then nodded her head. “Yes, I’d like that.”

A year ago, she had met this man. It was a vague memory, but he had been standing in their group and he’d approached her, asking very rudely why she was with such a boring old man. She’d found it charming, but now she knew what he’d been trying to do—find out information on her father.

Selma had thought about him many times over the past year. Sharp blue eyes, thick black hair with just a few whisps of grey, muscular, and even a hint of tattoos around his wrists. She didn’t know who he was, nor had she asked her dad. This had been her mistake.

“Yes, I’d like that very much.”

****

Drago watched as Selma moved closer to him. This was progress, but after a month, her finally agreeing to have breakfast with him was very slow indeed.

When he had decided he wanted Selma, he had never planned to marry her. His original plan had simply been to enjoy her. Women didn’t hold their appeal to him for very long, but in the last year of learning about Selma, Drago knew she wasn’t like any other woman.

He wanted something more than a quick fuck with her, something bigger, something deeper. Marrying her was his only solution. In doing so, he had also made sure George wouldn’t interfere. George had nothing, while he had everything.

Now, all he had to do was win Selma. She’d been hesitant. He knew she didn’t want to marry him and had only done so for her father.

With his hand at her back, he walked beside her as they made their way toward the stairs. Breakfast was already waiting for them. His maids had informed him that she enjoyed fruit, toast, or porridge in the morning. So, that’s what he had gotten his kitchen staff to prepare.

Stepping into the dining room, he moved toward the chair beside his and held it out. Selma offered him a smile, but he saw that she was also a little shaken up. He didn’t want to make her nervous, so he held out the chair for her and waited. The scent of vanilla surrounded him and he knew it came from her. She made his mouth water, but he kept himself under control, and instead moved toward his chair and took a seat.

“Enjoy,” he said.

Selma once again smiled at him and reached for the fruit from the platter. She held her plate and started to fill it. As she did, he poured himself a coffee and then offered her some, to which she nodded her agreement.

He checked to make sure she’d put plenty of fruit on her plate, and then reached to serve himself. Drago was not a healthy eater. He preferred some bacon in the morning, along with scrambled eggs and toast, but he’d work with the fruit for now. With his plate full, and a little worried he’d still be hungry, he sat down and pierced a piece of banana. Popping it in his mouth, he chewed and had to admit it wasn’t so bad. It wasn’t good, certainly wasn’t bacon, but it was edible. He sipped at his coffee and as he did so, he watched Selma. She took her time, chewing and eating.

“Don’t be nervous,” he said.

Selma turned her attention to him. “You’re asking me not to be nervous?”

“There is no reason to be.”

She coughed, covered her mouth, and immediately took a sip of her coffee.

“I’m sorry, how can I not be?”

This did make him smile. At least she was now talking to him, which was a start.

“I’ve not given you any reason to be nervous, have I?”

She opened her mouth, closed it, and then shook her head.

“Trust me, there’s a lot I could have done to you, but I didn’t. You’re my wife, Selma, you don’t need to be nervous, I won’t hurt you.”

“No, you just put me in a room and leave me there.”

“Your father told me you’re aware of what he does, of who he is. You know who I am, and you know I have many enemies. As my wife, that puts you on the list of people for our enemies to hurt. I didn’t want you running away and falling into the wrong hands.”

“Oh,” Selma said. “I didn’t … think of that.”

“Your father can ship you off, but there are spies everywhere. Someone will know that I am married. They will know who you are. I will keep you safe, Selma.”

“So, running away is not an option?”