Total pages in book: 37
Estimated words: 34532 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 173(@200wpm)___ 138(@250wpm)___ 115(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 34532 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 173(@200wpm)___ 138(@250wpm)___ 115(@300wpm)
The Dresden Community, from the little I know, is a strict religious near cult. They have elements of Amish and Baptist, but with their own tight-knit inner circles that believe in keeping the outside world at arm’s length and their communities closed to outsiders.
“And your mother?”
There’s sadness in her eyes, and I hate it. “Mama left a long time ago. She was an outsider. Papa fell in love with her, they got married, lived in Dresden, but in the end, she needed the outside more than us.”
Her forced smile and downcast eyes gut me.
“I’m so sorry.” I reach over and smooth her hair, cupping the back of her head in my hand for a moment. Her pain shows in the way her body tightens, and she bites into her bottom lip.
“It’s okay. I’m happy. I have a good life even if I want things outside that I probably shouldn’t. Like my cooking, my blog, the videos. That would not sit well with Papa or the community. It’s just folly. Soon I’ll have to give it up.”
Over my dead body.
I take a deep breath to calm myself. If I could, I would take her away today. Give her everything she wants. The joy I see in her eyes when she’s Anastasia on the videos is pure and real. I want to see that joy on her face every day from this day forward.
I’ve spent my life growing my empire, but I now realize that means nothing without her. I’ve always tried to stay on the right side of things, I could be richer and more successful if I’d been otherwise, but there’s a moral core in me that I’ve managed to maintain, and it lets me sleep at night.
I’ve never needed religion to teach me right from wrong. And looking at her now, I know I would break every law in the land to protect her. Like I said before, not all laws are just.
Her videos don’t come close to capturing her true beauty. She’s stunning in her natural state. She wears almost no make-up today as Selma, but she’s more ravishing than anything the lens captured.
As we pull up to the hotel, I’ve gathered enough information from her to understand the two sides of her personality. They are distinctive and yet both authentic.
Selma has been a dutiful daughter, abiding by the code of conduct in her community. Anastasia has expressed the inner flower that longs to blossom out of Selma. Her natural charisma, her talent as a chef, her sparkling beauty...they are all parts Selma would never be able to express at home, and that makes my heart ache for her.
There’s a knot in my gut when I ask her another question as the limo pulls into the parking lot at the hotel.
“Why would you have to give it up?”
Her cheeks redden, but her eyes turn dark. She licks her bottom lip, and I trace my fingers down her arm, entwining them with her other hand and squeezing gently, urging her to answer.
“I’m supposed to get married. Soon. I’ll be a community wife. It’s all arranged. I’ve never even met him. Nothing like my blog would be allowed.”
Knives pierce my heart at the word married.
“I see.” Is all I can manage, but as the limo slides to a stop in an empty space I ask one final question. “What feels right to you? Getting married and doing as expected or living the life you see for yourself?”
She hesitates. “It’s not that simple. Papa...” She shakes her head and looks to the darkened window. “I can’t shame my father. It would kill him.”
E I G H T
Selma
I WATCH AS ASH FOLDS his hands as if in prayer, sitting at the mahogany dining table where we’ve just finished the most lavish and delicious meal of my life. He’s watching me with such an intensity I feel it down into my bones.
The suite is three times as large as the house where Papa and I live, and I’ve not even seen what I assume is the bedroom behind one of the doors on the outer walls.
I’m slightly lightheaded from the glass of wine I drank with lunch but in all honesty...it feels wonderful. The weight of my life feels slightly lifted, and I’m doing what I can to live in the moment as Anastasia would do.
We’ve talked like we were old friends for nearly two hours. He’s so smart, but there’s also this paternal, almost possessive undertone to him that has me tingling and giddy in a way I’ve never experienced before.
Not that I’ve experienced much of anything before that even comes close to whatever this is.
“I want to give you your own show.” He finally breaks the silence, and a wave of excitement washes over me at the idea. “I can make that happen, Selma. And a lot more.”