88

Allison
Gregory disappears after dropping me back at the house with only a cryptic I have more work as an explanation before driving off. I mutter to myself as I head back into the beautiful but empty house, and I’m about to give myself another tour when I find a young man standing in the kitchen, idly humming to himself and wiping down the refrigerator.
I let out a little surprised yelp. He grimaces and looks over, holding up the sponge like a shield.
“Sorry,” he says quickly. “I didn’t mean to startle you. I wasn’t aware you’d be back so soon. Gregory told me-”
“Wait, hold on. Who are you?” I put a hand on my rapidly beating hard. “I wasn’t expecting anyone to be in here.”
The young man straightens. He’s got dirty-blond hair, tan skin, surprisingly white teeth, and a slender frame, and he’s wearing a business-casual outfit of a button-down tucked into slim khaki pants. He reminds me of a fashionable tech-bro. “My name’s Orin and I’m Gregory’s assistant.”
It takes a second to process. “Gregory has an assistant? How old are you?”
“Twenty-nine,” he says with a strange bit of defensiveness. “How old are you?”
“Huh. You’re older than I am. Sorry, you just look so young, and I just-” I shake my head. “I’m being rude.”
“If rudeness bothered me, I wouldn’t be working for Gregory.”
I laugh lightly. “Good point.”
“He instructed me to meet you here. I understand you have some lists of items you might need?” He glances around the sparse kitchen. “I have a few shopping ideas if you wouldn’t mind a little initiative.”
“I’d love that. I’m not picky when it comes to plates and stuff.”
“Perfect, then I’ll take care of the kitchen. Anything else?”
I pull up my phone and start reading to him what I’ll need, but I end up texting him a document instead. “And it would be nice if I could get some furniture for this place. It’s a little bit…” I trail off, waving my hands in the air.
“Empty?” he supplies.
“Depressing as hell.”
He grins. “I can help with that as well. Got a style in mind?”
Suddenly, an idea hits me. It’s a little bit childish, but I can’t help myself. “Gregory told you to get me anything I want, correct? No matter what?”
“That’s right. Price is no object. Go nuts.”
“Perfect.” I start flipping through pictures on my phone. “Exactly how quickly can we get some of this stuff? I have a theme in mind.”
“A theme?” His eyebrows raise.
“Gregory loves a theme.” I grin wickedly, unable to help myself. “Shall we get to work?”
He claps once, looking delighted. “I’m going to like you.”
Five hours later, Gregory comes home to a completely transformed house.
I’m sitting in the living room sipping a mocktail and watching the fireplace crackle away. Fortunately, I’m fast enough to hop to my feet as he comes into the room, and I’m treated the expression on his face as he takes in the new decor.
“What is this?” he asks, staring.
“You told me to make this place my home. What do you think?”
His frown deepens. “It looks like…” He trails off, shaking his head slowly.
“The inside of a Romanov toilet? Yeah, that was my intention.”
I give him a little curtsey and look around the space.
It’s gold. Like, obscenely gold. Everything is a shade of gold, cream, or white, from the carpet to the walls. Gold couch, gold end table, gold light fixtures. Some of them are real gold, some is only painted, but everything sparkles.
The place is absurd. It’s an astonishingly tacky display of wealth, the sort of excess old-money guys like Gregory love to frown at. I was going for something that would make a Russian tsar blush, and based on the look on Gregory’s face, I succeeded.
“This has to change.”
“Absolutely not.” I pick up a golden elephant statue. “I love my decorations.”
“You did this to annoy me.”
“You said to make it feel like home. Well, instead, I wanted it to feel like I’m living inside of a palace.”
“I can’t have people enter this place. It’s just…” His nose wrinkles. “Unseemly.”
“I think anyone you bring over will be impressed by our wonderful taste.”
“You have to change it.” He picks up a fake Faberge egg, entirely gold. “And this should be smashed into a million little pieces. This travesty is a crime against good taste and the Russian people.”
“That is a lovely piece of art-” I walk over and pluck it from his hands. “And it cost us ten thousand dollars.”
He grunts like I punched him in the chest. “You’re lying.”
“I most certainly am not. Everything cost ten times the usual amount when you factor in rush delivery and the labor it took to get this set up in the time you were out.”
“Why?” he asks. He levels that intense gaze and I feel my spine shiver. But no, I’m not going to give up now, just because my scary husband’s giving me his murder-stare.
“I want you to come home every day to a reminder that I am not some passive observer in this relationship.” I tilt my chin up, meeting him glare for glare.
Yes, it’s childish. I am very much aware. But I was also reminded during our meeting with my father how little control I have over this situation.
Gregory’s doing all the work. Sure, I’m giving him information, making a few contacts, but otherwise it’s all him.
I’m here to piss everyone off and nothing more.
This is my tiny way of taking control of my life.
We stay like that for several beats. I understand that I’m playing with fire. I know he’s a cobra ready to strike and I’m poking him with a stick. But I can’t help myself. This is the kind of person I am-not willing to roll over, not willing to play dead. I climb trees, I get muddy, I learn about the art of war, get bruises, muddy knees, ripped jeans.
I take my life into my own hands.
So far, Gregory’s done nothing but whisk me around.
Now I’ve gotten a bit of revenge.
“Is the whole house like this?” he asks.
“Yes. Well, mostly. Some of the rooms are still empty.”
“Hm.” He looks around. “I can live with it.”
“You can-hold on, what now?” My eyebrows raise. “I thought you’d fight more. I had this whole speech prepared.”
“It’s fine. I’ll survive.” He turns to leave.
“No, wait, listen to the speech. When, in the course of human events, it becomes necessary for one people to dissolve the political bands which have connected them with another, and to assume-”
“That’s the Declaration of Independence,” Gregory interrupts.
“Come on, it’s just getting good. -and to assume, among the power of the earth-”
“If you keep quoting the Declaration of Independence at me, I swear to god, Allison, I am going to spank you. This absurd little temper tantrum of a decorative wreck is bad enough, but if you keep going-”
“-the separate and equal station to which the laws of nature and nature’s God entitle them, a decent respect-” He comes at me with a snarl and I yelp, laughing as I run away. My heart’s racing, my head a little dizzy, but Gregory doesn’t stop. “I can do more!” I shout, dodging around his lunge, heading for the steps. “-to the options of mankind requires that they should declare-”
“I am going to spank you raw, little princess,” he snarls, and I genuinely can’t tell if he’s mad for real.