Maria
A FEW DAYS LATER
The chime goes off, and I watch the elevator doors with anticipation. A blonde in a fancy coral suit steps into the living room.
“Oh, this view.” She rushes toward the window as if she’s about to spread her wings and fly off. “Manhattan is a jewel from these dizzying heights.”
Dizzying? I tilt an eyebrow and stare at our newest inmate. Larissa hurries off the elevator and herds the blonde toward me.
Other than an errant bandage here and there, she betrays no sign that she nearly lost her life in a horrific bombing.
“Maria,” she says, “this is Naomi St. Clair. She owns several boutiques. Perhaps you’ve heard of them?”
They look expectantly at me as if I’d know. Eventually, I shake my head.
“Well, she dresses all the members of our … family.” Larissa draws a tight smile across her features and turns away to lock the elevator.
I can’t help but notice that her hands are shaking slightly.
“Good morning, Maria.” Naomi extends her hand, and we shake. “I’ve heard such wonderful things about you. A pleasure to finally meet.” She hands me her card. “I also offer a personal shopping service, which is why I am here today.
She eyes my borrowed dress and flip-flops and winces as if she will have to earn today’s paycheck. Obviously, no one has told her I’m here against my will. I wonder what they would do if I ran for the elevator like a nut. A giggle slips out, and they both stare at me.
“Yes, I would be excited too.” Naomi smiles. “Marrying Mikhail Ivanov. What good luck you have.”
I take a step back and scowl. But I keep my shitty opinions to myself. I can’t screw this up. I’m leaving here today, and when I can, I’m calling my dad. Maybe I can just ask Naomi to use her phone. Or better yet, find a way to pick up the one Mercy reserved for me.
“Thank you, Naomi. I’m excited to be shopping with you,” I reply, trying to keep my voice bubbly.
“Shall we get started then?” Naomi asks, pulling out a tape measure from her bag. “I like to do measurements before we leave, so I know your true size.” She jots down a number on a card. “You know, there will be quite a few events leading up to the wedding. Have you thought about what you’ll wear for those?”
“Don’t frighten the poor girl just yet.” Larissa takes over. “But yes, she will need a brand-new wardrobe.”
“Of course.” Naomi recovers instantly. “We have a lot of shopping and nowhere near enough sunlight to get it done. What do you say we hit Fifth Avenue and make a day of it?”
“Who’s paying for this?” I ask stupidly.
“Mikhail’s card has no limit,” replies Larissa, laughing. “He expects a bill well into the six digits.”
I blink, stunned by the casual mention of such an astronomical figure. But then again, this is Mikhail’s world, I remind myself. A world where money is no object and extravagance is simply a part of everyday life.
Both women laugh, sharing knowing looks. “After all,” Larissa says, “you can’t wear the staff uniform on your wedding day.”
I say nothing and follow them out of the penthouse.
“All right, Maria,” Naomi says, scanning the racks with a practiced gaze. “Let’s find you some stunning outfits to wear.” She eyes my dress again and sighs.
“Remember, darling,” Larissa chimes in. “Mikhail’s money is no object today. Go wild!”
My heart races at the thought. “Are you sure this is okay?”
“Mikhail has always been generous,” Larissa replies with fondness. “Especially when it comes to those he loves.”
And the ones he hates, what do they get? I tried not to piss him off that night after the explosion, but he scowled at me as if I had set off that bomb. It makes me nervous to think about it. The possibility … No, that’s silly. I can’t start believing these lies.
“I think this dress is perfect for the rehearsal dinner!” Naomi holds up a sleek black number with delicate lace detailing. “The perfect blend of formality and innocence.”
I nod, admiring the dress in the full-length mirror. “Isn’t it too … dark for a rehearsal dinner?”
“Darkness can be beautiful too,” Larissa replies softly, a knowing smile on her lips. “Sometimes, it’s even necessary.”
My startled gaze locks on hers. I wonder if there is a deeper meaning behind her words. I slip into the dress. As I step out of the dressing room, I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror, and for a moment, I hardly recognize the woman staring back at me.
“Wow,” Larissa’s eyes widen with admiration. “You look absolutely stunning.”
“Agreed,” Naomi says, nodding approvingly. “Now, let’s find a few more pieces to complete your wardrobe.” She quickly discerns which outfits suit each event’s dress code and venue. She’s like a fashion fairy godmother, magically transforming me into a woman Mikhail would want to marry.
Should I care? I shouldn’t, but I do. Rejection is a tricky thing. No one wants to receive it under any circumstances.
I wander away to take a break … and look for a phone. They don’t really need me; half the clothes in the dressing room are for Larissa. Aimlessly, I am wandering through rows of dresses when I stumble into an alcove. The wedding gown on the mannequin fixes me to the spot. I’ve never thought about my wedding day. Why would I when I barely had permission to leave the house? But this one catches my attention. Folds of ivory silk are sewn into a skirt that fans out from a corset of intricate lace, and the details of the stitching draw me in. I reach out to touch the delicate trim on the sleeve.
If I had dreamt of a gown, it would be this one.
“Lovely.” Naomi grips my shoulders and gives me a hug. “A beautiful dress for a beautiful girl. Oh, the magic of love.”
I look down at the carpet, wondering if my face is redder than my hair. “It’s nice,” I mumble.
“Go ahead.” Larissa hurries in to join us. “Try it on.”
“No, I’d rather not.”
Naomi’s hands clamp down on me. “Don’t be foolish. He’ll want to see you in that dress.”
I shake her off me. “I can’t try on anything else!” I don’t mean to shout, and they stare at me as if I’ve gone completely mad. Finally, a salesperson appears to investigate the commotion. Shaking, I slump down on a chair. “I’m tired and hungry. That’s all.”
Larissa checks her phone. “It’s almost three. We should stop for a break.”
Naomi deals with the salesperson, shoving clothes into her arms. “Go earn a juicy fat commission and ring those up. We’ll be back for them in an hour. Now, anywhere in particular that you want to eat?”
Suddenly alert, I sit on the edge of the chair. Now’s my chance …
“Actually,” I try to keep my voice from trembling, “I know a place. The Somewhere Bar in Times Square.”
“Times Square?” Naomi looks nonplussed but shrugs her shoulders. “Well, it is your day.”