Maria
My father stands beside a young Mikhail, and another man is beside him. From the looks of the photograph, they’re out in the country somewhere. But unlike the familiar dour face I grew up with, my father is smiling here, practically laughing. His arm is slung around the other man like they’re old friends.
“What the fuck?” I whisper. “Is this a sick joke?”
It has to be a joke. A fake created with AI. It has to be! I turn it over, and the only word written on it is Poconos. What does that even mean? My father doesn’t go to the Poconos. He doesn’t camp. He despises sleeping outdoors. When I asked to go camping in the sixth grade, he set up a tent in the living room instead of letting me sleep outside in the backyard.
And just who else is in the picture with him? Could it be Mikhail’s dad? But how? How does my father know them? There has to be a logical explanation. I look at the photo one last time, ignore my pounding heart, and shove it away with the rest.
The simplest explanation floats to the front of my mind, and I reject it as soon as it comes.
My dad is not a criminal. He’s not one of them!
A part of me wants to confront Mikhail with the photo in my hand and demand an answer. But this is proof that what he’s told me all along is the truth. My father is a traitor to the Bratva. But another part of me-the part that’s equal parts coward and survivor-urges me to put it away and find a phone fast.
Before I run out of time.
But what if Dad already knows that something is wrong? I have to face the fact that something should’ve happened by now. Mercy knows I’m in trouble. And she says that Dad knows. But if that’s the case, then where the fuck is he?
I swallow down a hard lump in my throat and take deep breaths. With trembling hands, I continue to search for a phone, knowing I won’t find one. But I try anyway. I’m too troubled by the image of my dad standing like a guardian above the man who stole my heart and is threatening our lives.
But by the time I search through the office, I know that my efforts are useless.
I decide to leave the office before I’m caught snooping. How long have I been in here? And why is no one around? Someone is always around. I freeze in my tracks and look up at the ceiling at the four corners for cameras I may have missed.
I don’t see any.
But that doesn’t mean anything. The guards could be watching from another room, laughing at me for being the biggest idiot on the earth.
“Keep it together,” I mutter under my breath.
I take one last look around, wondering if I missed anything. I stare at the sketch and wish I could take it with me, and then slip out of the office. Relief washes over me, cooling my warm skin the moment the door clicks shut behind me. I lean my forehead against it and take another deep breath, grateful that no one is around.
“Oh, there you are, koshka.” Dominika’s calm voice causes me to jump like a scared cat with a yanked tail. She’s in her white uniform, which is starched and crisp around her slim body. Her pale blonde hair is neatly pulled back in a bun, revealing her graceful neckline. Her cool eyes are framed by well-defined eyebrows, and her lips are pressed in a smug smirk.
I can’t lie. My guilty expression is screaming out the truth.
“Please,” I beg, grabbing her arm. “Don’t tell him. I only wanted to find a phone. I didn’t find anything.”
Dominika stares at me, and slowly, the smirk disappears off her face. “Tell him what, koshka?” she asks. “I saw no one doing nothing.” She studies me for a moment longer before shrugging nonchalantly. “Have you eaten today?”
“No,” I whisper. “I don’t have an appetite.”
Dominika looks down at my flip-flops and grimaces. I wonder if they slapped against my heels as I searched the room. She takes my hand off her forearm and firmly grips it, pulling me away from the door.
“You are his fiancee,” she says under her breath. “You must act confidently with the staff, myself included. No matter what happens in private, you are not allowed to display fear in public. These people will take advantage of it. Do you understand?”
“You act like you want to help me …” I shake my head. “But why?”
“I’ve been in the employ of this family for most of my life, koshka.” Her cool gaze holds me motionless. “And I have no wish to see history repeat itself. Now, I suggest you go upstairs, wash up, and put on a dress. Start acting like you belong here. Not like you’re being kept here.” Dominika takes her thumb and wipes away a tear on my face. “Ponimayetye?”
This time, I nod, and head upstairs to do as I’m told when she lets me go.
In the shower, the warm water feels good against my sweaty skin, and I recall the night in the pool.
I thought Mikhail and I had grown closer that night. I saw a glimpse of who he really is. I didn’t think of him as a criminal in that moment but an artist torn and separated from his true purpose.
But clearly, I was wrong. His kindness is transactional, and it won’t keep me unharmed. I’d have to be delusional not to recognize that now.
I stroke my hair, rinsing the bubbles down my back as the water cools, and dry off with a heated towel. Dominika is right. I do feel better as I enter the closet, surrounded by dresses picked out by Larissa and that ridiculous woman, Naomi. She was wasted after two drinks, but she handled herself with more confidence than I ever did. I pull out a peacock-colored dress and frown at it. It’s beautiful, a long, lean column of green with a high collar, but too fussy for me.
I should’ve worn this dress to the wedding shower instead. Oh well, better now than never.
I stare at my reflection, appraising myself and wondering if I look more like that woman in the sketch. How will Mikhail treat me when he sees me in this? I scowl, knowing it won’t be any better. Carefully, I walk down the spiraling, floating treads in a pair of kitten heels and see Dominika laying out a spread of cut fresh fruit and hot tea on the coffee table.
She looks up at me and arches an eyebrow. “Don’t look at your feet,” she says. “It won’t help you walk any better.”
I lift my chin high and sit on the edge of the couch in front of a cup of steaming green tea she’s poured for me.
“Better.” Dominika nods and then disappears down the hallway while I wait for Mikhail to return alone.