CHAPTER 3
Naomi
One Day Earlier
I schooled my emotions from those in the car as it wound up the steep driveway high above the city. I knew that they expected a scared Russian girl who had no idea what was going on, and it was hard to maintain that persona.
Okay, maybe not that hard.
I was scared, terrified at what might happen in the event that the man who took me found out that I wasn’t who he thought I was.
He didn’t look like the type that would laugh at a joke or even crack a true smile. And whatever evil thing he had planned for Sveta? He was definitely expecting it to go his way.
I looked out of the window, down at the twinkling lights below us. I had briefly thought about putting up a fight with the guard that had come to get me, noting that it wasn’t the one who had taken me to his boss earlier.
He had gotten a face full of raked nails, trying to get me to go back to that prison of a room. He had glared at me immediately after, and for a moment I thought he was about to do something terrible.
Instead, the guard had pushed me into the car and climbed in, either afraid that I would shout out or bound by some instructions to make sure I was not to be harmed.
Either way, I wasn’t getting out of this, not by myself.
The car pulled up to a large mansion that dwarfed all the houses I had visited in my lifetime, and the door was opened for me.
“Come,” the guard said in gruff Russian, motioning for me to get out of the car.
I climbed out into the balmy night, staring up at the mansion with some trepidation. This was probably my new prison—rather, Sveta’s new prison with her soon-to-be new husband.
It was all just crazy to think about what was going on and what the poor girl would have had to deal with if she was still alive. I wanted to say that I was made of stronger stuff than her, having lived through some shit in my life.
But Sveta? She was just a child! No more than seventeen when she was ripped from everything she knew. If she were in my place, she’d be terrified out of her mind.
Maybe it was good that she had died so that she wouldn’t have to live with a monster who clearly had only one thing on his mind for her.
“Sveta Stanislavovna.”
The formal patronymic greeting almost caught me off guard. I turned, remembering that was supposed to be my formal name, and saw a man standing on the steps to the mansion. He was dressed in a severe gray suit, his hair neatly combed back off his forehead. “Good evening. I’m Ivan Popov,” he announced, nodding in my direction. “I’m Mr. Kirilenko’s personal driver. Welcome to the mansion.”
I lifted my chin but kept my mouth shut, knowing that I needed to be careful with how and to whom I responded.
Ivan didn’t seem surprised at my lack of response, gesturing toward the door. “Please, if you will follow me,” he answered in beautiful Russian that I could only wish came out of my mouth.
I glanced back at the car, thinking about running back in. But the guards would only drag me back out. But at the same time, I knew that once I walked into that mansion, it would be all over.
My life, my identity, everything.
It would be easier right now for me to walk off the nearest cliff.
Instead, I walked up the stairs and through the door, the smells of lavender and roses filling my senses.
A wiry older woman was standing in the foyer, her pepper-colored hair pulled back into a severe bun at the nape of her neck. She was wearing a black dress with no adornment, reminding me somewhat of a nun without her scarf.
“Good evening, Sveta Stanislavovna,” she said, her voice grating, and her mouth pursed as if she had tasted something sour. “Welcome to your home. I am Vera Pushkin, the maid and caretaker of this property. I hope you will find it to your liking.”
Her voice was hollow, letting me know that she didn’t approve of me being here and could not care less if I liked the place or not. I wondered just how much they had been privy to the plan. “I want to go home,” I said softly, my voice breaking.
No emotion flickered over her face. “You are home now, devushka.” Girl.
That was what I was reduced to.
“Come,” Vera said. “I will show you your room.”
Vera turned and started up the beautiful staircase that led to the second landing, the wrought-iron railing scrolled with flowers and vines. A large chandelier hung suspended from the vaulted ceiling above my head and the floor was white marble, spotless enough that I could see my reflection in it.
Still, there was something sterile about the mansion, something that made me wonder if the walls had ever heard laughter or happiness.
Swallowing, I started up the stairs, my hand shaking as it gripped the railing.
Run, my conscience screamed at me, trying to get me to turn around.
But I didn’t. I couldn’t.
Soon, I found myself on the second landing, looking down at Ivan, who was watching my every step. Did he see something that would make me worry that I was faking everything? I knew I was surrounded by people that were going to do nothing but judge me, even hate me because of who my supposed father was. They were going to do everything that they could to follow Kirilenko’s plans, no matter at what cost.
I had no friends in this place.
The second landing’s floor was carpeted, so plush that my beat-up Converse shoes sank into it with each step I took. This was opulence beyond measure, a statement to something. Most people did it because they were compensating for something they couldn’t have or didn’t have.
I doubted that Kirilenko was that sort of man. He didn’t look like someone who was missing anything in his life.
I was marched down a long hall to the end, where a door stood open with light spilling out from inside.
Vera pushed open the door wider. “This is your room.”
I stepped inside, and the sight took my breath away. A massive four-post bed dominated the center of the room, covered in an ice-blue comforter that made it look like it was a cloud. There was a sitting area off to the right, near the open balcony doors, and another door to the left, which likely was an in-suite bathroom or a walk-in closet.
The room was painted white, the carpet white, and the furniture a heavy dark oak. It was a mix of elegance and masculinity.
“This is your washroom,” Vera continued, crossing over the room to the door to the left and throwing it open. “Everything, you will see, has been stocked in anticipation of your arrival. The wardrobe is full of clothing that is your size, and the dresser is where you will find your underthings and lingerie.”
I was vaguely listening to her, noting that the dresser was covered with makeup and other feminine things that every woman would find in their own room.
Holy shit…How long had Kirilenko been planning this?
“This.” Vera pointed to a button on the wall near the bed. “Is to summon me. I have staff around the clock to see to your needs. Your meals will be delivered unless the master wants you to dine with him. I will give you the schedule of meals tomorrow.”
Master?
My head was reeling from what was happening. I thought the mansion was going to be my prison. No, it would appear that I wasn’t even going to get that. This bedroom was going to be everything in my life.
“Get some rest,” Vera said as she walked to the door. “He will be home soon.”
I waited until she closed the door before crossing the room and trying the handle.
It was exactly what I figured was going to happen.
I was locked in from the outside.