Were they lovers back then? Maybe they stayed in touch throughout the years? Were they sneaking around behind Frank’s back? Jess had no problem fucking the Cuban workers, so cheating with Anatolij would be a plausible explanation if not for three major flaws.
One: Anatolij’s powerful, handsome, rich, and sophisticated. All my mother craves. Why would she stay with Frank if she could have a much better version of him?
Two: Frank was perceptive. There’s no way Jess could keep an affair that spanned over many years a secret. He knew she was cheating on him with the help but turned a blind eye to those escapades because he wasn’t a saint either, but I doubt he’d allow his wife to lead a double life for years.
Three: Jess is pretty, and... that’s about it. I can’t imagine someone as intelligent as Anatolij taking an interest in my less-than-bright mother.
I wanted to call her and demand a few answers, but Dante made me promise not to tell Jess where I’m hiding. Mentioning Anatolij will give her a pretty good idea. She’s daft, but not daft enough not to figure out where I am. Still, my finger hovers over her name in my contacts list occasionally. Dante’s handsome face flashes before my eyes every time to stop me from dialing. I can’t risk my safety to satisfy my curiosity.
On the other hand, I no longer feel safe in Moscow. If Anatolij offered to hide me here only because of his affiliation with my mother, he might not take the task of keeping me out of harm’s way too seriously.
I rub my face with both hands. When will the secrets and lies stop? I want a normal, peaceful life with Dante. Or at least as normal as the life of a mafia boss and his future bride can be. Dante’s the only person who puts me above all else. The one who loves me unconditionally. The one who never lies. I need him. His peace, presence, and determination. He’d chase the problems away with one kiss on my forehead.
A sad, bitter laugh slips out of my mouth. I did nothing to deserve him or make him fall in love with me. I did everything to make him hate me and nothing to get him back.
And now, I sit in the fancy garden outside the imposing castle doing nothingagain.I’m not trying to save my own skin. I’m not even trying to force the truth out of Anatolij. No, I just sit on a bench, shivering with cold, wallowing in self-pity, close to tears.
I hate what I’ve become. A stupid, silly princess missing a shoe, biting into a poisoned apple, and waiting for the prince to kiss me back to life.
What a joke.
There was a time when I had to fend for myself; when I fought for respect and love. A time when I didn’t let anyone walk all over me. A time not so long ago.
Then Dante came along, offering what I never had. He surrounded me with attention, admiration, and affection.
He locked me in that stupid tower.
He stole my shoe.
He broke me.
Took away my ability to fight my own battles.
Am I reallythatgirl? I hate that girl. I can’t be her. No way in heaven.
I jump to my feet, sick and tired of feeling helpless. Dante’s not here to help me force the truth out of Anatolij, so it’s right about damn time I take matters into my own hands. Besides, up until we met, I did damn well on my own. I survived years with Frank and never once needed a chaperone.
Confrontation used to be my driving force.
A swirl of snow breaches the castle when I barge inside. Lew stands by the stairs with another man. Their stops abruptly when I storm past them, taking two steps at a time as I climb the stairs. Determination pumps in my veins, silencing the quiet voice in my head ordering me to stop and reconsider. The voice sounds a lot like Dante.
I shake my head, pushing away thewhat-ifs.The door to my bedroom slams shut behind me, and I pull out two suitcases from under the bed and start throwing all my belongings inside. If this won’t force Anatolij to come out of hiding, nothing will. Dante trusted him with my safety. I’m not about to jeopardize it by leaving Moscow, but I need to get Anatolij’s attention somehow.
This, however childish, is my best shot.
No more than ten minutes later, the sound of a suitcase falling down the stairs rumbles in the empty corridors. It’s too heavy for me to carry. Lew glances around the corner, eyebrows drawn together for a second before meeting his hairline. He jumps to the side, avoiding the second flying piece of luggage, then reemerges when it hits the floor with a thud.
“What doing?” he asks, his English nowhere near intermediate level.
I save my breath, descending the stairs in the accompaniment of my heeled boots, clicking loudly. The answer seems to hit Lew across the face. His expression changes to wide eyes and parted lips as he shoves his hand into his pocket, looking for his phone. All the while, he takes one step back for every one of mine taken forward until his back hits the door. He’s a brute of a man with bulky muscles on top of muscles, but I doubt he’ll manhandle me if I try to squeeze past him.
A few seconds pass before two other guards stop on either side of him, walling the door with their oversized bodies. By the look of them, they must think I’m mentally compromised if I think I’ll leave this place. We’ll see who’s right.
Two more seconds pass, and the rule Anatolij imposed on his men when I arrived goes to hell. Lew yells into the small microphone on his cell in Russian, throwing his hands about.
I step off the last step, haul the luggage onto its wheels and pull them behind me, starting in the opposite direction, toward the living room. French doors there will lead me straight into the garden. If only people would stop materializing in my path, that is. Two of Anatolij’s employees appear before me, stealth like ninjas despite their gorilla-like shape. Another one sneaks up on me from behind to snatch the suitcases out of my hands.
I turn back to the two standing in my way. Both bent at their knees, with their hands outstretched to the sides, ready to catch me if I make a run for it. That’s not my intention. I’m a guest here, not a prisoner. I can leave whenever I want, and I’m sure Anatolij wouldn’t dare disagree.