I stop in front of the bed and collapse down onto it, face-first. The mattress is so soft I feel like I’m being consumed by a cloud. But whatever relief it gives me is short-lived.
The door opens and Yulia walks in with two maids pushing a trolley between them. It’s filled with packages neatly wrapped in brown butcher paper that gives no indication of what’s inside.
“What’s this?” I ask, rising up onto my elbows.
“Looks like you’ve had a productive day.” Yulia glances around at the strewn pillowcases and the messy bed.
“If you’re waiting for me to turn into a gracious prisoner, you can just keep right on waiting,” I snap. “I wouldn’t hold my breath if I were you.”
Yulia smiles before turning to the maids. “Wheel that into the walk-in and then leave us.”
“Clothes?” I ask. “He sent me clothes?”
“No, this is the kind of chore my son saves for me. I purchased the clothes for you.”
“Good. If they were his choice, I’d tell him to cram a stiletto up his ass.”
Yulia chuckles. “I take it the meeting didn’t go so well.”
“Understatement of the year.” I shake my head. “No offense, but your son is an asshole.”
The maids throw me anxious glances as they scurry out of the bedroom. The last one out snaps the door closed behind her, leaving Yulia and me alone.
“He is a Bratva don,” she says.
“I don’t think those things are mutually exclusive.”
“It means there is always a reason for his actions. You’ll get used to him.”
I look at her with alarm. “I don’t want to get used to him. I want to get out of here.”
“He’s not going to hurt you if you don’t give him a reason to.”
“Is that supposed to be comforting?”
“No, dear,” she says quietly. “It has never been my job to comfort.”
She sobers and stands still for a long moment while some memory or another works itself out of the recesses of her mind. It’s almost humanizing, in a strange way, to watch her suffer at the hands of the past like I do all the time.
Then she straightens up. The vulnerability disappears and fixes me with the same imperious gaze she’s worn from the start.
“Anyway, you must have done something right this morning,” she says. “Because you have an invitation to dinner.”
“Dinner?”
“I believe you’ll find it’s the meal after lunch,” she chides sarcastically.
“I know what dinner is,” I snap back. “Is this dinner with him?”
“Of course,” Yulia says with a tolerant smile. “Who else?”
“But why?”
“That is a question you’ll have to ask him,” she says. “I’m just here to deliver some clothes.”
I glance towards the newly laden racks in the closet. I don’t want to look too interested, but I literally cannot remember the last time I bought new clothes for myself and the thought alone has me giddy.
Focus, Liv.
“Do you really think you can make me excited for this dinner just by bringing me new clothes? Are you his spin doctor or something?”
“I’m not trying to spin anything. I just…” Her smile falls slightly. For a millisecond, I can peek once again behind the perfectly crafted façade. “I do feel bad that you’re forced to be here. And I… I don’t want you to think you don’t have a friend in this house.”
I raise my eyebrows. “Is that what you are to me? My friend?”
“I can be a shoulder to lean on. Someone to confide in. Whatever you need.”
“Does Aleks know you’re making this offer?”
She sighs. “No. He wouldn’t approve.”
“I didn’t think so.”
“So maybe we should… keep it just between us?” she asks hopefully.
Yulia is the only one in this entire house who’s shown me the slightest bit of kindness. I’d be a fool to alienate the one person who might have a conscience in this place.
So I force a smile to my face. “Of course.”
“Thank you,” she says, relief flooding her features. “Now, how about you come take a look at the clothes I picked out for you?”
Despite our tentative truce, I feel a twinge of discomfort as I follow her into the walk-in closet.
She hits a hidden switch on the wall and an embedded lighting system comes to life along every shelf and rack. It’s a rainbow of colors and cuts. Dresses—evening, cocktail, casual—along with pants, blouses, skirts, coats. Jeans and tees, camis and leggings. A whole separate annex is devoted entirely to shoes, each pair lit by a soft spotlight from above. I’m amazed by how quickly and neatly the maids were able to arrange everything.
I run my fingers over the fabric. Silk, cashmere, chiffon, brocade. But the more I examine the outfits she’s brought for me, I can’t help noticing that none of them feel like me.
“Well, what do you think?”
I plaster a smile onto my face before I turn to look at her. “Everything here is gorgeous, Yulia. And I don’t want to sound ungrateful. But… well, um… none of them will suit me.”
“You are a size eight, aren’t you?”
“I… yeah, I am—”
“Then what do you mean?”
“I mean, look at me,” I say, gesturing to my body. I’m currently wearing jeans and a hoodie that’s entirely too big for me. “This is my style.”
“Style?” Yulia repeats, looking positively mortified. “That’s not a style at all, Olivia.”
“Jeans and hoodies are too a style.”
“Maybe if you’re a fourteen-year-old boy.”
“Hey!”
“You are a beautiful woman, Olivia. And you have a beautiful figure. So why are you trying so hard to hide it?”
I frown. “Because I have no interest in being objectified.”
“Is that the real reason?”
“Are you my friend or a therapist?” I ask. “I have no interest in being analyzed, either.”
Yulia strokes thoughtfully at her chin. “I don’t know, dear. Changing your style might do you some good.”
“That’s rich,” I scoff. “As if you care about what’s good for me.”
She sighs. “I wish I could do something to help.”
“You can!” I say, lunging toward her desperately. “Forget the clothes, Yulia. Convince your son to let me go.”
She takes both my hands in hers. “Darling, believe me when I tell you this: I have no voice in this Bratva. Not anymore. My son rules with an iron fist. If anyone questions or crosses him, he will come down on them. That includes me.”
“But… but you’re his mother. You brought him into this world.”
“What did I tell you about him when we first met?”
“He is ruthless,” I recite.
If “your son is an asshole” was the understatement of the year, then that is surely the runner-up.
She nods. “He didn’t earn that reputation without cause. I’ll do what I can for you—but I have to work within the system to do so. I can make sure you’re comfortable. I can make sure you’re not hurt. Not hurt badly, at least.”