“Gee, thanks, how comforting,” I drop my hands and sink down to the tufted settee in the middle of the walk-in. “You do know what he’s doing is wrong, don’t you?”
“He’s doing what he thinks is right,” she counters.
“That wasn’t my question.”
She steps over to me and strokes the back of my head tenderly. “I’m an old woman now, Olivia. This is my life, whether I like it or not. I can’t convince Aleksandr to let you go. But I can help you navigate this world for as long as you’re in it. I can give you the advice that I was never given.”
“What’s the advice on this occasion?” I mutter sarcastically. “I’m hoping it’s something like ‘sharpen your toothbrush into a prison shiv and stick it right in his eyeball.’”
She smiles sadly. “Not quite. Put on a pretty dress, go down to dinner, and charm him.”
“Charm him?” I balk. “How the hell do I do that?”
“Have you never tried to impress a man before?”
“Not on purpose.”
“Let’s start with the dress, then.” She gets to her feet and rifles through the rows of dresses. “Ah-ha. Here we go.” She plucks one off the rack, peels aside the plastic wrap, and shows it to me with a flourish. “Isn’t she a beauty?”
“Jesus,” I breathe.
It’s a short, strapless dress, but every inch of it is covered in tiny beads. Blues and greens woven between swirls of silver. It’s magical, shimmering, like a mermaid’s tail.
Then I notice the tag dangling from the hem. “Holy hell! This dress is six thousand dollars.”
“It’s Elie Saab, Olivia,” Yulia says with amusement.
“I… I can’t wear that.”
“Why?”
“It won’t fit.”
“You haven’t tried it on yet.”
“Not the point. I know it won’t fit. I’m… I’m too tall, too clumsy to pull it off.”
“Let me be the judge of that,” she says, her tone turning stern. “Go on. Take off your clothes.”
“Pardon?”
“Dinner is in half an hour,” she explains impatiently. “I don’t think I have to tell you that Aleksandr doesn’t like to be kept waiting.”
Backed into a corner, I find myself standing and stripping. The moment I’m down to my bra and panties, I start skirting around Yulia, hoping she’s not looking too closely. All that does is make her pay closer attention.
“For goodness’s sake, Olivia,” she sighs. “There’s nothing so unattractive as insecurity.”
“I’m not trying to attract him,” I retort.
“Aren’t you, though?” she asks. “You want to charm him. Attraction is an important part of that.”
“I thought we established that I don’t actually want to charm him.”
“If you want to live, then yes, you do.”
My jaw drops open. “You mean… He wouldn’t… Is that a possibility?”
“This is the Bratva, my dear,” she says mildly. “Everything is a possibility. Now, come on. Put the dress on and don’t dawdle.”
She unzips the back of the dress and helps me slip into it. Then she zips me back up and twists me around to face the floor-length mirror.
“Oh…” I say, staring at my reflection.
I finger the soft, floaty fabric of the dress. The dress cinches in slightly at the waist, highlighting my figure, and then flounces out around my thighs.
“It’s beautiful,” I say. “But…”
“Now what?” Yulia asks impatiently.
I gesture at the neckline. “Look at this.”
The bodice of the dress is tight. It pushes my breasts up, making them appear twice as big.
“I fail to see the issue.”
I sigh, but don’t argue. There’s no point. She’s as stubborn as her son.
Yulia looks smugly pleased as she pulls out a pair of black Louboutin heels and places them at my feet. “Go on. They’ll match the dress perfectly.”
“Did you buy a wheelchair, too? Because I’m not going to be able to walk in those, Yulia.”
“Just try them on. Jesus, I’ve never met a woman so determined not to play dress-up.”
“I was more of a tomboy growing up,” I admit. “I guess nothing has changed.”
“Well, it’s going to have to. Sit there and wait.”
She bustles into the annex to grab supplies from the vanity, then returns to comb out my hair and apply some light makeup. I suffer through it all silently.
But when she breaks out the jewelry, I put my foot down. “No way. I’m not wearing that.”
“They’re pearls.”
“I don’t care. I’m not wearing them. I’m not walking into dinner wearing jewelry paid for with Aleks’s blood money.”
“He paid for everything you’re wearing.”
“It’s… different.”
I don’t know how to explain it to her. Wearing a necklace he bought is like wearing a collar. I’m not going to give him the satisfaction.
Yulia shakes her head, but she relents. And when she steps back, she seems satisfied with my appearance. “You really are beautiful. And I say that objectively.”
I turn back towards my reflection and my heart starts beating a little faster.
I never would have guessed I could pull something like this off, but there’s no denying that’s exactly what I’m doing. It’s not that I don’t look like me—it’s just a level of me that I’ve never achieved before. The best of me.
“Thank you, Yulia,” I mumble. I’ve never felt this… feminine before.”
What I really want to say is, Mia would be so proud right now.
That thought is enough to curdle my good mood. My stomach clenches as I remember where I am. Why I’m here. When I remember that I don’t even know if Mia is okay, or my mother, or Rob…
“Something wrong, my dear?”
I shake my head. “No,” I mumble. “Nothing. What next?”
“This way.” She turns and leaves.
I follow, but I’m focused on putting one stiletto’d heel in front of the other and remaining upright while doing so. Harder than it looks. I’m so absorbed that I don’t notice Yulia has come to a halt, so I slam into her back with a very unladylike grunt.
She’s standing next to my bed, staring up at the wall. At the sketch I finished earlier.
It shows Aleks standing behind Pyotr. The speech bubble next to Aleks’s head reads, “Clip her wings so she cannot fly.”
Pyotr holds a bird cage in his hands. I’m sitting inside of it, gripping the rungs of the cage desperately.
Pyotr’s speech bubble reads, “Yes, Master.”
I’m happy with the sketch, for the most part. Aleks’s angles are mostly right. Sharp and cruel, to go with the savage glint in his eyes and the jaw clenched tight with icy control.
“It’s very good, Olivia,” Yulia murmurs. “You’re a talented artist.” Then she turns around and faces me. “Time to go down.”