Chapter 12 Nadya
NADYA
The paper snowflakes crafted by my niece and nephew flutter as I tape them to the window.
Anya sits cross-legged on the floor, cutting more from old newspapers while Mikhail builds a tower from empty cereal boxes.
The apartment feels smaller with all the decorations, but warmer too, like traditional holidays when I was young and my mother would bake honey cakes for Novy God.
It brings a smile to my face.
"Tell us about the Snow Maiden again," Anya says, not looking up from her scissors.
I settle onto the couch, pulling my legs under me.
"Well," I start, "she lived in the forest with her father, Ded Moroz. Every winter, she helped him deliver gifts to good children."
"Was she lonely?"
Mikhail asks, abandoning his boxes to climb onto the couch beside me.
"Sometimes. But she had the animals and the trees for company. And she knew that every year, when the snow melted, she would return to her father's realm until winter came again."
Anya frowns and puts down her scissors.
"That's sad. She couldn't stay forever."
I smooth her hair back from her face.
"But she always came back every year."
Her sweet, compassionate heart reminds me of when I was a child and prayed to Ded Moroz myself that his daughter could stay with him forever.
The gifts stacked in the corner catch my eye.
Three neat piles, each wrapped in different colored paper.
More than I could have afforded on my own.
More than I should have been able to buy.
The guilt sits in my stomach like a lead weight, but when I see their eyes light up every time they walk past and there are a few more, I can't allow myself to wallow.
Mikhail notices my gaze.
"Are those all for us?"
"Some are for Mamochka too," I say.
"But yes, most are yours."
"Where did you get the money?" Anya asks.
She's eight, but she pays attention.
She knows we've been struggling because every time Irina scolds her about not having enough money for something, she sweetly offers to sell her long wavy hair to a wig shop.
It makes that bittersweet feeling even worse.
"Tips have been good at work. The hotel gets busy during the holidays."
It's not entirely a lie.
Xander does pay me well.
But the children don't need to know what I do to earn it.
The front door opens, and Irina's voice carries down the hallway along with the sound of jingling keys.
"I'm home."
She appears in the living room, still wearing her scrubs from the hospital.
Her eyes sweep over the decorations, landing on the gifts and her expression tightens.
"Oh babies," she says, greeting them with kisses on top of their heads, but her eyes track to mine.
"Go wash up for dinner now," she says and I know what's coming already.
I'm spending his money too quickly, so excited to offer my niece and nephew a memorable holiday for once that I've not used restraint where I should have.
They grumble but obey, leaving us alone.
Irina crosses her arms and nods toward the presents.
"That's a lot of gifts, Nadya."
I keep my voice steady but my head drops.
I focus on picking up the paper clippings from Anya's snowflake adventure.
"I've been saving."
"On a maid's salary?"
"Tips, Irina. I told you. Rich guests are generous during the holidays. And I'm management now too."
I keep moving to hide the small tremor in my hands, but my sister is persistent.
She may not push and figure it out now, but she will.
My heart aches for the moment she realizes what I've become and pulls away from me in fear, the way I should've pulled away from Xander in the beginning.
She studies my face.
I force myself to meet her eyes, even though my pulse quickens.
"What hotel did you say you worked at?"
"The Metropol."
"I have a friend who works there—in housekeeping. She's never mentioned you."
My mouth goes dry.
"It's a big place. We probably work different shifts."
Avoiding her now, I carry the paper clippings to the trash bin and toss them, then return for the scissors and to pick up boxes from the floor.
Irina doesn't look convinced, but Mikhail calls from the kitchen, asking about dinner.
She sighs and heads toward the sound of his voice.
"We'll talk about this later."
When I'm done picking up I flop back on the couch, staring at the snowflakes on the window.
Everything I'm doing now started out as a means to provide for them and make her life easier.
Part of me feels resentful that she's not more appreciative, but I can see the concern in her eyes every time she questions me and I deflect.
I had no idea what I was walking into when I went for the job interview, and now I'm stuck.
The burner phone buzzes so I pull it out of my pocket, dreading what he wants now.
It's a text.
Xander: 7:15: I need you tonight. Wear the dress and earrings I gave you.
I stare at the screen, my thumbs hovering over the keys.
My eyes flick up at the archway into the kitchen and I feel panic needle at my conscience as I type my response.
Me: 7:16: I can't. I'm with the children.
He really can't pick a worse time.
Irina is already suspicious that I’m not being honest and if her friend really does work at the hotel I'm claiming to work at it will only be a matter of time before it's confirmed I’m lying.
But his response comes immediately without mercy.
Xander: 7:16: Your sister is home. Be ready in an hour.
I grumble as Anya shuffles past me, dashing into the kitchen.
I'm on a fucking leash here and he can't see that every time he jerks the chain my sister grows more wary of my secret life.
I can't keep doing this.
Me: 7:18: What for?
Again. His response comes immediately.
Xander: 7:18: Business gathering. Don't keep me waiting.
I close my eyes and lean back against the couch cushions.
The very black dress and diamond earrings that made Irina skeptical to begin with.
Xander is completely out of touch with how this feels.
He's lived life in such a way to get everything he wants when he wants it without a care about how it affects anyone around him that he can't even see how much this will affect my life.
I don't think he's heartless.
If he were, he couldn't be so gentle with me after sex.
But his consistent demands are crippling me.
In the kitchen, I can hear Irina helping the children with their homework.
If I go in there and tell her I’m leaving she's going to hound me for answers I don’t have.
I want that normal life, where I help with dinner and homework and tuck them in.
And I want it without struggling anymore.
I don’t need his money.
I could find a job with meager pay and we'd be fine.
But I can't say no to him.
I hang my head for a moment, rub my temples.
After sleeping with him he might find it difficult to pull the trigger, but I’m not stupid.
He won't hesitate to remove me the way he removed his former cleaner.
I won't be that victim tonight and ruin the holiday for my family.
I stand and head to my bedroom to get ready.
The dress fits perfectly, hugging my curves without being tight.
The earrings catch the light when I move my head.
I study myself in the mirror and barely recognize the woman looking back.
She looks expensive.
Kept.
Especially when I slather on makeup from an expensive palette he bought, top it off with my hair braided loosely and a spritz of perfume.
Irina knocks on my door.
"Going out?"
"Work event. Holiday party at the hotel."
She eyes my outfit.
"That's quite a dress for cleaning floors."
"It's not a cleaning event. It's for all the staff. Management likes us to look professional."
Another lie.
They're coming easier now.
But they still make me feel sick to my stomach.
"When will you be back?"
"Late. Don't wait up."
I pick up the clutch Xander bought that matches the dress and pull my mother's black lace shawl from my underwear drawer, one thing I have left of her.
Irina gives me a critical eye as I pass her and head out to the kitchen.
I kiss the children goodbye and grab my coat.
Outside, Igor waits beside a black sedan, engine running.
He nods when he sees me and opens the rear door.
Xander sits in the back, dressed in a dark suit.
His gray eyes sweep over me, taking in the dress and earrings.
A small smile touches his mouth.
"Acceptable," he says as I slide in beside him.
I've come to accept that as his highest praise.
It makes my cheeks warm.
Igor closes the door and gets behind the wheel.
We pull away from the curb, heading toward the city center.
"Where are we going?" I ask.
"The Sokolniki. Leonid is hosting."
He doesn't look at me.
His gaze stays fixed on the windshield as we accelerate into traffic.
The Pakhan… I've heard Xander mention him, but I've never met him.
My hands twist in my lap as I feel nervous energy swirling.
I don't want sucked deeper into his world, but it appears I don't have a choice.
"Why do you need me there?"
"Because I want you there."
His tone suggests the conversation is over.
I turn to look out the window, watching the city slide past.
The snow is falling harder now, coating the streets in white.
"Tell me about your Novy God traditions," Xander says after a few minutes.
I glance at him.
"What about them?"
I feel a little uncomfortable, but not overly so.
Xander has questioned my life so many times I'm growing used to it.
"The holidays seem important to your family. I'd like to understand."
His hand reaches for my thigh, rests there gently as his thumb strokes the soft material.
I'm surprised he's being so interested.
Previous attempts at conversation felt more like he was grilling me for information.
This feels like he actually cares.
"It was. In Russia, New Year is the real celebration. Christmas is religious, but New Year is for everyone. My parents would stay up until midnight, and we'd drink champagne and watch the fireworks from the roof of the apartment building."
"Even as children?"
I chuckled.
"It was just apple juice, but we didn't know it."
The memory makes me smile.