40. Briar
40
brIAR
" I 've been instructed to stay with you until you eat, Miss Thorne," Olga says. She's seated at the dining table, holding a book in front of her. It's some psychological thriller.
"What is he so busy with?" I ask. "Why hasn't he come to see me?"
"I don't know," she says. "I'm just the housekeeper."
"Is he seeing another woman?" I ask. The very thought of it feels like taking a blade to my heart.My eyes mist against my will.
She sighs and puts the book down.
"Great, now she's crying," Olga says.
"If he's bored of me, I want him to say it to my face," I say.
My emotions have been all over the place lately. They mostly swing from rage to sadness and back again. And my mind keeps coming up with worst-case scenarios. And all of these scenarios make me want to cry.
Whiskey whimpers when the tears roll down my cheeks.
"You're upsetting the dog," Olga says. "You must eat, Miss Thorne."
"I'm not hungry," I say.
It feels like there's a rock sitting in my stomach. I have no appetite.
"This isn't good for the—" Olga stops herself from finishing the sentence. And then she straightens and says, “It isn't good for Whiskey to see you unhappy.”
I pet the puppy's head. He's grown so much since I first came here. And if it weren't for him, my past week here would have been much more dreadful.
"I'm not doing it on purpose," I say. "Being apart from Dimitri feels wrong in every way. He told me that he loved me, Olga. Do you think he stopped loving me?"
For the first time since I've known her, Olga looks at me with something akin to warmth in her eyes.
"I don't think that's the case, Miss Thorne," she says. "He's not doing so well himself either."
"What?"
She stands and walks toward the patio door. "I shouldn't have said that."
"Is he sick?" I ask. My chest starts rising and falling as I think back to Paris. I've seen a man die before my own eyes. "Was he injured in a fight?"
"I'll tell you more about him," Olga says, turning around. "If you eat first."
I stare at her.
And then I look at all the food spread out before me. There's a chicken pie, dumplings, garlic bread, and a cheesy pasta dish before me. I pile some pasta onto my plate.
Olga watches me with wide eyes as I eat for the first time today.
"It worked," she whispers to herself. "There are cookies, too. Freshly baked. The chefs stayed late to make them for you."
"Cookies sound good," I say. "But tell me about Dimitri. How is he? Why is he not coming to see me?”
"I could get into trouble for telling you this," Olga says. "But I'll also get into trouble if you don't eat tonight."
“Please,” I say. “Tell me everything."
She places three giant cookies in the microwave. I see a classic chocolate chip cookie, a white chocolate macadamia nut cookie, and a snickerdoodle. They look absolutely mouth-watering now that I have my appetite back.
"He hasn't been himself," Olga says, pressing the timer on the microwave. "He's worried about your well-being but hasn't been eating or sleeping himself."
"Then why is he doing it?" I ask. "Why is he staying away from me?"
"I'm afraid I don't know the answer," she says. "But don't misunderstand him like everyone else. He's a man with integrity. He would never disrespect you by keeping another woman. I've known Mr. Drakonov for decades now, and I haven't once seen him adore someone the way he adores you. And if he's staying away from you, I'm sure he has his reasons."
"It just hurts, Olga," I say. "It hurts so much."
She takes the cookies out of the microwave. The chocolate chips are slightly melted now. They're all gooey and perfect—just how I like them.
"I'm sorry," she says. "But pain is just a part of life sometimes. It forges true strength, and that's something nobody can take away from you."
I look at the older woman. "I noticed from the very beginning that you're very loyal to Dimitri. But it's more than that. You love him, don't you?"
"I owe him my life," she says.
"How did you meet him?" I ask. "I mean, it's okay if you don't want to talk about it, but I'm curious."
She motions for me to eat. I shovel more pasta into my mouth, letting the creamy goodness explode on my taste buds. Now that I'm eating again, I realize I'm actually ravenous.
"I was born in a whorehouse," she says. "The daughters of prostitutes are usually initiated into the same life. I was sold to a man when I was fourteen. He kept me as his pet until he tired of me. He liked them young, so when I started looking more like a woman, he sold me to another man. Years went by. My masters changed, but my fate didn't. Until one day, someone saw me for the first time in my life. It was at one of their parties. I was to stay hidden in my room, but a little boy found me. He held my hand as I suffered through one of the worst panic attacks of my life.”
My heart beats hard in my chest. Olga looks pointedly at my plate, so I take another bite.
"When most people look at Dimitri, they see a cold-hearted killer who doesn't have a conscience," she says. "But when I look at him, I see the little six-year-old boy who begged his parents to give me a job in their home. Of course, his parents were understandably concerned about my past."
“They took you in?” I ask.
She nods. “They gave me a job and accommodations. I was treated with respect for the first time in my life.”
“So you’ve known Dimitri all your life, then,” I say.
"Dimitri is like a son to me," she says, smiling at me. It's like watching the lights on a Christmas tree being turned on for the first time. She looks so beautiful that my breath catches in my throat.
“I always wondered why you were so protective of him,” I say. “Now I know why.”
"I told you my story because I wanted to tell you that the man has a heart of gold," she says. "But he saves it for those he loves. There aren't very many left of them, but even a blind man can see that he loves you. Just please don't go assuming things about him, no matter what you learn about him."
"I would never," I say. "I care about him."
She's quiet for the rest of the night. She stays until I finish eating the rest of my meal.
"Mr. Drakonov will be pleased." She looks at my empty plate.
"If you talk to him, can you tell him I miss him?" I say. My eyes well with tears. "I miss him more than I ever thought was possible."
She nods. "I'll let him know."
She stares at me for a moment, but then turns toward the door.
"Olga?" I call out.
She turns. I walk toward her and wrap my arms around her. She freezes for a moment, but then she hugs me back. I hold her tight for a few moments before letting go of her.
"Thank you for keeping me company tonight." Pulling away, I smile at her.“It means a lot to me.”
She bows her head. "Good night, Miss Thorne."
She holds her purse close to her chest and walks toward the front door. When she leaves, she locks the door behind her as always. The sound of the lock turning usually makes me feel melancholic. But tonight, there's a rush of excitement coursing through my veins.
Because pressed against the inside of my palm is a small metal key.
It’s the duplicate.
I noticed a long time ago that Olga had two sets of keys in her purse. And if I’m lucky, she won’t notice it’s missing until the morning.
I'm sick of waiting and hoping that Dimitri will come for me.
It's about time I take matters into my own hands.
If he won't come to me, then I'll go to him.