14. Natalia
14
NATALIA
Misha kneels down in front of Remi, the two of them sharing an overly cinematic goodbye, as if they won’t be connected at the hip eight short hours from now.
I tousle Misha’s hair while he presses his nose to Remi’s. “How about we play some chess when I get back home after work?”
“Only if you’re prepared to lose again.”
“You little stinker!” I swat at him, and he skitters off, laughing.
His limbs look long and lanky. I swear he’s visibly grown in just the last couple weeks.
Suddenly, I’m the one in need of an overwrought goodbye. He might grow another inch in the eight hours I’m gone at work. By the time I get home, he’ll have a goatee and a credit score.
I walk into the foyer, not even sparing a passing glance for the tall figure leaning against the front door. I’ve resigned myself to the overbearing presence of my bodyguards.
“Are you ready?” I ask, expecting Leif, Leonty, or Olaf to open the door for me—if I have to be under lock and key, at least they’re gentlemen about it.
But the man who turns his broody, silver eyes on me is no gentleman.
“Good morning, lastochka .”
I successfully avoided Andrey all weekend. To his credit, he made it easy. He gave me a wide berth. Even still, this huge manor felt too small for the both of us. It’s why I need to get out now.
“I don’t have time for this. I’m going to work.”
He bands an arm across the doorway, silhouetted by the sunrise. “I think it’s better if you stay home today.”
“You’ll have to schedule your next bullshit intervention outside of work hours if you want to trick me into attending.”
Andrey doesn’t move. He just lowers his chin, his silver eyes piercing into my soul.
“You’ve already given me a full-scale security team,” I argue, even though Andrey isn’t arguing back. “Not to mention a personal guard dog. What is the point of any of them if I can’t go out and live my life?”
His brow furrows. He seems to be searching my face for something, but I have no idea what that is.
I screech in frustration. “You’ve hijacked every aspect of my life and I’m freaking sick of it. If you?—”
“Okay.”
I fall silent. “What?”
He drops his arm and steps back, waving me through the door. “If it means that much to you, go to work.”
He says it like he’s doing me a favor. Like I should be grateful he’s letting me leave the house. But I’m not so pissed that I’m going to kick a gift horse in the mouth… no matter how satisfying that would be.
“Right. I’ll, uh… I’ll just… be going then.” I shimmy sideways, staying carefully out of reach as I skirt past him to the driveway.
Andrey stands watch in the doorway as I climb into the car and start down the drive.
For a second, I feel a slight modicum of shame. After all, he is just trying to protect me and the babies.
But the feeling lasts only until he disappears from view.
“Have you heard?”
“I know, it’s just awful!”
I turtle deeper into the collar of my shirt, trying to pretend I can’t hear the whispers floating around the office and, most importantly, that I’m not regretting coming into the office today.
Andrey cannot be right about this, too. I refuse to let that happen.
The crown of Abby’s head passes by my cubicle before her nails click against the laminate paneling of the cubicle across the hall. It’s her calling card—the same way Freddy Krueger laughs as he slices through teenagers’ abdomens, Abby Whitshaw raps her fingernails on the walls right before she comes to annoy the hell out of me.
“I did wonder when he never responded to my texts,” Abby whispers. “It’s not like him…”
How often was she texting Byron? Was he trying to sleep with her, too? Not that he’d really have to try.
“What do you think happened? Do you think it had something to do with her ?”
I stare fixedly at my laptop screen, but I can feel the heat of their gazes burning through my cubicle. They’re not making any secret about who the “her” is in this scenario. How the hell did I manage to become the punchline and the suspect all in one year?
Bitterness flares through me as I connect the chaotic last months with the only thing that has changed in my life recently: Andrey.
I rise from my desk slowly, calmly… like someone in need of a stale coffee from the break room and not someone who may or may not have murdered her boss.
Unfortunately, my attempt to draw zero attention to myself is shattered when my Schwarzenegger-sized shadow follows me into the breakroom.
“Are you okay?” Leonty asks, closing the door behind him.
“Keep it open,” I order. “Otherwise, they’ll think we’re fooling around in here.”
Leonty actually blushes. “That’s ridiculous.”
“What? I’m not your type?”
His blush only deepens. “You know that’s not?—”
I wave a hand in his face. “I’m only teasing.” I grab a juice pack and slump down into one of the plastic chairs. “I’m guessing you’ve heard the rumors, too?”
“I don’t pay attention.” He places a finger against his temple. “It’s just elevator music in here most of the time.”
I snort. “You’re my bodyguard. Your job—and, knowing Andrey, your life—depend on you paying attention. Tell me what you’ve heard.”
Leonty helps himself to a juice, too. “The rumors don’t concern you, Nat. Don’t let it bother you.”
“Byron is missing!” My voice comes out even shriller than usual. “Everyone thinks I have something to do with it. And honestly, that may be true.”
“It’s not.”
“Please. You expect me to pretend like this doesn’t have ‘Andrey Kuznetsov’ written all over it? Byron just quit his job and disappeared without a trace right after they had a chest-banging, dick-swinging, testosterone-fueled showdown.”
“People go missing all the time.”
I groan, dropping my face into my hands. “Like I don’t have enough to worry about.”
“Exactly. Don’t put this on your plate along with the rest of it. Let those bitches talk all they want. No one can accuse you of hurting another human being.”
I frown through my fingers at him. “This from the man who literally saw me shoot a human being at point blank range.”
“Oh, shit.” He chuckles through a wince. “Forgot about that.”
“Lucky you. I haven’t.”
Leonty gives me a sympathetic smile. “Let’s cut out early today. That way, you won’t have to deal with the rumor mill.”
“You’re just suggesting that because you wanna get home to Mila.”
“She did text me this picture earlier?—”
“Urgh, no, that’s enough. Stop right there,” I say with a shudder. “I don’t need details. You’ve convinced me. Let’s go.”
The only thing worse than approaching the manor mid-afternoon and knowing Andrey is waiting for me inside is realizing that he was right about me skipping work today.
I expect for him to meet me at the door with a therapist in one hand and the kind of sign you’d see at airport arrivals that says, “ I told you so.”
But the entryway is empty and I don’t see anyone as I make my way through the house and up to my room.
I click the door closed and kick off my shoes. I’ll take a nice, long shower and then go off to find Misha and tell him I’m letting him win every board game we play, but we’ll both know it’s a lie. He’s absurdly good at every game we play, and I don’t stand a chance even if I am trying my hardest.
But just as I’m about to undress, I notice a folded white card sitting on my duvet.
Heart hammering in my chest—though I’m not sure if it’s frightened hammering or excited hammering—I open it.
Go next door.
I flash the card to Remi. “You know anything about this, Mr. Guard Dog?”
His tongue lolls out of his mouth. I take that as a “no.”
Letting my curiosity win out, I drop the note and head into the hallway. The door next to mine is cracked open, and Remi pushes through it like he can’t wait any longer.
I follow him in and my jaw drops.
It’s a nursery.
Not just any nursery, either—it’s the dream nursery from my vision boards. Everything is exactly accurate, from the snowy, sheepskin wool rug to the Egg Dodo baby basket I pinned to my board more as a joke than anything else.
I slip deeper into the room, running my hands over everything to make sure I’m not in a weirdly realistic dream. Part of me wants to throw off all my clothes and roll around in that sheepskin rug just to be really positive.
But Remi steals my thunder and divebombs the rug, rubbing himself all over it. He looks so happy that I don’t have the heart to stop him.
“Nat?”
I recognize Mila’s voice instantly and turn towards the door. “In here!”
She pops into the room, takes one look at it, and her jaw drops, too. “Oh, no. He didn’t.”
I twist around and find my expression mirrored on her face. “Andrey did this?”
“Who else?” she asks. “You’ve got to hand it to the man: he sure has taste.”
I don’t bother telling her that I’m the one who picked out half the stuff in this nursery. That may be true, but he’s the one who has elevated it in ways I couldn’t have even imagined. There’s art on the walls and books on the shelves. Someone must have picked all of that out, and I have a feeling Andrey is too much of a control freak to hand that responsibility off to anyone else.
“Hey, there’s a note.” Mila holds up a folded piece of paper just like the one that led me here.
I take it gingerly from Mila’s extended hand and flip it open.
Dear Natalia,
I wanted to make your dream a reality. I’ve taken some liberties in filling in the blanks, but you can change anything you don’t like. Consider it my gift to you. The only thing I ask in return is for you to reconsider therapy.
Yours, Andrey
I read the note again and again.
“Nat? Everything okay?”
“‘Consider it my gift to you,’” I grit. “‘The only thing I ask in return is for you to reconsider therapy.’”
Mila is chewing on the inside of her cheek when I make eye contact again. “Annie warned him that this wasn’t a good idea.”
I throw the note on the floor. “Of course she did. And of course he didn’t listen. Because Andrey Kuznetsov doesn’t listen to anyone but himself.”
I give the room another once-over. I no longer see a sweet and heartfelt gesture—I see a bribe. Another way for him to control me with his money.
Mila winces. “What are you going to do?”
“I’m gonna donate everything to charity,” I decide, content with my decision the moment the words leave my lips.
Not even Mila’s horrified face can deter me. “Donate it to—Nat! This stuff is expensive as hell. And it’s all so beautiful. I know you’re angry, but this room is perfect. You can’t just get rid of everything.”
I meet her eyes, steady and determined. “Watch me.”