Chapter 12 #2
As fast as I can, I finish and grab a towel from the floor before getting up and drying myself off. I keep the towel around my body while I dig in the bags for clothes, and after getting dressed in a pair of black jeans, a T-shirt, and an old but warm sweater, I walk to the sink.
“Come, malka. Let’s brush our teeth.”
Simi gets up and walks to my side, then lifts her arms. Lifting her, I set her down on the counter. I didn’t see our toothbrushes in the bags, so grabbing the toothpaste, I put some on Simi’s finger and on my own.
“Brush like this,” I tell her before showing her what to do.
Every second I get with her is the most precious gift I’ve ever received, and I absorb it like a dry sponge.
Once we’ve rinsed our mouths, I brush her hair and braid the strands. While she continues to color in her book, I untangle my hair, then leave it loose so it can air-dry.
My gaze only touches on the mirror for a second, long enough to see the bruises on my face, before I ignore them again.
I return to our belongings and find a handbag. Putting our important papers inside, I zip it closed and place the strap sideways over my neck.
“Come, malka.”
Simi gathers her crayons and book and brings them to me. I put her crayons in my handbag and the book back in one of the trash bags. Tying them closed again, I rise to my feet and take Simi’s hand.
When I open the door, my child spots the cart with food and pulls free.
“Yay!”
Georgi gets up from where he’s sitting in the armchair, and I stare at him with parted lips as he walks toward the cart.
Wearing a black silk dress shirt, most of his bruises and wounds are covered. The top two buttons are undone, and even though he’s lost weight, the luxurious fabric still stretches over his muscles.
The shirt is paired with black chinos and leather loafers, and as I gape at him, I’m reminded of how dangerously attractive he is.
I forgot about it in the torture chamber and with everything that’s happened.
Seeing him dressed in the expensive clothes, his beard trimmed back to a five o'clock shadow, and his hair neat, I’m also reminded that Georgi is a capo of the Cosa Nostra.
He’s no longer the prisoner. He’s back in a position of power.
“Ready to eat, printsesa?” he asks Simi as he helps her to sit on a chair by a small round table.
“Yes.” Looking at him, her eyes shine like polished stones, as if she’s already idolizing the ground he walks on.
Georgi sets a plate down in front of her. “Is this what you wanted?”
She nods, a happy smile spreading over her face. She picks up a teaspoon and cracks the shell, then peels off the little pieces. When she scoops into the egg, the white slips off and falls on the plate. My daughter picks it up with her fingers and pops it into her mouth.
I watch as she takes a piece of the toast that’s been cut into slices and dunks it in the yolk.
Georgi turns to look at me and gestures with a jerk of his head for me to come closer.
“I had them prepare an omelet for you. There’s also bacon and lots of toast and cheese.” He gestures at the cart. “Coffee or tea? Juice?”
“Juice, please,” Simi says with a mouth stuffed full of food.
Georgi pours some into a glass for my daughter and sets it down beside her plate.
When she reaches for it, I move forward. “Use both hands, milo moe.”
“Okay.” She licks her lips, and picking up the glass, she takes a few sips before setting it down again. Perched on the edge of the chair, her legs swing as she uses her fingers again to eat some of the cheese.
Pulling the other chair closer to her, I sit down and watch as she devours her breakfast.
“Nina,” Georgi says, his tone harsher than I’m used to.
When my eyes dart to his face and I see the dark frown, a chill skitters down my spine. Every muscle in my body tenses as alarm bells ring in my ears.
As I reach for Simi, placing my hand on her shoulder so I can easily grab her, he says, “Eat.”
If Simi weren’t here, I’d ask him how he expects me to repay him, but I don’t want to have such an awful conversation in front of her.
Everything we received from Boris came at a price. I had to work and take care of the prisoners. Anton got to rape me whenever he felt like it. I had to lure men into traps.
During the quiet days, I had to stay in my room and out of sight. If I was found roaming the halls, I was beaten. If I dared to ask for anything, I was beaten.
And Simi’s safety was always threatened.
As I continue to stare at his face, ready for any sudden movement from him, he shakes his head and grabs a plate from the cart.
He sets it down in front of me, and as the delicious aroma hits my nostrils, my stomach growls loudly.
“Do you want me to feed you?” He tips his head at Simi, and seeing the warning in his eyes that he’ll force me if he has to, and probably hurt my daughter, I quickly grab a fork and break a piece off the omelet.
“Coffee, tea, or juice?” he asks, his tone not as tense as before.
“I had water in the bathroom.”
Realizing Simi has stopped eating and she’s watching Georgi and me with big eyes, I force a tense smile to my face. “Have you had enough, milo moe?”
She pushes her glass closer to me and whispers, “Take a sip, Mama.”
Oh God, she picked up on the tension, and she’s reverted to whispering so we don’t get in trouble.
To set her at ease, I drink some of the orange juice before brushing my palm over the side of her head. “Eat more, malka.”
“Simi,” Georgi says, pulling her attention away from me. My eyes dart back to his face, and he looks right at me as he asks her, “What does your mama like to drink?”
“I don’t know.” She pats my arm. “Mama, do you like juice too?”
Wanting this conversation to stop, I admit, “I like tea. No sugar.”
“Finally,” Georgi mutters under his breath, then he grins at Simi. “Thanks for the help, printsesa.”
I keep a vigilant eye on Georgi as he pours tea into a cup.
“Milk?” he asks.
“No, thank you.”
The cup looks small in his hand as he brings it to the table. He sets it down right by me, then lifts an eyebrow, and it feels like a silent order for me to drink every last drop.
Not having much of a choice, I pick up the tea and sip on it, my other hand still on Simi’s shoulder.
Georgi goes to sit on the armchair and stretches out his left leg, pain tightening his features. His gaze flicks to me.
“Does she understand English?”
I shake my head.
“Why are you being so stubborn about eating and drinking something?”
“Because there’s always a price to pay.”
Simi pats my arm, then says, “I’m full, Mama. What must I do?”
“You can color more, if you like?”
She leans even closer and whispers, “Won’t I get in trouble for wasting food?”
“Never,” Georgi answers. “Just leave the leftovers, printsesa.”
She slips off the chair and walks to Georgi. “Must I call you prints?”
He shakes his head and leans forward, resting his right forearm on his thigh. “No, you can call me Georgi.”
With the innocence of a child, she rubs her fingers over his sleeve, as if she’s liking the feel of the silk fabric. “Where is your palace?”
“In New York. Have you heard of it?”
Simi shakes her head and continues to rub his shirt between her index finger and thumb. “No. Is it near the Enchanted Forest where Snow White lives? Do you know her?”
“Unfortunately, I don’t.”
When Simi yawns, I get up and walk to her. “Are you tired?”
“Yes, but I don’t want to miss flying to the castle.”
“You won’t,” Georgi replies. “Take a nap while I talk to your Mama.”
She glances at the bed, then back at where she’s still rubbing his shirt between her fingers.
“Santino,” Georgi calls, and a moment later, the door opens. “Bring one of my shirts with the same silk fabric as the one I’m wearing.”
The guard nods and disappears down the hallway.
I’m trying not to read too much into the kind things Georgi is doing for my daughter. I need to stay on guard because this could be a trap.
After all, I betrayed him and lured him to certain death.
At some point, Georgi is going to take his revenge. He’s probably only waiting until he feels better and has had time to heal.