10. Mara
10
MARA
“ I ’ll see you in the morning, okay?” Tillie nods before she loses her fight to hold back a tigerlike yawn. It’s been a big day for us both. “I love you, Tillie.”
“I love you too, Mom,” she replies before she hands the phone back to Mrs. Lichard.
“Don’t,” she warns when she spots the numerous apologies beaming from my eyes. “I love having her here, and we have almost a week’s worth of Home and Away and Neighbours episodes to catch up on.” My worry eases from the excitement in her tone. She loves Australian soap shows as much as Tillie does. “I just wish you weren’t taking the late bus home. You know it isn’t safe.”
“I’ll be fine,” I assure her, confident in how well Maksim has cleaned up the streets of Myasnikov since he made it his hometown. “Are you sure you don’t want me to collect Tillie when I arrive home? I don’t mind.”
Air whistles between her teeth when she waves off my offer. “And have you interrupt my sleep? No, thank you. Unlike you, some of us need our beauty sleep.” Her expression switches from playful to mothering. “We will see you in the morning. Travel safe.”
I promise I will before disconnecting our FaceTime chat.
After tossing my phone into my bag, I rub the kink in the back of my neck. I’m exhausted. My roster was already bursting at the seams, but Rafael’s lie set it back an hour.
I had to scramble to finish all my assigned apartments, but I did it. All the residents on my ledger are sleeping in freshly made beds, and I’m a fifty-minute bus ride from doing the same.
I just have one last task to tick off first. I need to return the dress Rafael gifted me earlier. I can’t accept it since Ark was unaware it had been given to me. He purchased those clothes for his guests. They were not Rafael’s to give away.
With the hour late, and since my visit is more personal than business related, I close my locker before heading for the main elevator.
“Ma’am.” The elevator attendant finalizes his greeting with a glare before he pushes the call button for me.
I breathe a sigh of relief when he doesn’t shadow my entrance into the car. It could be because he doesn’t deem me a threat to the residents here, but my intuition pleads with me to look deeper. His decision feels like it centers more around Ark than me.
After selecting the main floor of Ark’s apartment, I check my face in the mirrored wall. I look wretched. Dark circles plague my eyes, and my cheeks look gaunt. It is understandable after recalling what I had for lunch.
Air isn’t overly filling.
I hesitate to exit the elevator when it arrives at Ark’s floor. Someone is ending their week surrounded by friends. Four apartments spurt off this hallway, and its echoing design makes it impossible to work out which apartment is being overrun with guests—guests I will most likely have to clean up after in the morning.
The cleaning staff have a seven-day roster. Weekends are not guaranteed days off.
While grumbling about my dislike of my position, I stomp down the carpeted hallway. Music carries through my ears the further I encroach on Ark’s apartment. It leaves no doubt as to who is keeping the other tenants awake.
Ark is entertaining guests—many of them.
Confident they’ll all most likely be as attractive as the female giving him gaga eyes this morning, I pivot on my heel and stalk back to the elevator.
I’m halfway there when a familiar voice says, “Hey, Mara. Ditching already?”
I muster up a fake grin before spinning to face the voice. “I’d have to be invited to di-ditch.”
Rafael shrugs as if science is an unnecessary part of physics. “Tomato, tomato .”
He bands his arm around my shoulders before he twists me around to face Ark’s apartment. I try to dig my heels into the carpet. It is a woeful waste of time. Rafael is too strong, and I’m not exactly putting up a fight.
I’ve been dying to see how the other half lives, and with Tillie already in bed, why not live a little?
When I enter the foyer, I anticipate being hit with narrowed glares and snarled lips.
To my surprise, my arrival goes relatively unnoticed. The only person who pays me any attention is the blonde from earlier, the one who had a date with Ark in the conference room of this building.
“Did you two officially meet?” Rafael asks after stealing a glass of champagne from a server’s tray and handing it to me. “Or did I hatch my ruse too early for an introduction?”
“Ah…”
I’m saved from looking like a blubbering idiot when he waves the blonde over. Her excitement about his wordless invitation announces she is clueless that Rafael orchestrated her demise, or she doesn’t care.
I don’t know how the latter could be plausible. I was devastated to have lost Ark’s attention, and I’m to blame for the injustice.
I guess she has no reason to fret. She is gorgeous and successful. I could never compete with her.
As Rafael offers an introduction, I wipe my riled expression. “Veronika, this is Mara, the woman I told you about earlier.”
Veronika’s mouth falls open as she playfully slaps Rafael’s chest. “You weren’t joking, Raf. She’s totally gorg.”
Gorg?
I’m left floundering when another faultless specimen joins our trio. This woman is brunette and approximately the same age and height as me. “Who is your designer?” She lowers her familiar eyes to my skirt, their trek slow as she takes in the outfit I handcrafted. “That stitchwork is impeccable, and I’ve not seen that fabric anywhere. Is it vintage?”
“Ah. It’s a c-custom piece.” I’m such a liar. The fabric is from one of Mrs. Lichard’s old tablecloths. She was throwing it out, assuming the material was useless since it had a tear. I made myself a skirt and Tillie two dresses from the one swatch of material. “I made it.”
“You made it?” Veronika bumps the unnamed brunette out of the way when I bob my head. “Very mode. I totally approve.” She twists her torso to face Rafael like he oversees my schedule. “She must accompany me to the boutique to help pick out some items.” Her whine reminds me of the tantrums Tillie used to undertake when she was five. “ Please , Raffy. She clearly has an eye for fashion.” Her eyes return to me, begging and wet. “Wilfred Iwona’s garments are exceptional, but the stitchwork doesn’t show this skill level. If you could fix them for me, I’ll never be on another worst dressed list.”
“Wilfred Iwona?” I choke on my words instead of stuttering them. “You’re go-going to Wilfred Iwona’s invitation-only boutique?”
“Uh-huh,” Veronika answers, clearly impressed I know who she is referencing. “And you could be there right with me if you say yes.”
I nod before considering the consequences of my actions. Then I shift it to a headshake.
“I can’t. I have to work.”
The unnamed brunette’s interests are as piqued as Veronika’s impeccably manicured brow. “Making more custom pieces?”
“Ah. No. I?—”
“Will be there with bells on.”
Veronika claps, missing the scald I hit Rafael with from acting as if he is my boss.
“I can’t go with her. I can’t mi-miss more days of work,” I whisper to Rafael when he guides me away from Veronika and her equally attractive friend.
“Then I guess it is lucky doing anything I ask is now a part of your job description.”
Huh?
He waves at two blondes eyeballing him from the other side of the den before lowering his eyes to me. They’re full of mischievousness but, somehow, still friendly. “Ark hired you to service his apartment permanently until he returns to Moscow later in the year.”
Excitement scuttles through my veins.
They’re overrun by disappointment only seconds later.
It isn’t solely the knowledge Ark has no intention of making Myasnikov his home that has me floundering. I am wondering if his company has a strict nonfraternization policy like the one that the maintenance and cleaning department in the Chrysler building undertakes.
Our kiss was so blistering that my lovesick heart is hopeful of a second chance to seduce him.
Shock that a nonfraternization policy shouldn’t be seen as a negative when contemplating a job offer scarcely registers when Rafael ensures there’s no possibility I can turn down the opportunity. “The pay is double your current rate, and the four days on, three days off roster is during school hours.”
It sounds too good to be true, which can only mean one thing—it is.
“I—” I choke on my reply for the second time when the man offering me an opportunity I never anticipated enters the den from the opposite side.
Ark smiles at me like I’m welcome in his space, and it instantly facilitates my worries that most nursery rhymes are based on heinous acts.