CHAPTER NINETEEN
ALLISON
But kisses can only keep worries away for so long, and the numbness seeps forward again as the days pass with little fanfare.
Mathias and his brothers jet from the study to the security room to a large area converted into conference space for Blackthorn meetings. All very routine and boring, considering their ruthless reputations.
While I do nothing.
I don’t have a job anymore. My time isn’t monopolized by staying afloat while Bailey and my family try to drown me with their problems.
I need a purpose.
Who am I without the manacles of others clasped around me?
While ambling through the Blackchapel gardens, I've been asking myself that question for the last quarter of an hour with little to show for it. Except for my love of musicals as the question follows the tune of Jean Valjean's decree in Les Miserables .
Who am I?
If only it were as easy as shouting, “24601!”
The crunch of gravel interrupts my musings, then the familiar rasp of Mathias’s voice snaps the quiet solitude.
“I’ve been looking for you.”
Pausing my journey through the dormant rose bushes, I shrug, keeping my back to him. “Here I am. Do you need something? Figured you’d be locked inside for another hour or two.”
“I needed a break and wanted to see you. Petit’s records were beginning to give me a headache.” His hand reaches for mine. “Where are your gloves? You’re freezing.”
“I’m fine.” I pull free, a chill chasing his brief warmth away, but the weather isn't to blame for my numbness. “The garden will bloom soon. It’s hard to believe spring is so close.”
“It’s not here yet,” he says, recapturing my fingers before they trail over another empty stem of thorns. “Is something wrong? You were subdued at lunch, and now you’re wandering outside like a ghost.”
A half-hearted “Boo!” tumbles free at the comparison. Glancing back at the manor, the imposing brick stands stalwart in the late afternoon light, a web of vines forming nature’s armor. The window to our room reflects the sun. Shunning its bright rays. The perfect home for a lost spirit.
Is something wrong?
Where should I begin?
“What am I doing here, Mathias?”
His jaw clenches, and the lines around his silver eyes deepen. “What do you mean? You’re here to live free of the people who have mistreated you for years.”
A bitter laugh bubbles up. “That’s all well and good, except it’s not a true answer. It’s not a future. There’s nothing for me to do here. I can’t while away the rest of my life haunting this manor. I need more.”
And god, do I feel greedy voicing the desire. Why isn't it enough that I'm safe and never need to worry about money again?
Maybe spending so much time with Mathias and his brothers—men who have a true purpose—has rubbed off on me.
Or maybe lazing around the manor reminds me too much of Bailey, and I don't want to be anything like her.
Mathias studies my desperate expression, a calculated look transforming his features. Stepping closer, he recaptures my hand and gently breathes a stream of warm air over my chilled skin.
“Why don’t I take you to Polina’s Place?” he asks with cautious optimism. “It’s a safe house for women and children of domestic violence. One that’s funded by Dmitri and Aleksei. You can meet the house manager, Jessie, and discuss volunteer opportunities. Or she can share what it’s like running a non-profit organization if you think you‘d like to start one.”
“Start one?” The suggestion is so out of the blue I almost laugh again, but based on his sober visage, he's serious.
Mathias guides our steps back to the manor. “How many times have I said that you can do anything you want? You have two million dollars and more if you need it.” He stops long enough to cup my icy cheek. He was right earlier; I am freezing.
“I know you’ve never had the luxury of time or money to discover what it is you need versus what everyone else requires. You’ve been getting by, surviving, but that’s over now, Allie. You have options. Freedom. Use it.”
Freedom.
Options.
Isn't that what I've always wanted?
But choice comes with risks. For so long, I've been pummeled by the waves of life. Fighting to stay above water as one problem after another battered my flailing limbs.
Life has happened to me.
I've rarely taken the opportunity to influence it. To be an active participant. That's the consequence of allowing other people to command my attention. For focusing on helping them improve their lives versus prioritizing mine.
Maybe Mathias's suggestion won't be the right fit. Or maybe it'll inspire me in a certain direction. But I won't know until I make a decision.
Until I take another step forward and start living life on my own terms.
“I'd like to see Polina’s Place, if it's not too much trouble,” I say. The caveat softens my assertion, but it's still a win. A move in the right direction.
One more step.
***
Two hours later, Mathias leaves me with Jessie, a peppy young woman, who outlines how Polina’s Place runs.
“We’re equipped to care for fifteen women and children at this location, but there’s a larger apartment-type building downtown where we can take in more. This home is for those that need a little extra care and distance from crowds.” She waves a hand to encapsulate the stately Victorian home on several acres of land.
A world away from the bustling city, it's easy to see why this little slice of heaven would feel safer for the most vulnerable residents.
“Mathias said you’d like to volunteer. What sort of talents do you have? We try to match tasks to volunteer strengths.”
Shit. My day job skills are the only things I can think to offer, my mind totally blanking on what talents I possess. I'm not a hobbyist who gathers a variety of expertise in her spare time. I'm a homebody who reads or binges TV to escape reality.
If they need someone to watch The Mentalist and swoon over Simon Baker with, then I'm their girl. Otherwise? I feel pretty useless.
“I’m a graphic designer. My job was to handle the marketing materials for my last company.”
“Excellent!” Jessie claps her hands in excitement as our tour comes to an end at the front of the house.
Mathias waits on the wraparound porch with the head of our security detail, Nathaniel. He’s the stoic type—quiet and alert, always searching for danger.
“Why don’t we go to my office, and we can discuss what’s coming up event-wise and have you work your magic?”
“I can't guarantee magic,” I joke, “But I'm happy to do whatever I can.”
My natural tendencies lead me to help others, and Polina’s Place is full of women and children who deserve it. They’re not selfish or greedy. They don’t want to use me rather than put in the work themselves like Bailey or my family.
They won't distort my instinct to help into its most toxic form.
This is a good place.
A good first step to figuring out who I want to be.
A good first step toward building a life in Boston… with Mathias .