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Olesya might want to help, but her eagerness is useless without some sort of influence or, barring that, skill. I picture her trying to slip me off in a getaway car, and the thought of it alone is laughably unrealistic.
I need someone smart, slick, and sneaky. A grin splits my face as the solution rises like cream to the top of fresh milk.
I know the perfect person for that.
Mila.
29
GALINA
DAYS LATER
Without Mila’s phone number, my only way of contacting her is to wait for her to show up at the mansion. It would be faster and more reliable to ask someone for her info, or ask them to reach out to her for me. But it’s risky. Everyone here works for Arsen, and I can’t risk him finding out what I’m up to.
He’d never approve.
In the meantime, I’m forced to tiptoe around my mother. When we spot each other in the hallways, we go in opposite directions. Her meals are taken in private. I saw Masha delivering a tray to her last night. She gives me an apologetic nod whenever I catch them walking out of her room. It’s no secret that my mother and I are at odds. Both of us are being as subtle as elephants.
Mom doesn’t want to be here, and I don’t know how to be around her without prying into what she’s hiding. But one thing is for sure. There’s no question she knows something about Yevgeniy.
Arsen isn’t much easier to be near lately either. He stalks around, glaring at nothing, clenching his jaw. He checks his phone constantly … taking calls at all hours. More than once he’s glanced at a message while we’re in the middle of sex. He won’t tell me what’s going on, but I’m not dumb. His mood is black because he’s no closer to reaching his goal of destroying Yevgeniy.
How can one man affect so many people?
Though I hate seeing Arsen on edge, I also have to be thankful. It’s because of his frustration that Mila shows up today. She strides through the front doors of the mansion like it belongs to her. Her ever-present motorcycle jacket adds bulk to her upper body. It makes the silhouette of her trim waist and round hips more prominent in her tight, faded jeans. I marvel at how she moves silently in those boots. The tread on the heel has the ragged shape of alligator teeth. They look like they must weigh a few pounds each.
I watch her from the landing of the stairs, wondering how I’m going to get her to agree to help me.
She speaks without looking up. “You know I can see you there.”
Cringing, I approach her with a shrug. She smiles as I get close. “I’m not as good at sneaking around as you are.”
“Well, don’t beat yourself up. I’m an expert.”
“Funny, that’s what I wanted to talk to you about.”
Mila arches her fine eyebrows. “Oh?”
Shooting a quick look around, I motion for her to follow me. She makes a curious face. Together we go to my room. I shut the door tight. “I need a favor.”
“Careful, Galina Stepanovna,” she replies. “Asking for favors in our world is never free.”
Lowering my voice, I lick my lips nervously. “There’s something I need to find out about. But I’m pretty sure the information is at my family’s dance studio. And I’m still not allowed to leave the mansion.”
“Ah,” she states bluntly. “You need me.”
“Yeah. It’s a lot to ask, but?—”
“Sure, I’ll help.”
I do a double take. “You will? Just like that?”
“I agree with Arsen on a lot of things. But locking you up is too far.” She says it with such conviction, like she speaks from experience. “Nobody should be a prisoner.”
“How will you get me out of the house without Arsen knowing?” I ask.
Mila sneers, crossing her arms over her chest as she struts toward my bedroom window. “Have some faith in me, Galina Stepanovna.”
