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One of us already has.
Luna is falling in love with me.
Every time I look at her, the thought rings through my head. I can’t get rid of it.
But it doesn’t mean anything. We aren’t dominos. She may have fallen, but she doesn’t get to take me down with her.
40
LUNA
I’m in the library when the front door opens.
My heart leaps into my throat the way it always does when I know I’m about to see Yakov. But it’s a very different voice at the door.
“… say you done your duty, don’t you think?” Mariya asks someone I can’t see. “Following me around the mall is one thing, but following me up to my room might land you on some kind of predator watchlist. Better safe than pedo.” The front door slams closed and she curses under her breath. “Welcome home, Mariya. Big Brother is always watching.”
Sinking into the chair and hiding is an appealing option. My attempt to be friendly with Mariya this morning didn’t exactly go well.
Then I remember how Yakov looked when he walked into the kitchen. The dark circles under his eyes, the strain in his voice. If there’s anything I can do to help him out where Mariya is concerned, I should try.
When she walks by the door with countless shopping bags hanging from her arms, I sit up. “Did you have fun shopping?”
Mariya whirls towards me and arches a brow. “It wasn’t for fun. I needed to buy some necessities since I’ll be staying here a while.”
“Good thinking.”
She steps into the doorway. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone in here. I thought it was for decoration.”
“I like to read.”
Her smile looks more like a wince. “How fun for you.”
The way she can be mean even when she’s being nice is honestly a superpower. Has Yakov considered using Mariya as a weapon against whoever is after me? A short conversation with her and they’d probably back down and cry.
I toss my book to the side and stand up. “It is, but I’m getting stiff. Do you need help with your bags?”
“Nah.”
She walks past the door, but I rush after her. Someone with shame would give up, but I grab a couple pink bags dangling from her finger. “I insist. I haven’t been shopping in so long. I’d love to see what you bought.”
Mariya looks me over from head to toe like she’s trying to decide how easy it would be to get rid of me. Finally, she sighs. “Okay.”
I’ll take the minor victory.
Her room is down the hall from Yakov’s, but I’ve never seen it. It was one of the many locked doors in the house when I first arrived. I imagined dank cells with bars on the windows or torture chambers with shackles hanging from the walls.
Instead, it has a four-poster bed, velvet purple curtains, and butterfly wallpaper.
“This is adorable.” I spin in a circle, taking it all in. “I would have killed for this room as a kid.”
Mariya snorts. “I didn’t even like this room when I was a kid. My mom picked it out. I’m going to redecorate soon.”
“Everything? Even the wallpaper?”
She gives me a look that tells me she’d burn each individual butterfly if she could. “I’m not a little girl anymore.”
To make that fact even more crystal clear, Mariya grabs one of the pink bags I’m holding and dumps it across her purple bedspread. Lace and silk and flashes of black and pink tumble across the comforter.
