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“That’s all you want? I let you kill Pavel yourself and you’re in?” I ask.
“I’m in,” he confirms. “I offer up my men and my resources. Whatever you need, you’ve got it. As long as that little bastard dies by my hand.”
“And I’m in so long as that little bastard dies,” I say. “I don’t care whose hand does the deed.”
Dima smirks. “Then it looks like we’re in business, my friend.”
48
LUNA
Mariya told me to give it a week before her mother—Ofeliya, I’ve since learned—drove me crazy. That estimate seems conservative now.
It’s been one day and I’m losing my mind.
“Yakov should have chosen a room closer to the restroom.” Ofeliya takes my lunch tray off of my lap and hands it to Hope. I tried to go to the kitchen for lunch, but it was deemed too strenuous. “Nik doesn’t need to worry about a restroom since he has a catheter, but it’s a long way for you to walk.”
“I don’t mind walking,” I say quickly. Mostly because I think she might actually try to give me a catheter.
I thought Yakov was protective when I first got pregnant, but Ofeliya is taking it to an entirely different level.
“Sure, but we have to think about what’s best for the babies. Your joints and ligaments are loosening up for delivery by this point. One wrong step and you could blow out a hip.”
“Dr. Jenkins was just here this morning and he didn’t mention that as a concern.”
The only problem is still my stupid blood pressure. I didn’t tell Ofeliya about it, but she managed to find out, anyway. According to her, I need to start taking cold showers and eating dark chocolate. The medication isn’t touching my blood pressure, but surely her old wives’ tales are going to do the trick. Or so she thinks.
“Men don’t know the things a woman goes through when they’re pregnant,” she says dismissively. “They are clueless.”
I manage a polite smile. “He’s a doctor.”
“Still.” She waves it off and finishes loading up the tray in Hope’s arms. “Take this to the kitchen and refill Luna’s water.”
Hope nods, meeting my eyes briefly on her way out the door. She’s been in and out of my room all day, but I haven’t had a chance to talk to her once. Not with Yakov’s mom ordering her around.
Ofeliya is taking care of me—that’s nice, right? My own mother seemed relieved when I was finally old enough to take care of myself. She was never interested in the maternal aspects of being a mom. I should be grateful.
I am grateful, I decide. I’m going to do my best to appreciate Ofeliya’s obvious concern for me.
Suddenly, she lunges for the corner of the mattress, her face creased in worry. “Has anyone changed this out today?”
“My bed?”
“The sheets.” She runs her thumb over some mascara smeared in the bottom corner. “It’s dirty.”
I remember when that particular stain was made and my entire body flushes with embarrassment. Yakov was driving into me from behind and I had to bury my face in the bed to keep from waking the entire house.
“It’s fine. It’s nothing, actually. I don’t mind.”
“What do we pay these people for if not to take care of things like this?” She shakes her head. “I’ve been telling Yakov since I got here that he needs to restructure his staff. Before my husband was—When I lived here,” she says instead, “I kept the staff on a tight leash. If you don’t, nothing gets done. You know what they say: if you want something done well, do it yourself.”
I don’t see what that particular saying has to do with this situation since we’re literally talking about hiring people to help run the house. But I smile and nod anyway.
“After the two of you get married, it will be your job.” She delivers that little tidbit like a present. Like my life’s goal should be to manage the staff.. “I’ll teach you everything you need to know.”
I think I already know everything I need to know, actually. I know I don’t want to run my house the way Ofeliya did. What I don’t know is how to tell her that.
“I’m going to find Hope and have her bring in some new sheets,” Ofeliya announces, heading for the door. “Is there anything else you need?”
