I’m about to open a second link just to double check when my father’s caller ID flashes on the screen. I quickly about the link as I fumble with my phone and rush to answer my phone.
“Hi,papochka,”I answer, trying to sound as awake and sober as possible.
“Privet, lyubimaya dochka,”my father, Yulian Fillipovich Shabalin, answers fondly.
In public and around the other families my father puts on a great show of being stern and unemotional with me. But behind closed doors? I am his favorite daughter, and in truth, he’s coddled my sister, Valya, and me since our births.
I roll my eyes at his words, smiling as I drag myself out of the comfy bed.
“You know you’re not supposed to say I’m your favorite daughter, right?” I tease.
“That is new world theory,” my father replies, “You know me. I am old fashioned. And I’m allowed to have favorites. Just don’t tell Valya.”
I giggle then say, “Your secret’s safe with me,papochka.”
“That’s my girl,” Yulian praises. “So how was your sleepover with Katerina? Did you girls have fun in the suite?”
Even though I know he can’t see it, I blush at the question. It's not often I lie to my father. He is a mafia boss after all. But even though I’m a 24-year-old adult, I know he would have never let me go out drinking alone.
“Yeah, we did,” I reply, feeling another bout of guilt as I lie yet again. “She’s still asleep though. When she wakes up we’re going to order some room service, and then I’ll be home.”
“Oh, no,” my father replies, suddenly sounding serious, “I don’t think you’ll have time for that,doch.That’s why I called. Do you know what time it is?”
I pull my phone away from my ear to look at the time, and nearly jump out of my skin as I see it’s 1:10 p.m. I was supposed to meet my father and Valya at the designer’s dress shop ten minutes ago. They’d had the design for my wedding dress submitted a month ago, and today was to be my first fitting.
“Papa, I’m so sorry!” I exclaim, moving quickly to my suitcase. “I’ll be there as soon as I can!”
“Take your time,” Yulian replies calmly, “This is why we pay so much, so we can have a little flexibility.”
I hurriedly get off the phone with my father and fly into the bathroom. I rush through a shower as I thoroughly brush my teeth with one hand and scrub my body and face with the other. After quickly toweling off I dress in a modest outfit of beige slacks, a white short-sleeved designer blouse, some modest yet elegant gold jewelry and a pair of white heels.
I twirl my long hair into a low bun and to my clear complected face, add a touch of bronzer to my cheekbones, upper forehead and under my neck. I finish the look off with a flick of mascara to my lashes and then a touch of nude gloss to my lips. In under fifteen minutes I’m packed again and am racing to the elevator with my suitcase.
“Dobryy den', Miss Annika,” A familiar voice greets me as I step off.
Wincing, I force a smile as I look up and see Viktor, my father’s most trusted friend and bodyguard.
“Dobryy den’,Viktor,” I reply sweetly.
The fifty-year-old Russian protector bows his head in respect, then reaches for the handle of my suitcase.
“Your father sent me over so you wouldn’t have to worry about getting a cab,” Viktor explains.
He gives me a calm, steady look. Someone who didn’t know him would think that man had little to no awareness of a person’s most inner secrets, but I know better. The man was a human lie detector…among other things.
“Will we be waiting for your friend to come down?” he asks.
“No,” I lie, even though I know it’s no use, “She’s still sleeping. She can get herself home.”
A touch of a smile lifts Viktor’s lips, and he nods. He waves a hand toward the rotating doors, and we stroll together through the lobby.
“Very good, Miss Annika,” he replies smoothly, and I’m grateful he lets the lie go.
There is a large, double shot flat white and a warm chocolate croissant waiting for me in the back of the blacked out town car.
“Your father told me you were planning to order room service before he called,” Viktor says, sliding into the driver’s seat. “So I took the liberty of getting you some breakfast since you had to miss out.”
My stomach rumbles loudly, and I’m grateful for Viktor’s perceptiveness.
