There is no apology in it. No shame either. Only a calm, infuriating sort of confidence, as if he knows perfectly well I’m inno state to stop my daughter from dragging him out of the room like a prize she has decided to keep.
And because I’m still standing there trying not to think about my missing underwear, I do not stop her.
Sofia pulls him toward the door. “Come on. You have to hide properly this time.”
Roman lets himself be led away.
I watch them go with the strange, unsteady feeling of someone losing her mind in stages.
A man like him should not look natural with a four-year-old hanging off his hand.
And yet he does.
The corridor feels too bright when I finally step into it. I manage three whole breaths before I hear heels clicking toward me.
Vika. Of course.
She turns the corner, sees me, and slows. Her eyes flick over my face too quickly, too sharply.
Then she says, “I heard someone playing off-key. Must have been your spawn.”
The blood drains from my face. That was me, on the piano. I hadn’t realized I was pressing down on the keys so hard.
I say nothing because I do not trust my voice.
Vika mistakes the silence for irritation and smiles faintly, pleased with herself.
“Where is Roman?” she asks. “I’ve had lunch moved to the lawn.”
I blink at her. “Lunch?”
“Yes. Since he bothered to come, someone should entertain him properly.”
Of course she did.
Of course, while I was upstairs being ruined on a piano, Vika was reorganizing table settings and imagining herself charming him in sunlight.
I keep my expression blank through sheer force of will.
“He isn’t with you?”
I make myself answer. “Sofia took him.”
Vika’s brows lift. “Your daughter?”
“Yes.”
“How funny.” She says it the way women like her always say funny, meaning inconvenient. “Where?”
I force a shrug. “Somewhere in the house. She said she wanted to play.”
Vika rolls her eyes. “I’ll bring him back.”
She turns and walks off before I can answer, and I stand there for a moment with one hand braced on the wall, letting the wave of relief and humiliation and absurdity wash over me. I take off after her.
It takes longer than I expect.
The house is too large for hide-and-seek and too full of corners where a clever little girl and a man humoring her could disappear. I check the conservatory first, then the library, then the small drawing room near the back stairs. No sign of either of them.
