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“I would ask for your birth certificate,” I state.
She laughs softly, then clears her throat. “Eighteen.” She looks eighteen, but I’ll probably still ask Rostam for some identification. I don’t employ underage women.
“Send in the next one,” I call out.
The interviews continue. None of them are virgins, all lost their virginity in some way which made them undesirable for a match. All of them just want their freedom and I realize that this group, these women, these are nothing like Russian women.
And Rostam fucking lied. He claimed he had two virgins for me. I don’t trust anything about this man, nothing at all. In fact, I’m ready to end the motherfucker on the spot.
Polina comes and takes them away as I ask for Edom and Rostam to come back into my office. Rostam has a smile on his face, he’s happy as can be that all five of the women were accepted. We’ll see how well they do with Polina. Passing her tests are the true testaments.
“Virginity is important to your group?” I ask.
“Pure wives, pure children, pure heaven.”
I almost laugh, but I decide against it. This is how he feels. “So you’ve made a deal with them. They come here and you give them freedom from your organization?”
He clears his throat, nodding his head. “Women who are weak do not belong in the organization anyway.”
“So you’ll be sending us the women you deem as damaged?” I ask.
“The ones who want to come.”
“And you’ll make nothing from them?”
“Correction,” he says. “It saves me money. If I put them to work in other men’s houses, I have to pay their room and board, I have to worry about them getting knocked up and then paying for medical bills. This saves me a fuckload of money and headaches.”
Nodding my head slowly, I clear my throat. “It saves you money, it makes me money.”
“And this goes well, Osip will do other deals with me. Which is really the endgame here for me.”
I don’t think that any of this can last, Rostam will be wanting more. He’ll want compensation for these women. He’ll want more from Osip, he’ll want more and more and more. It’s what men want. It’s what I would want.
ISABEL
Zinaida gives me a small smile.We’re at a store and I’m holding up a pair of high heels. She doesn’t tell me she hates them, but I can tell by the look on her face that she does. We’ve also been shopping all morning. It’s lunchtime and I’m delirious.
“Why don’t we eat?” I ask. “I think we’ve done enough damage for the day.”
She stands slowly from the chair in the store and lets out a sigh. “You have so much to get. Starting completely over is such a nightmare.”
“It’s worth the nightmare,” I say. “Every second.”
She smiles, reaching out for my hand and takes it, squeezing gently. “It is, isn’t it?”
I hum. Together, with Zinaida’s guard, we make our way out of the building and head toward the parking lot. Something is off though. I can’t quite put my finger on it. I don’t know if it’s just something in the air, my own nerves, or something is really wrong.
Turning my head, I open my mouth to ask Zinaida where she wants to go when I see them. They are coming up fast. I expected Donya and Maryam, maybe, but I don’t expect one of Rostam’s wives, the first wife, to come charging toward us.
“Take her,” I shout to Zinaida’s guard as I try to gently shove her into his arms.
Zinaida cries out, trying to stop me from putting myself between her and the woman who is just a few feet away with a knife in her hand.
“Go back to your husband,” I warn.
She shakes her head, her gaze finding mine, holding mine. “You did this. You and your people did this to my baby daughter,” she screams.
“Did what?” I ask.
