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He slid behind the wheel and fired up the engine. The car sped off toward the south, toward Vegas. Mikhail was so angry, but trying to hide the layer of pride underneath. The truth was that Annika had impressed him. She had also pissed him way the fuck off, but there was no denying she played her cards pretty damn well. If she hadn’t appeared at that exact moment to lend credence to his lie, the situation might’ve gone differently.
“Please don’t be mad at me,” Annika pleaded softly.
Mikhail sighed as he looked over at her. The girl’s green eyes were huge and remorseful. She was so beautiful and so sweet that Mikhail felt the rage inside of him melt. But he had to maintain a stern hand with her. That was too close of a call back there. He realized now there was no point trying to keep her safely cooped up in bubble wrap. Annika was no wilting flower. She didn’t want to be left out. She wanted to help, to be a part of things. He couldn’t hide her away forever. No, he just had to make sure she was ready next time.
“Look, if you want a piece of the action so badly, I have a mission for you,” Mikhail said.
“Really? You have something for me to do?” she perked up hopefully.
“Actually, I have somethingonlyyou can do,” he answered.
CHAPTER14
ANNIKA
On the morningof the sixth of July, Annika woke in the soft light of dawn to see her lover had left the bed. She scooted into the still-warm spot left by his body and looked across the room. Mikhail was at the window, looking out over the city at sunrise. There was a serious, introspective look on his handsome face. His hands clenched now and then at his sides, and she saw a tiny muscle clenching in his jaw. He was deep in concentration, and whatever he was thinking about, it seemed to concern him. Annika quietly rose and walked to his side, leaning gently against him. Mikhail’s demeanor shifted as soon as she touched him. He slid an arm around her shoulders and squeezed. He kissed the top of her head. But when he pulled back, that worried look was still on his face.
“Today’s the day,” he told her. “Are you ready?”
Annika nodded. The plan had been nine days in the making, or at least, that was how long she’d known about it. She and Mikhail had run through countless possible scenarios. They discussed the things she was supposed to keep to herself, and which little tidbits of information she could offer up to assuage any suspicions that may arise.
“I’m trusting you with this, Annika,” Mikhail said.
“I can handle it,” she replied.
“I am sending you straight back into the arms of your bastard father. Right back to that den of snakes, who will try to poison you against me, against us,” he growled, turning away.
“You don’t have to worry. It’s not like I’m going to run off again,” she assured him. “Besides, why would my father turn me against you? He’s the one who arranged our engagement, remember? He’s counting on it.”
“Myfather suggested our engagement, actually. Egor was just smart enough not to defy the great Vasili Sokolov. But there’s not a truthful or faithful bone in his body,” said Mikhail. “He could backpedal on our deal at any time.”
“Well, he’d have to do it against my will,” said Annika strongly. “I’m not the naïve little girl he thinks I am anymore. I have my own desires. I make my own decisions.”
Mikhail smiled, though his eyes remained stony. He cupped her face in his large hands.
“Don’t cause a scene. Just play your part, collect your information, and report back to me safely when it’s over, okay?” he impressed upon her.
They had spentthe day going over their plans and preparing for the mission that night. Now, it was half past five in the evening, and Annika stood on the marble front steps of her childhood home, Baranov Manor. The massive house loomed over her and made her feel tiny and insignificant. That was pretty fitting, she thought, considering that was how she felt growing up there. Even if the house itself wasn’t intimidating, the residents inside definitely were. She felt a lurch of dread as she took out the shiny, gilded invitation addressed to her. It was a formal invite to an old-fashioned family dinner, like Annika sat through every single Wednesday night of her adolescence. Back then, it was routine, but now… it was a mission.
Annika was nervous in a good way and a bad way. On the one hand, she was excited to play out this mission assigned to her by Mikhail. She was here to surreptitiously gather intel and report back to him when he picked her up later that night. Annika was proud to be trusted with the job, especially since from Mikhail’s point of view, it was like sending her back to the only people who had a real chance of keeping her from him. She was eager to prove herself to him, and this mission seemed like an easy slam dunk to her. Besides, there was a tiny fraction of her heart that missed her parents and was happy to see them again, even under odd circumstances. She was meant to make note of anything weird that happened or anything suspicious one of them might say. Annika didn’t expect much. Family dinners were usually pretty uneventful, and she saw no reason why this one wouldn’t be the same.
Still, though, she felt a bit apprehensive. She hadn’t seen her mother since their miserable appointment at the bridal boutique and hadn’t seen her father since she ran away to California. It was sure to be a little awkward at the dinner table that night. Annika lifted her hand and reluctantly rang the doorbell. She heard it chime throughout the house, and the click-click of heels across the floor. A young maid with frazzled hair and half-foggy glasses opened the door. She immediately started curtsying at the sight of Annika.
“Miss Baranov,” the maid greeted. “What a delight to meet you.”
“Same to you—oh, you don’t have to do that,” Annika told her. The young maid abruptly stopped mid-curtsy. The poor thing looked back over her shoulder like she expected someone to scold her instantly.
“My apologies, Miss,” she mumbled.
“No, no. You’re fine,” Annika assured her with a smile. “Can I…?”
“Yes, yes! Of course!” the maid exclaimed, ushering Annika inside. “The chef is putting her finishing touches on the meal. Your mother is in the parlor taking a phone conversation, and I believe your father is upstairs in his study. You’re welcome to wait in the foyer or wander as you please. It’s your house, after all. Dinner will be served momentarily. Is there anything I can do for you in the meantime, Miss?”
Annika shook her head. “I’m alright. Thank you.”
She was about to politely ask the young maid’s name when they heard Yulia bellow across the house: “KRISTEN! WHERE IS MY PINK DIAMOND BRACELET?”
The maid flinched and scurried off. Now alone, Annika slowly wandered through the halls and stately rooms of her childhood home. The place seemed even more desolate and cold than she remembered it. There were decorations everywhere: paintings of stern-looking men and frivolous women in big skirts, mounted animal heads, chiseled statues, dark tapestries, and countless shiny trinkets. But there were almost no real personal effects. No awkward school photos of Annika smiling with a tooth missing on the mantel. No markings of her height on the wall. No hint that any child had ever lived there, except for the ballet trophies and certificates probably piled up in her old bedroom closet.
