AllFreeNovel
Share Us
He’s speaking in English, which is unusual for him as all of his associates speak fluent Russian. The only person who doesn’t is his poor wife, purchased from Sweden as an ornament to be worn as a status symbol.
I’m only able to understand every other word of Remi’s garbled English, a symptom of immigration later in his life than myself. His accent gets harder to understand as he grows annoyed with the person on the other end of the line, causing me to strain in order to process anything he’s saying.
The only repeating words I can properly make out are “Mika”, “wedding”, and “partnership”. Without the ability to extract any context from the conversation, I’m unable to make a proper assessment as to what he’s talking about at all.
What do these things have to do with each other?
Mika snaps at me impatiently as she waits for me by the door. “Um, hi, I can’t leave the house without an escort. That means you need to open the door for me. Are you even listening to me?” she says, the remnants of her teenage angst bleeding through.
I withdraw myself from the conversation, choosing to ignore it and chalk it up to a series of unrelated topics that have nothing to do with me.
I know it’ll bother me, but it makes no sense to dwell on it.
“Okay, right, sorry,” I mutter as I open the front door for her.
She scoffs at me as she exits the house, swaying her hips the same way she always does. As she walks away from me, I notice the lower portion of her ass peeking out through her skirt. The movement of her hips as she walks emphasizes how little coverage her skirt is providing. Surely, she knows this. How can she not feel it?
The sweater she’s wearing is so thin that it clings to her breasts like a swimsuit top. Even though it’s unseasonably cold for this time of year, she’s wearing hardly anything at all. The wind has been blowing harder than usual lately, and I’d be shocked if she didn’t look up the weather predictions before she chose her outfit. Nothing about her is making sense to me the longer I get to know her. She still confuses me more and more each day.
What’s her angle? She already knows she’s an attractive young woman, there’s no denying that. She doesn’t move like an insecure, anxious girl, but the way she’s dressed projects a desire to be noticed.
Remi is allowing me to drive one of his less expensive vehicles, a BMW, around town, as I escort his daughter wherever she wants to go. It feels strange to pretend to be wealthy. Driving this car, being given an exorbitant amount of cash to shop with, spending all of my time in this mansion. It’s all so foreign to me, and I still don’t feel as if I play the role well enough.
Mika is sitting with her arms crossed in the back seat, brooding and unimpressed as cold rain begins to fall outside. “Nobody told me it was going to rain today. I would have worn my other shoes.”
“I’m certain you have more shoes in your closet than some people have dollars in their bank accounts,” I reply, stopping at a red light as a group of tourists hobbles slowly across the street.
“You might want to rethink the way that you talk to me. Remember who’s paying you to be here. He’ll have you flayed alive if he feels like you’re disrespecting me,” she warns, taking a tube of subtle pink lipstick out of her purse and reapplying it for the fourth time.
She might not be as inconspicuous about it as she thinks she is, but a lesser man wouldn’t notice her manipulations nearly as easily. Drawing attention to her assets, including her lips, puts thoughts in my head that I’d be better off ignoring.
“Oh, it’s this one,” she says suddenly, tapping on her window to indicate that we’ve arrived at our first destination.
It’s an upscale coffee shop on the rich side of town, a conclusion that surprises nobody at all. I’d love to see Mika’s face after she tasted a latte from one of the cafes in my old neighborhood. They’re delicious, but without the seventy percent markup, she would rather be poisoned than drink one.
We walk inside, and she orders something needlessly complicated, consisting mostly of sugar syrup and chocolate sprinkles. I would be shocked if any government would allow such a concoction to be legally sold as coffee, but if it makes her feel like an adult, so be it.
“We should sit outside,” Mika suggests after scanning the shop for an acceptable place to sit. There are multiple tables open, even a cozy spot with couches by a fireplace that remains unoccupied.
“What about the place you and your old bodyguard used to sit? It’s cold as hell outside today. Weren’t you just complaining about the rain getting on your shoes?” I ask, grasping for any logic or reasoning for her sudden change of heart.
“I’ve already walked in the rain, so it doesn’t matter if my shoes get wet anymore. I can just replace them when we go to the mall,” she replies, resting her weight on one hip and glancing around at the other snotty elites who occupy the shop.
I almost roll my eyes, hesitating in order to keep her from interpreting disrespect from me. How can anybody respect her if this is the way she acts and treats people? I wouldn’t be surprised if Remi had a secret cellar full of unfortunate cashiers and classmates who dared to look at Mika the wrong way.
“Okay, fine. We’ll go outside,” I relent. Fortunately, I wore a proper coat, but I’m curious to see how long Mika can keep up her act in that outfit before she’s begging to come back inside.
Most of the tables outside are empty, as anyone could have predicted, and she chooses one underneath the awning. At least she hassomesense about her. Now I don’t need to get rained on for her amusement.
She sips her coffee while scrolling on her phone, engaging with whatever mind-numbing media that girls are currently obsessing over. For now, I’m grateful that she isn’t interested in talking to me, because I’m certain there are topics all over the internet that she could talk about incessantly. I decide to take this moment of silence as a brief reprieve from being her indentured servant.
After about twenty minutes of watching people jog, have fights, and kiss, I hear someone honking their car horn over and over. I turn my head to see what the issue is, realizing that the situation is just outside my vision.
While it’s probably not important for me to know what’s going on, I’ve always taken an interest in watching people have public freakouts, so I stand up out of my chair to get a better look at what’s going on.
As soon as I’m up, Mika throws her chair back and sprints down the sidewalk.
Even though my reflexes are better than average, I’m not able to catch her. She weaves through the crowds of people emerging from their jobs as the lunch hour approaches, and I’m unable to follow close behind. It only takes a few minutes before she’s gone out of my sight, and my stomach sinks to the ground.
