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Ithink I might have made a terrible mistake.
As I walk up the stairs to my apartment, hours before I’m supposed to meet Mikhail for our date, my heart is racing until I feel dizzy.What was I thinking?
That feeling is only compounded when I see a long box, white matte with a silvery bow wrapped around it, sitting on my doorstep.
I can’t believe it wasn’t fucking stolen.This is hardly the kind of place to leave an expensive-looking delivery, which means it can’t have been here for more than a few minutes. I glance around nervously as I pick it up, half expecting someone to jump out of the shadows and grab me while I’m distracted. It’s hard enough to unlock the multiple locks on my door while holding it, but I don’t dare unlock my door first and leave it that way while I pick up the package. I can easily envision someone coming up behind me and following me into the unlocked apartment before I can stop them.
You’re paranoid, Natalia.
I have every reason to be.
I quickly step into the apartment, setting the box down and relatching every single one of the locks with a pounding heart. This is very different from the other “gifts” that have been left for me, and my imagination is running wild with the worst things it could be.
I set the box on my kitchen table, ignoring the way it shifts on the shorter fourth leg as I reach for the bow with shaky hands. I expect it to be something terrible–a dead animal, maybe, or something more threatening. When I finally work up the courage to lift the lid, all I see is smooth tissue paper, the same silvery sheen as the bow that was wrapped around it.
What the hell?My hands tremble above it, anxiety flooding me. I’m afraid of pulling the tissue paper back, the irrational fear that something will jump out at me, making me feel shaky and unsteady. I take a deep breath, sucking in air, trying to steady myself.You can’t be afraid of a box and some paper, Natalia. You’re tougher than that.
I reach out quickly, yanking the paper back–and stare down at what’s nestled there in the box.
It’s a dress. Laid out on silvery paper, made of sleek, soft sapphire silk. I reach for it, my fingers brushing down the length of the fabric. It reminds me of something I would have worn before all of this, something I would have chosen for myself for some after-party or charity gala. My heart skips in my chest, wondering who would have sent this to me.Who could have chosen something like this?
I pick it up, lifting it out of the box and letting the fabric ripple down. It’s a longer dress than I would have expected, falling toankle length. It splits up both sides, the deep-cut bodice held up by thin straps, and I know just by looking at it that it will fit me–probably perfectly.
Glancing down, I see that’s not all that was in the box. There’s a smaller, black matte box and a longer one at the end, all of them nestled inside like a Russian nesting doll. The irony doesn’t escape me as I scoop the other two boxes out, carrying them and the dress to my bedroom.
I lay the blue dress on my bed, setting the other boxes down. I reach for the long, thin one first, lifting the lid more quickly this time, not expecting some gruesome thing to frighten me.The dress could have just been to get your defenses down,I caution myself, but I’m too curious now to be as cautious as I was before.
It’s a pair of shoes. Fine, expensive, and delicate, nude leather and thin spiked heels with straps so slight that the shoes will barely cling to my feet. I feel a moment’s hesitation about wearing them–open-toed shoes are the bane of a former ballerina–but they’re so beautiful that it’s impossible not to want to put them on. I glance at the size–it’s exactly mine.
A shudder ripples down my spine, and I drop them into the box, feeling a cold knot tighten in my belly.How does whoever sent this know? How does he know my shoe size? Whatisthis?
I have a suspicion as to what the last box will be before I even open it, and I’m right. Inside are a pair of drop earrings, a series of sapphires the same color as the dress falling down in a strip of sparkling gemstones, set in what looks to be white gold.
Who could have sent all of this?Any of the items alone are expensive, I can tell that much, but all together, they must have cost a fortune. I set the earrings aside, pawing through the tissuepaper in the large box, looking for a note or a card that might tell me.
I find it at the very bottom, tucked away in a spot where I might have missed it if I hadn’t been looking. It’s printed on thick card stock, and the black script gives me my answer the moment I look at it.
I know these will be beautiful on you.
Looking forward to our date.
Mikhail
Fuck. I sit down heavily on the edge of the bed, my heart beating faster now. I’m on the verge of canceling the date altogether, the gifts striking a chord of terror in me instead of the elation that I’m sure he expected.My dress size. My shoe size. What explanation is there for this?
I try to breathe, recalling the conversation I had with Ruby in my dressing room after I left the champagne room with Mikhail’s offer of a paid date. I’d been panicking, angry with myself for agreeing, trying to think of a way out without losing him as a customer altogether. I explained what had happened to Ruby, breathless with fear and regret, and she laughed.
“I’m sorry, I’m not laughing atyou,” she said. “It’s just–this is agoodthing! You’ve got a whale on the hook, just like me. My date went fuckingfantastic. He wants to see me again. He’s paying me the kind of money we’d never see in this place, not usually. If this man has that kind of money–and it keeps looking as if he does–fucking take advantage of this, girl! Don’t let him get bored or offend him, and let some other girl get her claws in him.”
“So this is normal?” I had to lock my fingers together in front of me to stop myself from chewing on my nails, an old bad habit that I thought I’d broken years ago. “You don’t think this is weird? Suspicious? That agreeing might be dangerous?”
Ruby shrugged. “I mean–there’s always a chance that men like this might be dangerous. But you’ve been in his car once before, alone. If he wanted to hurt you, that would have been an easy opportunity.” She let out a long breath, giving me a comforting smile. “There’s always an element of risk. I don’t want to tell you otherwise. But this is a good opportunity. And yes, it’s normal. Men like that–men with money, they have egos, too. It makes them feel good to get you out of this club, this environment, into their own world where they feel like they have more power. They can buy your time and forget for a little while that they purchased it. The fact that he negotiated forjustyour time right off the bat–that’s a good sign.”
I swallow nervously, nodding. “I just–this is strange for me. I’ve never done this before. I didn’t think I would–”
“Growth.” Ruby nodded sagely, still grinning at me. “This is good! And you don’t have to accept a second date if this one goes badly, or if you feel like you’re getting a bad feeling. Get the money for this one, and then see how it goes! Take it one date at a time.” She laughed at her own bad pun. “And if you need anything, just ask me. I’m here for you. We’ve got each other’s backs.”
Now, staring down at the gifts from Mikhail, I wish I could call her and ask her to come over. I felt this sense of foreboding dread from the very start, a suspicion that this isn’t quite right, but Ruby had soothed that. She told me he was just a sugar daddy, just a rich man looking to pay for time with a woman who had caught his attention, who wanted the power of knowinghe can buy her time and take her out of the environment he found her in. She’d given me examples of men she’d gone out with, ones the other girls had similar arrangements with, and it had started to soothe those fears.You’re just afraid because this is strange,I told myself.Not because there’s anything really wrong. And she’s right; he had the chance to take advantage when you got into his car. He’s been a gentleman so far, in terms of not taking what wasn’t allowed.
