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The edge to her voice makes it almost impossible to hide my anxiety. I can read Mikhail fairly well by now, and I can see the tension in him too, the two of them facing off–except if he pisses her off, the worst she would do is storm off.
If she makes him too angry, he might kill her.
“Trust me,” Mikhail says, a warmth in his voice that I know is manufactured, “I was as shocked as you. I’ve been very lucky to have Natalia trust me so completely.”
I know that’s my cue. I step towards him, letting him slide his arm around my waist as I lean into him, looking at Ruby. Her eyes flick between us, and I can see that she’s not entirely buying it, not yet.
Mikhail squeezes me lightly, and then steps aside. “I’ll bring you ladies a bottle of wine while you catch up. I have to finish cooking.” He gestures to the couch. “Enjoy.”
I know better than to try to take Ruby on a tour of the house, too far away from Mikhail for him to listen in on our conversation or inject himself unexpectedly into it. I take the lead, sitting on the couch and burying my hands in my lap to hide their trembling as Ruby sits down next to me.
“So tell me what happened,” she says finally, after Mikhail brings the wine and I pour us each a glass. “The last time I saw you, I sent you home after Igor was found dead. And then you just–disappeared.”
I take a sip of the wine, trying to steady my nerves and gather my thoughts. “Well, I went on the date,” I tell her with a soft laugh. “It was nice. He took me to a cafe, and we talked for a while. It felt like he genuinely wanted to be there with me, like he wanted to make up for the fight we had after I showed up at his apartment out of the blue. He asked me to come back home with him–to spend the night.” I raise an eyebrow meaningfully, and Ruby laughs, taking a sip of her wine.
“Of course. Was it good? It must have been,” she says drily, looking at me pointedly. “You haven’t left since.”
“Well, I mean–we’veleft.To go out here and there. But yes…it was good. Incredible, really.”
That, at least, isn’t a lie. Regardless of what else is true between us, or what other adjectives could be used to describe it, sex with Mikhail has never been anything short of mind-blowing. It’s more pleasurable–and confusing–than anything I’ve ever experienced.
Or probably ever will again.
“Look, Natalia–” Ruby hesitates, taking another long sip of her wine. “Far be it from me to tell you to stop getting good dick. It’s hard enough to find without hitting the jackpot that clearly is this guy–rich and hot and good in bed? But there’s something–off here. I have decent intuition, I like to think.”
“But you thought he was okay before?” I hate saying it, hate even hinting that she could be in some way responsible for any of this, but I feel desperate. She’s not buying any of it, and I’m terrified that this will end with her not believing that I’m safe with Mikhail.She can’t be a loose end.
“For you to go out on a few paid dates with, sure.” Ruby tops off her glass of wine, looking at me shrewdly. “There’s a big difference between having a sugar daddy and moving in with a guy, saying you’ve fallen for him. You know that, Natalia. Iknowyou do. I’m not trying to badger you, I’m really not–but I hope you’d do the same for me, if the positions were switched.”
The worst part of it is that she’s right. Not just that I’m not telling her the truth, but that Iwoulddo the same. If Ruby had suddenly decided to shack up with some guy she’d met at the club, claiming she’d fallen in love with him, I would have looked at her with the same kind of suspicion. I would have done everything I could to make sure she really was safe and happy.
I’m not sure I would have cared if it put me in danger, either. Before Mikhail, I don’t think I really understood what danger truly meant. I’d thought I had, growing up around my father’s Bratva. I’d thought I knew what was out there.
I’d had no fucking idea.
“Of course I would,” I tell her as gently as I can, setting my glass aside for a moment. “But I’d hope that if you told me you really were happy, if I saw it with my own two eyes, I’d trust you. That I’d want you to be happy, even if I didn’t understand it.”
Ruby is quiet for a long moment, and I can see from her face that she’s struggling with something. “I do want you to be happy,” she says finally. “And I do trust you. But–I’m sorry. I’m just having such a hard time understanding why you’d do something so out of character.”
“You haven’t known me all that long, really,” I tell her, still as gently as I can manage. “You don’t know what my relationships were like before this. Maybe I’ve always been quick to fall for someone when I feel the spark.”
Ruby presses her lips tightly together. “Have you?” she asks finally, and I feel a cramp of nausea in my stomach. I hate lying to her.
“I haven’t always made the best relationship choices,” I say slowly, trying to tell as much of the truth as I can without making things worse. “And this might be another bad choice. But if it does go bad, I promise I’ll get out. Right now, I just want to enjoy how it feels. It’s been a long time since I felt happy.”
It’s such a jumble of truth and lies that even I’m not entirely sure how to untangle it. I see Ruby’s face soften slightly, and I hope that I’ve gotten through to her.
I hear Mikhail’s footsteps in the doorway, and it’s all I can do not to tense up as I hear his voice.
“Dinner is ready, ladies.”
Natalia
Ihave to hand it to him–he went all out for this. The dining room is back to the state it was in before he dragged everything out to force me to dance for him, and I try not to think about that afternoon, about the perfect happiness I’d felt twirling across the wood floor to the music before I’d come back down to earth, and he’d dragged me down to the basement.
It looks completely different like this, the table made up three place settings, candles in the center of it to light the room along with the chandelier above the table, a decanter of wine near the place settings, the food already dished up. As I walk in ahead of Ruby and sit down in the chair Mikhail pulls out for me, I see a cut of steak, grilled scallops, a mushroom risotto, and a bowl of Caesar salad ready to be spooned into bowls. The food smells delicious, better than anything I’ve had since the last date I was out on with Mikhail, and my stomach cramps hungrily as I watch Mikhail pull out a chair for Ruby as well before he takes his own seat.
It feels very much like a performance. I’m painfully aware of what’s at stake if anything goes wrong, if Ruby can’t be convinced, if I slip up, if Mikhail just decides he’s tired of the entire charade and would rather tie up the loose end quickly and easily–the thought of what could happen sends anxiety prickling along my skin until I feel sick with it.
