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“Really?”
Mikhail nods. The warmth in his eyes tells me he isn’t lying. “Really,kisa. And when it’s all over, I’ll bring you home personally.”
“There has to be a way I can help,” I say. “Please, I can be of use to you. Luka said he was going to look through traffic cams, right? I can do that, too. Just give me access to a strong enough CPU.”
“Aurora—”
“What if your mother doesn’t like me?” I ask, my guts tying themselves up into impossible knots. “Please, don’t leave me here, Mikhail.”
Tap. Tap. Tap.
I turn with a yelp to find Catherina standing just outside the car, her hand hovering over the glass. She taps her wrist, gesturing to an invisible watch. Her impatience is obvious.
“Come on,” Mikhail says gently before slipping out of the driver’s seat.
I have no choice but to follow.
Catherina’s home is an unwelcoming labyrinth, nothing but dark winding halls and sparsely decorated rooms. If it weren’t for Mikhail holding my hand, I’d probably get lost within a couple of minutes, doomed to starve in some hidden corner where nobody will be able to find me.
“You can have the east wing,” Catherina says. “Try not to make a mess. I do have a maid, but she only comes once a week. You’ll have to cook for yourself, too. We’re too far from the city for delivery. I expect you to keep relatively quiet. I’m a light sleeper and can be easily roused if you’re shuffling about late at night.”
I glance at Mikhail, wondering if he can sense my anxiety. Has his mother always been this intense? Or is this just how she is with me?
Catherina shoos us both away with the flick of her hand. “Misha, take her to her room. I’m going to lie down for a nap. Driving takes it out of me.”
Mikhail nods. “And then you’ll make those calls?”
The woman sighs. “Yes, yes. Leave the matter with me.”
My room is a spacious one, albeit stuffed full of all manner of cardboard boxes. It’s a guest bedroom turned storage room, I realize. I don’t know why I’m so disappointed. A part of me is grateful Catherina is allowing me to stay here, but she’s not exactly enthused.
“I’m a call away,” Mikhail tells me as he sets my duffle bag down on the bed.
“What’s going to happen to Charlotte?” I ask, voice quivering. Dread makes my throat close. “Do you think Konstantin will kill her?”
Mikhail presses his lips into a thin line. “I don’t know.”
Somehow, that’s a worse answer than him telling me yes. My stomach churns, the bitter taste of bile coating my tongue. If this is a nightmare, I want to wake up. I’m too dizzy, too heartbroken, too stunned to think straight. The gravity of the situation is finally hitting me, a delayed reaction due to shock. Someone was inmyhome looking forme. And they took Charlotte instead. I can’t even begin to imagine how frightened she must be.
As if reading my thoughts, Mikhail wraps me in a tight hug, pressing a kiss to my forehead. “I’m going to take care of this, Aurora,” he says firmly. “You have my word. I will deal with my uncle, and I will see to it that your friend is safely returned.”
I hug him back, clinging to him like a lifeline. I hate the tiny whimper that escapes me when I feel him slowly slip away.
“This will all be over soon,” he promises. Mikhail kisses me chastely before turning to walk away.
Chapter 22
Aurora
Aweek passes. Still no updates.
I’m going fucking crazy cooped up in this place. I rarely leave my room, afraid of disturbing Catherina. I may be her guest, but nothing about her behavior indicates that I’m a welcome one. I am walking on eggshells, so nervous that every unexpected sound from upstairs makes me want to jump straight out of my own skin.
I once compared Mikhail to a hurricane. If that’s the case, then Catherina is an apocalyptic freak of nature.
The woman terrifies me, but I’m also strangely intrigued by her. She may be small, but her forceful presence is unmistakable. My mother used to say that dynamite comes in small packages, and when I catch a glimpse of Catherina in the halls, I realize how right she was.
I try to give her a wide berth. She’s usually upstairs, chatting on her phone in Russian. For a person who deliberately chooses to live in a secluded corner of the country, she sure seems to have a lot of friends. Granted, her tone is always sharp and clipped, so I can’t tell if she’s having a pleasant conversation or if she’s reaming someone out.
