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“I’m working on it,” I promise. “But it can’t happen overnight. Not unless we want his most loyal followers coming after us in retaliation. We’re going to have to be patient and do this one step at a time.”
Aurora nods, just once. Her expression is harder, more difficult to read. She’s starting to learn the value of stoicism. Nobody can tell what you’re thinking if you give them nothing to work with.
“What do we do until then?” she asks.
“We play the roles he’s assigned. The heir and his woman. We’ll do as he says, give him no reason to doubt us. It will give us time to move our chess pieces into position.”
“How long do you think it’ll take?”
“A few weeks. A few months. A few years. It’s hard to say. We need this to look gradual. Realistic. We can’t go out there and pretend he’s our favorite person in the whole world. This is a long game, Aurora. If we’re going to survive him, I need to know you’re ready for what might come.”
She places a hand on her belly, her brows furrowed in concern. “We’re in this together?”
“Always,kisa. Always.”
Chapter 34
Aurora
“More lemons!” Charlotte says to the guard, miming the shape of a lemon with her hands. “Le-mons. Lemons? Come on, man. She’s got cravings. Are you really going to keep a pregnant lady waiting?”
The guard posted at the door shifts uncomfortably. It’s obvious he doesn’t speak English, but to be fair, Charlotte has made no effort to learn any Russian.
We’re seated in the tearoom today, but we’re still confined to the east wing when Mikhail is away. We’ve been served various fruity pastries, the crumbs occasionally falling into the book I’ve been reading all afternoon.
Slowly but surely, we’ve been given a little more freedom as the days go by. Charlotte is given her own room down the hall, but she spends most of her time in mine, anyway. Catherina is… somewhere. Doing her own thing, still tracking down the names of the Antonov Bratva accountants. Until I have those, I can’t complete my end of the mission.
A part of me wonders if she’s stalling on purpose, too caught up in living it up like the queen she pretends she is. I sometimes watch her through my window getting into a car and drive off somewhere. It’s obvious Konstantin trusts her more than me, but my time will come. I can already feel my leash loosening.
We fall into a shaky, nervous, but necessary routine. Mikhail spends most of the days away, summoned by his uncle to do God knows what. They never discuss Bratva business in front of me or any of the other women in the mansion, but it’s not like I want to know what villainous things Konstantin gets up to in the course of a day anyway.
The number of guards assigned to me doesn’t change. There’s still six of them in total, all their faces easily recognizable to me now, but something’s shifted in my favor. They lack focus. Once on high alert because Konstantin considered me a high value prisoner, my guards have now taken on a more lax attitude. There’s a reason my days are so predictable. Boring. Andbecauseit’s so boring, my guards are getting sloppy.
Which is perfectly fine by me.
“Limony,” I say in Russian. “For my ginger tea—diya moyego imbirnogo chaya.” My accent is heavy, and the words don’t feel quite right in my mouth, but it’s still undeniable progress.
The guard—I’ve learned his name is Alexi—seems to understand me, because after a brief moment of contemplation he says, “Ya skoro vernus,”which I’m pretty sure means I’ll be back.
Charlotte laughs as she sits down beside me. “You’re getting pretty good. Has Mikhail been giving you some private lessons?”
I roll my eyes. “I don’t know what you’re insinuating.”
“Oh, please. The walls are really thin. I haven’t gotten a good night’s sleep since he got back. Do you think you could take a break from boinking like bunnies for, like,onenight?”
My ears burn. “We’re not that loud.”
Alexi returns with a small bowl of decently sized lemons. He sets it down on the coffee table for me.
I smile politely. “Thank you.Spasibo.”
“Pozhaluysta.”You’re welcome.He smiles back. He’s one of the only guards who treats me with some semblance of kindness. His dark brown hair is cropped short, his face clean shaven. A handful of scars cover his face, a few above his brow, one just above his lip where it must have been split several years ago.
Alexi leaves and returns to his post at the door, facing away into the hall to keep an eye out for danger—not that there is any. Things on the compound have been nice and quiet lately, especially with Konstantin always away on business. That’s honestly fine by me. The less he’s home, the more I can prepare for the day of his downfall.
It’s difficult to cut the lemons in half when all I have to work with is a butterknife, but the house staff won’t allow me anywhere near anything that can be used as a weapon. I suppose if I tried hard enough, I could take someone’s eye out with the butterknife, but I’m approaching four months pregnant and would really rather not find out.
While Alexi isn’t looking, I squeeze one of the lemon halves and catch the juice in the bottom of my teacup. There’s nothing else inside, just the acid. I dip the tip of my finger into the fluid and use it to write on one of the blank back pages of my book.
