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I squirm. I may not be here for the job, but I’m nervous about the questions he might ask anyway. Dimitri keeps his distance, taking a seat at the kitchen island instead. Watching like a damn hawk.
The boy upstairs won’t stop crying.
“Is everything alright?” I ask, pointing up toward the ceiling. “Poor thing.”
“It’s been a… really hectic day,” he says tightly. Dimitri seems oddly flustered, though he’s quick to rectify this. “Are you sure you’re alright? After what happened yesterday. Did you at least go get checked out at the hospital?”
I nod, very much hoping to skip over this particular part of the conversation. He doesn’t need to know the truth. “I stopped by a clinic. Only a few cuts and bruises, I swear.”
Dimitri’s eyes flit down to my hands. They’re scraped up, but that’s the extent of the damage. After clearing his throat, he reaches into his pocket for his phone. After a few taps on the screen, he says, “Natalya Chekhov. Beautiful name.”
My cheeks warm. “Thank you.”
“According to your resume, you’ve had a few months’ experience as a maid, correct?”
I swallow. Edvard probably sent in a fake resume ahead of my appointment. His resourcefulness really knows no bounds. I only wish he’d given me more heads up. For now, though, I’m going to have to roll with the punches.
“Yes, that’s right,” I say with a sweet smile.
“Your references look impressive, too. Dahlia was ecstatic when your application came in.”
I keep my smile planted where it is. I won’t make the mistake of trying to elaborate. Vague answers are the way to go, lest I accidentally say something that raises a red flag. “My previous employer was very kind.”
His eyebrows shoot up. “It says here you were a doctor, too… Kind of a leap in career fields, isn’t it?”
I fight the urge to glare at Dimitri. He hasn’t moved once, a solid stone statue seated just at the edge of my periphery. This question is easier to answer.
“My father,” I say slowly, struggling to keep bitterness from coloring my tone. “He passed. I had to return home for a while to… take care of matters.”
His face falls. “Oh, I’m so sorry to hear that.”
I grit my teeth. “It’s alright.”It’s not. “It was… very sudden, but he’s in a better place now. I’m just trying to get my life back on track. Move on, you know?”
The irony isn’t lost on me. I haven’t been able to move on for an entire year. I eat, sleep, and breathe thoughts of vengeance. I won’t know peace until the deed is done.
“I see,” Dimitri says. “Mind if I ask why you didn’t return to medicine?”
For a moment, my smile slips.Because of you.
“To be honest? I needed a break. I loved helping patients, but the stress of the job combined with my father’s passing… I had to step away for my mental health.”And to plot your assassination.“Obviously I needed to earn a little income in the meantime, so I worked as a maid for a little while to pay the bills. I… still need time away. I’m not quite ready to go back to medicine.”
He nods slowly, eating up every little detail of my story. “That makes total sense. Taking care of yourself first is always important.”
I don’t appreciate how understanding he is. What’s with the good guy act? I simply nod.
“I should tell you this is a full-time position. You’d be needed Monday through Saturday in the mornings, and you’d answer directly to Dahlia. And you’d also have to consent to a background check. Would that work for you?”
I nod, going along with whatever he says. I’m not the least bit worried about having my past looked into. On paper, there’s nothing to see—Edvard made sure of that.
“That’d be perfect. My schedule is very flexible and—”
“Mr. Antonov!” It’s the woman, Dahlia, from the front door. “Sir, come quick! It’s your father!”
In the blink of an eye, Dimitri shoots out of his chair and runs down the hall, following the sound. I do, too, alarmed.We gather in a sun-filled room. By the window sits an empty wheelchair, an elderly man crumpled over just in front.
“Tell me what happened.”
Dahlia’s got the boy in her arms, moving out of the way to give Dimitri space. “I just finished changing the boy’s diaper. I came to check on Mr. Antonov when he started talking. He didn’t make sense. He got angry about something and tried to get out of his chair, but then he fell.”
