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Dahlia scuttles away with the boy—myson—in her arms. The only ones remaining are Father, Natalya, and myself, although Lev is in a world entirely of his own, his eyes distant and unfocused.
I don’t miss the way Natalya stiffens in my presence, her demeanor suddenly distant. Not cold, per se, but certainly not warm and welcoming, either.
“I’m glad you accepted the position,” I say. “Should you require any assistance, do let Dahlia know.”
She nods, just once, helping to bring a glass of water up to my father’s lips. Her lack of eye contact bothers me.
“Is something the matter?” I ask.
“No, not at all.” She keeps her eyes cast to the floor when she speaks. “Just trying to focus.”
I suppose that’s fair. I’m sure Lev wouldn’t appreciate water being dumped all over his lap. “Have you had a chance to see your room?”
“Yes, Dahlia showed me.”
She’s blunt. I’d normally chalk it up to nerves, but my gut tells me it’s more than that. Something isn’t quite right.
“Ms. Chekov?”
“Yes?”
“Have I offended you somehow?”
Natalya finally looks at me. I’d almost forgotten how striking those brilliant blue eyes of hers are. “No, sir. You haven’t offended me.”
I’m at a loss for words—something my brothers would no doubt make fun of me for because I’mneverat a loss for words. Pyotr likes to say I’m the chatterbox of the family.
I asked my question and she answered. Could it be that she’s nervous because I’m her boss? To be fair, our first encounter was less than ideal. Maybe she just needs some time to get used to her new environment. I can’t imagine it must be easy, living someplace new on such short notice.
“Well, then,” I mutter, clearing my throat. “I’ll be in my office should you need anything—”
“Thank you,” she says, almost cutting me off.
I grit my teeth.
Nerves. It’s definitely got to be nerves.
Hopefully things will work themselves out.
Chapter 8
Natalya
Iavoid the man like the plague.
I’m diligent when it comes to taking care of Lev. I’m kind and patient when I’m looking after Simon. I even enjoy helping Dahlia with some of the more labor-intensive tasks around the house. But Dimitri…
He makes me nervous.
Reallynervous.
I’ve done my best to keep my distance, to dedicate all my time and energy into being Lev’s caretaker and Simon’s nanny. I love the work. Helping people was something I was born to do. They keep my days busy for the most part, and any downtime I have is usually spent in the privacy of my room—observing, plotting.
Dimitri is a ghost.
His comings and goings are difficult to track. Even after all my diligent work mapping out his day-to-day schedule, it seems the car bomb incident has thrown everything off-kilter. Dimitri no longer keeps to his usual routine, no doubt trying to throw his suspected enemies for a loop. What he doesn’t know is I’m right here, watching and waiting for the opportune moment to strike.
Dimitri has early mornings and late nights. I’m so busy taking care of Lev and Simon that I won’t see him for long stretches of time throughout the day. I’ve been given free reign of the entire mansion. I have access to every room except one. He rarely comes out of his office, a room I have not had the chance to explore.
