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Thisis where Ilya Volkov lives? It’s no cottage. It’s a fucking castle. I shake my head in disbelief. But, this is it, alright. And palace or not, the student I’m supposed to tutor in order to bulk up my resume is in there.
This will be fine.
Unless he eats you.
I tremble as I push the gate open and step through. I fast-walk up the stone walkway to the enormous, black iron and old-wood door. There’s no doorbell.
I frown. What the hell am I supposed to do, use a battering ram? Have my squire call up to the Lord of the realm?
I take a breath, haul my fist back, and pound. Then I pound again, and again. Finally, I hear the sound of a lock being drawn back. The door cracks and then swings open. I blink in surprise.
The girl is not who I expected. She’s… stunning. Tall, leggy, blonde, and absolutely gorgeous. And here I am standing in the pouring rain in a baggy red raincoat, hair stuck to my face, no makeup, looking like a shipwreck survivor.
The wrinkled-nose look of disdain she gives me seems to back that up.
“Who are you?” She sneers in a haughty, posh British accent. Her manicured brow arches with distaste.
“I—I’m the…”
I suddenly realize there’s a party going on behind her. The inside of the manor is even more gorgeous than the outside. And it’s full of students drinking, dancing, making out, smoking cigarettes—and something else by the smell of it—and roaring with laughter. Music thuds.
“Were youinvited?” She sneers.
I frown. “No, I—I mean, I’m the—”
She suddenly smiles widely. “Oh! Oh, no, honey,” her smile thins. “We won’t need the maid service until tomorrow. And when you do come back, do make sure you come through the service entrance at the back, yeah?”
Her cold eyes pierce me as her lips thin. “Kay,bye…”
She starts to shut the door in my face. But my rain boot juts out to stop her. She looks at me like I’ve just peed on the royal jewels.
“Are youfucking—”
“I’m actually the tutor?” I smile weakly. Then I take a breath and compose myself. I stand a little taller. “I’m the tutor. I’m here for Ilya.”
She stares at me. But slowly, her lips curl in amusement.
“Ilya?” She says with a smirk.
“Uh, yes. Does he live here?”
She grins widely. “You’re sure you’re looking for Ilya. Ilya Volkov.”
Good grief.
“I’m sure,” I say tightly. “Can I—”
“Stay here, I’ll get him.” She starts to turn. But then she glances back at me and shakes her head. “You’re sure about this?”
“Pardon me?”
She chuckles as her eyes slide up and down over me, like she’s sizing me up. Her lips smirk.
“Oh, hon,” she shakes her head and gives me a faux-sympathetic look. “Just remember, you had the chance to run, and didn’t.”
She shuts the door. I stand there in the pouring rain, blinking and trying to figure out what the hell just happened.
The minutes tick by. After about five of them, I realize I’m being pranked, or hazed or something. Yeah, screw this. I can tutor anyone. But I don’t need to deal with this mean-girl shit.
