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“That’s a lot of nice stuff for a woman he’s about to sell,” I point out with a little more snark than planned. It isn’t Anna’s fault hermasteris such an asshole.
Unperturbed, she simply keeps unloading the bags before pulling out the hidden doors that reveal his closet. Then she begins hanging my clothes right alongside his. Among the horde of embarrassingly lacy and see-through undergarments that I will never be wearing, are two black cocktail dresses, a few summer dresses, black and cream slacks, a variety of blouses along with some jeans and t-shirts.
Then she begins unloading the shoes.
What the hell is going on?
“Here.” Anna sets some undergarments, a pair of blue jeans, and a cream silk blouse out on the bed. “Put this on.”
Why bother?
Apparently, she can sense my reluctance because she adds, “If you want to go for a walk outside, you need clothes that aren’t Master Adrian’s.”
Wait, what?
A walk?
A small smile etches the corners of her mouth when I launch myself from the chair and grab up the clothes. I hurry into the bathroom, closing the door behind me. Quickly disrobing from Adrian’s clothes, I hop in the shower to rinse off. When I’m done, I dry myself off and slip into the nude lace underwear and bra before putting on the jeans.
Damn, they are soft.
And perfectly sized.
Pervert must have measured me.
Ignoring that thought, I toss on the muted cream blouse and run a brush through my hair. It’s lackluster and somewhat frizzy. Not wanting to deal with it, I toss it up in a bun with the only hair tie I have. It’s definitely seen better days.
By the time I step out of the bathroom, Anna has finished unloading the clothes and is waiting expectantly for me, a pair of beige flats in her hand. Her gaze wanders over me as I put on the shoes and appearing satisfied with how I look, she nods and motions for me to follow her.
The hallway is quiet as we step out of the room. There is a guard by my door, but as we move down the corridor, he doesn’t follow. Hope spurs inside of me until I realize that there is a guard in every single room and most of the hallways.
There goes my escape plan.
Anna leads me through the house, which is sparsely decorated except for a few paintings on the wall and well-placed furniture. The walls are a dull white and the furniture black. It looks more like a mausoleum than a home.
There are no trinkets, nothing of sentimental value. I barely recognize the home that I once visited Ada in. When they’d been married it had been light and airy. Full of color, and exactly the way I had always envisioned my own home. Adrian had hired a special interior designer to make the house into a dream for her.
Only, it was never Ada’s dream.
It had been mine.
Just like this house had been.
There were only two people I had ever confided in about wanting this house. About my dream of decorating it full of color and filling it with the smell of freshly baked goods. I’d always dreamed of a house full of love and laughter. Something that didn’t exist in my house growing up. My mother was always drunk, and my father was always working when he wasn’t screwing a maid or two.
Ada had been one of those people and the other was a boy I never had the chance to get to know. He’d texted the wrong number. That’s how we got started. We did this for years, texting and leaving messages in a small alcove of a tree that bordered my property. The only weak link in my father’s security. Years later, when he found out I was to be married off, we made plans to meet. Only, he never showed, and I never heard from him again.
Such is life, I guess.
“You’ll get one half-hour outside, twice a day,” Anna’s voice interrupts my morose thoughts. I hadn’t thought about the boy, Adrik, in a long time. If he even was a boy. We’d only discussed ages once and wonder if that is part of the reason he never showed that night. Maybe he saw me and thought I was too young. I was twenty at the time. He didn’t speak like a boy who was younger than me. More like a man.
“Okay,” I murmured as I stepped out onto the patio. The sun is shining, as it usually does in Vegas. The fact that it is the beginning of March doesn’t matter. The weather is warm, with a slight cooling breeze that makes it the perfect temperature for a walk. Without wasting any time, I slowly make my way around the large bountiful backyard.
This is the only place that hasn’t changed. In the six years since Ada’s death, the garden still thrives. Unlike everything else around it. I stroll past honeysuckle and desert marigolds. Canna Lilies and Tall Bearded Irises soak up the warm rays in one corner of the garden where they surround a small white iron bench.
“Does he treat you decently, Ada?”I ask her as we sit on the small wrought iron bench with our coffees in hand. I’ve been worried about her being married to Volkov. He’s volatile, my father says. My best friend smiles like she is holding on to a secret.
“He treats me so well.” She winks, and I can’t help but blush at her innuendo. Unlike Ada, I will go into my marriage as a virgin. Not by my choice. In my world, mafia princesses are worth more if their virginity is intact. Makes for a better bargaining chip. The whole thing makes me sick, but without it, I am useless to my family. They will disown me, and I have nowhere to go.
