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“And who would you call now?”
Ouch. That stings.
Another shrug from me. “Your sister. Or your mom. They’re nice. I’ve never really had anyone to talk to before besides Ada.”
I keep my eyes firmly on the ground studying the intricate carpet that runs along the floor. It looks expensive, maybe Persian?
“Vanya, look at me.” I shake my head and refuse to move my gaze. If I look up, I know what I'll see. Pity. I don't want to see his pity or his judgment. “Now, Vanya.”
There's a finality in his voice that suggests that if I don't follow his directions, it won't be good for me. Lucky for him I really want to get out of this house. I drag my gaze up from the floor to meet his eyes. There's concern there, lining the edges of his sapphire depths. What I don't see is condescension or pity.
“Sasha and his men will go with you,” he tells me. I nod my head to show him I understand. “I won't have another repeat of yesterday. Is that clear?” Another nod. “Words, Vanya.”
“I understand,” I whisper softly.
He smiles softly down at me before placing a gentle kiss on my forehead. My mouth opens slightly at the tender gesture that is so contradictory to what he's shown me. Maybe he cares after all.
* * *
The rideacross town to the mall takes longer than normal due to the traffic. The tourist crowds are beginning to resurge in the city due to the basketball season that Vegas deems March Madness. Once we arrive, Sasha takes me to the store Adrian owns to pick out a cell phone. Not knowing what I need I allow Sasha to pick me the one he believes I'll like. It's small in my hand, but Sasha says it has a powerful camera that I can use to take photos of the garden.
We spend a few more minutes picking out accessories before finally leaving the store.
“Is there anything else you’d like to stop and look at?” Sasha asks as we travel through the mall and back to the SUV. I shake my head.
“I don’t really need anything,” I tell him. He nods but doesn’t look satisfied.
“Alright.” He doesn’t push.
When we are situated back inside the SUV, I lean forward and ask, “Can we stop by Svetlana’s, please?”
Sasha picks up his cell phone and starts typing away. I’ll give you one guess who he is texting. “I just have to ask Adrian first.”
Winner. Winner. Chicken dinner.
Maybe I should take up gambling. Apparently, I’m good at predictions.
“Boss says yes.”
Pft. “Well, as long as we have his highness’s permission,” I mock.
Pulling into traffic, Sasha remains quiet for a few moments as we make our way off the Strip. “You know he is just wanting to keep you safe.”
“I think you mean caged.”
“A cage is only a cage because you say it is.”
Cryptic bastard.
Who is he? Gandhi? Shaking my head, I ignore his words and lean back in my seat. He’s wrong. My life with Adrian isn’t a cage because I see it as one. It’s a cage because of how my soon-to-be husband treats me. My entire life I have had to ask permission. I was never allowed to come and go as I please. There was never any public school or days spent playing at the park with other kids. I’d never been allowed to travel or attend college. Even at formal functions, I was kept isolated. My job was to look pretty and help show a united family front for the politicians in my father’s pockets.
Will Adrian allow me to attend college if I ask him? I doubt it. What if I want to do charity events and make friends? Open a restaurant like I always dreamed of? It will always be the same answer no matter where I go or who I am with.
Sasha parks the SUV in the designated parking garage instead of on the street like last time. If I was hoping to catch a glimpse of the girl and her father, I won’t be able to do it from here.
“Come on,” my bodyguard urges me, signaling to his men to keep a tight watch on the perimeter. He strides toward an elevator at the back and presses the button. It opens immediately. When we step in, I notice there are only three buttons but over forty floors. “It’s a private elevator. Only goes to the parking garage, the lobby, and the penthouse.” He swipes his thumbprint on the scanner. “No one without authorization can access it.”
Makes sense. Especially once I learn that it opens directly into his mother’s foyer. I look around the large space. It is nothing short of awe-inspiring. The walls leading down the hallway are decorated with art deco paper that gives off pastel desert vibes. The fixtures are antique gold, made to look worn and used.
