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I turn away from him with a sniffle. It doesn’t really matter what I know.
The decision has already been made for me.
14
EMMA
When Kirill said estate, he really meantestate.
The place is ginormous. It’s sprawled over acres, surrounded by fifteen-foot walls that pale in comparison to the grounds they protect. It’s hard to believe we’re only an hour from Manhattan. The lush greenery of Oyster Bay Cove feels like another state entirely.
Once we pass the first layer of security, which involves Fort Knox-esque levels of steel gates and grim-faced security guards, it’s a three-minute and twenty-seven-second drive to the mansion, which I know because Caroline dutifully counts off every one of those seconds.
Who takes that long to get to their front door from their front gate?
Ruslan Oryolov.That’s who.
Not that I’m impressed. Oh, no. I’m disgusted. This kind of wealth is… It’s obscene. It’s ridiculous. It’s egotistical. It’s—
“Whoa, this issocool!” Josh breathes in awe.
I don’t hear another peep from the girls. Any time they’re rendered speechless, I know for sure they’re blown away.
Whatever. This kind of luxury and excess may work on the kids. But it willnotwork on me. Until—
Oh my God! Is that the house?
“We’re going to be staying there?” Reagan squeals. “It’s like a castle!”
“Castle” is a much more appropriate word. I shudder to think what this property must have cost. Whoever said “Billionaire’s Row” was back in the heart of the city clearly hasn’t seen this behemoth.
“You guys better stick close to me,” I mutter as the car comes to a stop. “I don’t want any of you getting lost in there.”
“Maybe in the evening, I can take you guys down to the stables to see the horses,” Kirill suggests.
“There are horses!” Caroline screams in delight.
I plug a finger in each eardrum, though it’s too little, too late. My ears are still ringing when I get out of the car and turn to the intimidating structure in front of me. White Corinthian columns, scowling gargoyles, doors big enough to let in half a dozen Trojan Horses side by side… this place is absurd in every way.
“Is that a garden, Uncle Kiki?” Caroline asks, pointing to a perfectly manicured circular patch of grass and crushed gravel off to the right hand side of the property.
“Nope. That’s the helipad.”
I want to vomit.
“Come on, you little gremlins. Ruslan will be waiting for us inside.” He gives me a wary look over his shoulder, but I glance away so I don’t have to meet his eyes.
I wish there was a helicopter waiting on the helipad so that we could make a quick getaway. I don’t even need to know how to fly the thing; I’ll wing it.
Or crash it.
Either one seems like a better alternative than facing Ruslan.
Reagan grabs my hand and starts towing me towards the marble staircase that leads up to the house. There must be some kind of motors powering the front doors, which is convenient, because I don’t see a spare army around to help out if we had to open them ourselves.
We walk inside and, predictably, the interior of the house is every bit as impressive as the exterior. I stare open-mouthed at the quadruple-height ceilings and the jaw-dropping skylight hanging over the foyer, atrium, whatever the hell you call these monstrosities.
As Kirill directs us under the skylight, I notice a line of people standing off to the side. All are dressed in uniform, their eyes fastened on the opposite wall as though they’re scared to look directly at us.
