I look out across the lake from my perch in the garden. I’ve stayed well clear of it since the confrontation with Aleks three days ago.
But it winks at me from a distance, sunlight glinting off the surface, beckoning me forward.
I ignore it and stare down at my notebook.
The maids don’t just bring in food on trays anymore—they bring fresh paper and sharpened pencils, too. And for all that, I’ve only managed to create a handful of half-assed sketches I’d never in a million years consider submitting to any employer I cared about.
I put my pencil down and study my latest piece. My brain decided to become the space where ideas go to die, so I opted for a landscape. Stupid, boring, obvious. And the art reflects that.
When the gardeners arrived to trim the hedges, I thought I’d take their likenesses. But they’re coming out strangely misshapen, and the hedges they’re trimming look like hunks of unformed clay.
“Where did my talent go?” I whine.
I’m feeling repulsively sorry for myself. The cold doesn’t help matters. My nose is a snot faucet and I have to stop drawing every thirty seconds to hack up a lung.
Talk about kicking a woman while she’s down.
I put my sketchbook down and kick my feet up on the table in the middle of the sitting area. The balcony overhead offers shade.
And, when someone’s hands drape over the railing to alert me to their presence, it offers the perfect hiding place.
I tuck my legs back into the shadows and listen. I expect it to be Aleks, but I hear a woman’s voice instead. Yulia.
“Yes, of course… This is not my first time, darling…”
She’s on the phone with someone. Her tone is friendly, almost flirtatious. But there’s a serious bent to it at the same time. She’s talking business, but trying to keep it light.
“She’s perfect. Pretty and innocent,” she says.
Is she talking about me? I think for a moment in a very uncharacteristic bout of self-centeredness.
“Yes,” she continues. “Sophie Gonzales, that’s right.”
Ah. Apparently not.
The conversation continues for a few more minutes, nothing but some casual chatter and laughter before she wraps it up.
“Of course, darling. I’ll see you there. Ciao.”
A few moments later, Yulia comes down the staircase next to the balcony. When she steps onto the patio below and sees me, she startles.
“Dear Lord, Olivia! How long have you been there?”
“Most of the evening,” I tell her. “Getting some drawing in.”
Her eyes flicker distractedly over my paper. “Oh, that’s nice. How are you recovering from your cold?”
“The maids keep you informed, I see.”
She smiles and takes the vacant seat next to me. “It is my job. I am the head housekeeper, after all.”
“I’d say you’re a little more than that, no?”
“That’s sweet of you to say, darling. Really, though, I don’t mind so much. Especially now that I’ve found some friends outside of this oppressive realm.”
“Wow,” I say. Simple as it may seem, I’m kind of happy that she feels she can be so open and honest with me. “Well, then I’m glad for you.”
“Thank you, dear.”
She gives me a maternal smile and I feel slightly comforted. These past few days of isolation have been harder on me than I’m willing to admit. It’s nice to sit here with a woman who’s kind, who’s warm, who’s willing to listen.
Her son shares none of those qualities.
“The cold has passed,” I tell her belatedly. “I’m all good now.”
“I can see that. Wonderful news.”
“And you?” I ask. “You’ve been well?”
“Very.”
She doesn’t offer much more than that, so I decide not to pry. I look out towards the lake. I don’t realize I’ve sighed out loud until Yulia mentions it.
“Something wrong, dear?”
“Oh, uh, no. It’s nothing.”
Her eyes twinkle. “Feeling a little lonely?”
“I’m feeling all kinds of things, to be honest,” I admit. “Lonely is definitely high on the list. It seems that everyone who wants to talk to me is off-limits.”
Yulia nods in understanding. “Is my son being difficult with you?”
“As far as I can tell, he’s been difficult with everyone since the day he was born.”
“You’re right about that,” she chuckles. “He’s always been hot-headed. When he gets angry, he often gets irrational.”
“Makes sense. But still, I don’t understand why he’d have such a problem with me talking to either one of you.”
“Either one of us?” Yulia asks curiously.
I realize she doesn’t know about my run-in with Vlad. “I met your husband a few days ago.”
“Oh, I see.” She looks mildly surprised, but she takes it in her stride. “He’s a charmer, isn’t he?”
“He is.”
She gives a soft smile. “You can only imagine what he was like in his youth, when he was healthy. When he chose to be, he was the most charming man I’ve ever met.”
“I guess the apple fell extremely far from the tree then,” I mutter.
Yulia laughs. “The world throws itself at the feet of beautiful people. Aleksandr has always been handsome. Vladimir wasn’t blessed with quite the same fortune. He learned to use his charisma instead.”
“So you’re saying if Aleks were ugly, he’d be more pleasant to be around?”
She laughs again—but this time, far out of proportion to the level of humor I’m bringing to the table. It builds and builds until she’s doubled over, wheezing and crying, slapping her knee again and again.
At first, I laugh with her, but when it keeps going, I fade off nervously and watch.
Eventually, she recovers. She dabs away the tears on her cheeks and says, “Pardon me. I… haven’t been myself lately.”
“Oh?” I ask, wringing my hands together. “In what way?”
“I suppose finding your way is always hard,” she muses. “But trying to find your way in your sixties is an altogether different challenge.”
“At least you’re trying,” I point out. “That’s brave. Braver than anything I’ve ever tried.”
She looks at me with a sympathetic nod. “You are much too young to be playing it safe, Olivia.”
I laugh bitterly. “The last time I decided to live on the edge, I ended up trapped in this house with a sick man who forced me to marry him. As soon as I get out of here, no one in history will ever play it safer.”
“Those are all things he would have done regardless,” she replies. “He had his sights set on your brother long before he ever set eyes on you. This had nothing to do with your choices.”
“Somehow, that doesn’t make me feel better,” I mutter. “Possibly even worse, actually. The only reason he even looked my way that day is because he was planning this diabolical scheme to get even with my brother. I could have been anyone.”
“Is that what you’re worried about?” Yulia asks. “The fact that he was only feigning interest in you?”
“I… no, of course not. We don’t have to talk about this,” I say awkwardly, even though I’ve already blurted out the embarrassing truth.
“Don’t worry, Olivia,” Yulia says kindly. “He has that effect on women.”
“Oh God. Kill me now.” I bury my face in my hands.
She chuckles next to me. “Don’t be embarrassed. You have nothing to be ashamed of. All women want to be seen. That’s no crime.”
“Would you mind not…”
“Not telling him?” she asks. “Of course. Our little secret.”
“Thank you,” I say, even though I’m not a hundred percent certain I can trust her word.
“But a word of advice from an old woman who’s been through it all,” she says, turning to me with solemn eyes. “Don’t lose yourself to him completely, Olivia. It will destroy you before it makes you stronger.”
“I know.”
She nods. “Of course you do. You’re a smart woman. Smarter than I was at your age.”
“Is that what happened to you?”
She sighs and is quiet for a moment while she thinks. “Do you know, I was actually relieved when my husband had his stroke? It’s a horrible thing to admit, I’m aware of that. But it’s the truth. I finally had some measure of freedom. I was finally able to live the life I wanted.”
“And did you? Have you?”
“Some days, yes. Some days, no,” she admits. “I still have a son to answer to.”
I shake my head. “I couldn’t do what you do.”
“You might have to, unless you are ready for war,” she warns. “Or you can be like me and take the hard route. I did the latter; I rebelled. Sometimes, if I was secretive enough, my affairs went unnoticed. But other times, we were caught.”
“What happened then?”
“I would be punished. The men would disappear. I knew better than to ask questions.”
A shiver runs down my spine. I think about the kindly old man I shared a few laughs with by the lake. Suddenly, I feel guilty about that.
Just another thing I have to add to the list.
“What a bullshit double standard,” I spit. “He can bring women home whenever he likes, but you step one toe over the line he dictates for you and people die? It’s fucked up.”
My thoughts are beginning to spiral as I stare at the woman who’s been through it all and still manages to present herself with grace and dignity.
I admire Yulia.
But I refuse to follow in her footsteps.
“If I’m not free, then neither is he,” I conclude.
I hear a snap and look down to realize I’ve tightened my fist so hard that the pencil broke apart in my hand.
Yulia raises her eyebrows and reaches out to place her hand over mine. “I tell you this because I do actually care about you: submit. It’ll be easier that way.”
I tear my hand out from under hers. “Easier?” I scoff. “Easier for whom?”
“For everyone involved,” she says with a defeated sigh.
I shake my head and get to my feet. “I already told him I won’t stand for him screwing around while I’m his captive. I just won’t.”
Yulia’s eyes go wide. She looks guilty.
“What?” I press. “What is it?”
She shakes her head quickly. “Nothing.”
“Yulia, if you really are on my side, you’ll tell me.”
She looks so conflicted. If Aleks were in my position, he would demand she tell him everything. He’d threaten her, do whatever it took.
But I’m not him.
And as much as I don’t want to be like Yulia—bending under the pressure of powerful men, living always in a terrified survival mode—I don’t want to be like him, either.
She sighs. “He has a woman in his office right now.”
My body goes cold. I don’t even realize I’m up and striding away until I hear Yulia cry out my name.
“Olivia, what are you doing?” she calls.
I don’t reply—mostly because I don’t have an answer for her. I’m not quite sure myself.
I keep walking until I reach his office. There’s no one around, so I move closer to his door. I press my ear against the cool wood.
Nothing. No sound comes through. I take a step back and weigh my options.
Luckily, a maid rounds the corner just then. “Hey!” I call out.
“Yes, ma’am?” she asks, her eyes downcast. “How can I help you?”
“Aleks… ah, Don Makarova wanted some ice in his office. Immediately.”
“There’s ice in a silver bucket under the bar.”
“Um, he… ran out.”
“Oh! I’ll get some right away,” she says. She scurries off and she’s back in less than a minute with a small bucket of ice.
We stand awkwardly outside the door for a moment, each of us waiting for the other to open it.
“Why don’t you knock?” I suggest.
Her brow creases, but she doesn’t disobey the order. A second later, I hear Aleks’s voice. “What is it?”
“It’s Lydia, sir,” she says. “I have your ice.”
“Ice?”
I hold my breath, waiting for my plan to dissolve right in front of my eyes.
But then, the door opens.
Aleks is standing there, looking annoyed. I don’t have time to see if he looks disheveled or mussed or guilty. I just shove past him and Lydia, pushing my way into the office.
I swivel towards the fourth person in the room. Yulia was right. There is a woman in his office.
But unlike what I feared, she’s not naked.
It’s so much worse.
