A shimmer of hope breaks through as I remember the way his control snapped. How he thundered at me that I wasn’t going anywhere. The cold, clipped, cultured accent was gone; grit and fire raged at me. It wasn’t about the money I made him in that moment, it was about me. I wasn’t allowed to leave him because he wanted me for me. It had been there in his kiss. Despite the words he spoke, when it came to his kiss, it had nothing to do with money.
How do I stay, though? How am I supposed to work beside him for even another week and pretend that I don’t care? And then after that, I get to see him once a week in a room filled with people and act as if I don’t know what he tastes like?
I’m an easy read, I won’t be able to last long. Ivan could pretend, though. No one would know, they would think I’m the bunny boiler stalker. Only I know the truth...wait a minute. Rubbing my eyes, I catch my breath. Would he really be able to pretend? And if he could, for how long? For the entire three years I planned to stay. Three years, god, it sounds like a prison sentence.
My phone goes off with a text from Emily, asking if I could stop and pick up more Cuban bread. I respond of course, I’m leaving work now. Even as I say the words, I’m wincing. I hate lying, to anyone.
The memory is sharp: I had asked Abuelo once if he knew the same way Abuela had that he was going to marry her when he first met her? He laughed—of course he had. Then why did he tell her to go away? His sigh was heavy as he replied it was because he loved her. She was too young, there were things she still had to learn. He didn’t want her to regret anything when they married because he was never going to let her go. So he lied. He lied because it was the right thing to do at the time.
That was no excuse for me to lie, though, he cautioned me as a teenager who had discovered there were far more liars in the world than I was led to believe. But what if I was a liar? What if I lied to Ivan the same way he’s lying to me?
8
Christina
I eye the makeup case, wondering if I dare to do it. Then shake my head. I’m pretty sure I have pushed my luck as far as I dare, for a little while at least. Besides, weirdly I fell into bed last night before ten o’clock from pure exhaustion and slept for nine full hours. That hasn’t happened in what feels like forever.
I don’t need makeup today, there are no dark circles under my eyes, and my skin is glowing and even. But since I’m not backing down completely, I brush on some mascara then run the wand through my eyebrows to thicken them, curl my lashes then line my lips in a dark red, filling them in with lip crayon. I tuck the lip crayon into my purse for after breakfast.
Getting dressed takes a few minutes. I give up, none of my blouses fit right to please Ivan. Shame fills me at just how badly I want to please him.
I pick a black wrap dress, tightening it the most I have in the few times I’ve worn it. I try to ignore the way my breasts nearly burst out of the neckline. All the better to show Ivan what he is missing out on.
Abuelo has breakfast waiting again.
“Again? You’re spoiling me. I need cream, don’t make that face,” I warn as I heat the half and half.
“You look better this morning.” His frown is deep in the lines of his forehead.
Caught off guard by his concern, I wonder how badly I hid my distress. I thought I did a good job, obviously I was wrong. “I meant to tell you last night, but I was just...” I shrug. “Simon got fired and I get his office.”
For the first time since his hea
rt attack, he smiles at me with joy on his face. “Finally, you deserve it. You have worked hard. I’m proud of you.”
“Thank you, but I don’t get the office just yet. I’m working for Volkov as his personal assistant until he can find a new permanent assistant. It shouldn’t be long, a few weeks at most. He’s just—” I bite my tongue—Abuelo doesn’t like me swearing. He can swear all he wants, but a lady doesn’t swear and he and Abuela raised me to be a lady. “—really demanding, so I’m a little stressed.
“But it’s worth it. I get a raise when I take over Simon’s office and it’s huge. We’ll be able to not just pay off the mortgage this year, but we can afford to go on a vacation. We deserve it. Somewhere nice and warm. What do you think? Want to spend Christmas somewhere they don’t have snow?”
It stings when he shakes his head. “I don’t want you wasting your money.”
“Abuelo, this isn’t wasting money. Neither of us have had a real vacation in more years than I can count. Taking Abuela to Cuba doesn’t count.” It was her last wish to see Cuba before she died. We spent a week there when the doctors gave up and sent her home to die in peace. Only three weeks after we got back to Chicago she died.
“We both deserve this. It isn’t a waste. Just a week or so. I don’t have much vacation left but if you don’t come up with a place, I’ll pick and leave you here.”
A firm nod. “Do that, go and have some fun, all by yourself.”
I’m not laughing. “Abuelo, I would be miserable if I were by myself. Why do you say stuff like that?
“Christina.” A sigh as he rubs his head. “I want you to do things that make you happy. To have more fun. You’re young and you need to find a husband before—"
God, this again. I am so sick of him harping on me finding a man and getting married. “I am happy. Just because I’m not going out to a club and getting drunk and being with random men doesn’t mean I’m not happy.”
Stern, “I didn’t say be with random men. I said a husband. You deserve a good and honorable man and you aren’t going to find them in a club.”
“Abuelo, getting married is not the end all and be all for a woman.”
“It’s not about getting married. It’s about finding someone to love and who loves you. I won’t be around forever—”