A thick cardigan and a long coat keep me relatively warm as I wander the garden at the back of the castle. Snow crunches under my feet, and frost bites at my skin. The snow stopped last night, but the freezing temperature keeps the white fluff from melting. I brush it off from a bench tucked between two huge, old oak trees and sit, breathing heavily into my hands.
I should’ve put on a pair of gloves.
Two days have passed since I found Jess’s portrait in Anatolij’s office. Questions shift swiftly through my brain, poisoning every thought. I’m getting no answers, though. Anatolij’s nowhere around. In fact, I haven’t seen him since the ball. He skipped all the meals yesterday and didn’t come downstairs for breakfast this morning. I’m not even sure if he’s in the castle. He’s avoiding me; that much is clear, but he can’t stay away forever. At some point, he will have no choice but to come out of hiding and answer my questions.
Unfortunately, patience isn’t one of my virtues. Tired of waiting and frustrated, I decided to get some fresh air to clear my head. Instead, more absurd ideas bloom in my mind while I sit on the bench under the oak trees.
Were they lovers back then? Maybe they stayed in touch throughout the years? Were they sneaking around behind Frank’s back? Jess had no problem fucking the Cuban workers, so cheating with Anatolij would be a plausible explanation if not for three major flaws.
One: Anatolij’s powerful, handsome, rich, and sophisticated. All my mother craves. Why would she stay with Frank if she could have a much better version of him?
Two: Frank was perceptive. There’s no way Jess could keep an affair that spanned over many years a secret. He knew she was cheating on him with the help but turned a blind eye to those escapades because he wasn’t a saint either, but I doubt he’d allow his wife to lead a double life for years.
Three: Jess is pretty, and… that’s about it. I can’t imagine someone as intelligent as Anatolij taking an interest in my less-than-bright mother.
I wanted to call her and demand a few answers, but Dante made me promise not to tell Jess where I’m hiding. Mentioning Anatolij will give her a pretty good idea. She’s daft, but not daft enough not to figure out where I am. Still, my finger hovers over her name in my contacts list occasionally. Dante’s handsome face flashes before my eyes every time to stop me from dialing. I can’t risk my safety to satisfy my curiosity.
On the other hand, I no longer feel safe in Moscow. If Anatolij offered to hide me here only because of his affiliation with my mother, he might not take the task of keeping me out of harm’s way too seriously.
I rub my face with both hands. When will the secrets and lies stop? I want a normal, peaceful life with Dante. Or at least as normal as the life of a mafia boss and his future bride can be. Dante’s the only person who puts me above all else. The one who loves me unconditionally. The one who never lies. I need him. His peace, presence, and determination. He’d chase the problems away with one kiss on my forehead.
A sad, bitter laugh slips out of my mouth. I did nothing to deserve him or make him fall in love with me. I did everything to make him hate me and nothing to get him back.
And now, I sit in the fancy garden outside the imposing castle doing nothing again. I’m not trying to save my own skin. I’m not even trying to force the truth out of Anatolij. No, I just sit on a bench, shivering with cold, wallowing in self-pity, close to tears.
I hate what I’ve become. A stupid, silly princess missing a shoe, biting into a poisoned apple, and waiting for the prince to kiss me back to life.
What a joke.
There was a time when I had to fend for myself; when I fought for respect and love. A time when I didn’t let anyone walk all over me. A time not so long ago.
Then Dante came along, offering what I never had. He surrounded me with attention, admiration, and affection.
He locked me in that stupid tower.
He stole my shoe.
He broke me.
Took away my ability to fight my own battles.
Am I really that girl? I hate that girl. I can’t be her. No way in heaven.
I jump to my feet, sick and tired of feeling helpless. Dante’s not here to help me force the truth out of Anatolij, so it’s right about damn time I take matters into my own hands. Besides, up until we met, I did damn well on my own. I survived years with Frank and never once needed a chaperone.
Confrontation used to be my driving force.
A swirl of snow breaches the castle when I barge inside. Lew stands by the stairs with another man. Their stops abruptly when I storm past them, taking two steps at a time as I climb the stairs. Determination pumps in my veins, silencing the quiet voice in my head ordering me to stop and reconsider. The voice sounds a lot like Dante.
I shake my head, pushing away the what-ifs. The door to my bedroom slams shut behind me, and I pull out two suitcases from under the bed and start throwing all my belongings inside. If this won’t force Anatolij to come out of hiding, nothing will. Dante trusted him with my safety. I’m not about to jeopardize it by leaving Moscow, but I need to get Anatolij’s attention somehow.
This, however childish, is my best shot.
No more than ten minutes later, the sound of a suitcase falling down the stairs rumbles in the empty corridors. It’s too heavy for me to carry. Lew glances around the corner, eyebrows drawn together for a second before meeting his hairline. He jumps to the side, avoiding the second flying piece of luggage, then reemerges when it hits the floor with a thud.
“What doing?” he asks, his English nowhere near intermediate level.
I save my breath, descending the stairs in the accompaniment of my heeled boots, clicking loudly. The answer seems to hit Lew across the face. His expression changes to wide eyes and parted lips as he shoves his hand into his pocket, looking for his phone. All the while, he takes one step back for every one of mine taken forward until his back hits the door. He’s a brute of a man with bulky muscles on top of muscles, but I doubt he’ll manhandle me if I try to squeeze past him.
A few seconds pass before two other guards stop on either side of him, walling the door with their oversized bodies. By the look of them, they must think I’m mentally compromised if I think I’ll leave this place. We’ll see who’s right.
Two more seconds pass, and the rule Anatolij imposed on his men when I arrived goes to hell. Lew yells into the small microphone on his cell in Russian, throwing his hands about.
I step off the last step, haul the luggage onto its wheels and pull them behind me, starting in the opposite direction, toward the living room. French doors there will lead me straight into the garden. If only people would stop materializing in my path, that is. Two of Anatolij’s employees appear before me, stealth like ninjas despite their gorilla-like shape. Another one sneaks up on me from behind to snatch the suitcases out of my hands.
I turn back to the two standing in my way. Both bent at their knees, with their hands outstretched to the sides, ready to catch me if I make a run for it. That’s not my intention. I’m a guest here, not a prisoner. I can leave whenever I want, and I’m sure Anatolij wouldn’t dare disagree.
“Waiting,” Lew clips, glaring at me as he froths a little at the corners of his mouth.
Tapping my foot on the concrete floor, I wait for their boss to appear. He does, not even two minutes later.
“Good afternoon,” He joins our little gathering.
“Good indeed,” I say, an unmistakable hint of mockery in my voice. “I’m going back home. Do you mind?”
“I’d consider it unwise.” He dismisses Lew with a wave of his hands, gesturing toward the living room.
I don’t move. Something in his stance tells me his focus is solely on keeping me in the castle and not on answering my questions. “My flight leaves in two hours, and you know how long passport control took when we arrived. I’d rather not be late.”
“Dante won’t be pleased if you leave, Layla.”
No, he probably won’t. “What makes you think he doesn’t know I’m leaving?”
“I spoke to him last night. Besides, he would never agree to you boarding a plane by yourself.”
Things just keep getting better and better. Dante won’t call me but found time for Anatolij? That’s… ugh! I stomp my foot again. “He’ll deal with it. I’ll take his anger over your lies any day of the week.”
“If you leave, you’ll be risking your life. You’re safe here. That should be your top priority right now.”
“The trouble is, I don’t feel safe anymore. You had two days to explain why my mother’s portrait hangs in your office. You chose not to, and so I choose to leave.”
He comes closer, slowly as if approaching a wounded, scared animal. Too many conflicting emotions whirl in his gray eyes to guess which one dominates. “I never lied to you, and I’m not about to start tonight. I will explain. I wanted to explain when you arrived here, but I thought it’d be better if Dante were here.”
A subtle suggestion in his words turns my stomach. “What does Dante have to do with this?”
“I thought you’d find the news less stressful if he’d be with you when we talk. He thought so too.”
“He knows?”
Instead of being annoyed, I’m reassured. There’s no reason to worry if Dante knows what this is about and hasn’t changed his mind about sending me here.
Anatolij glances at his watch, then back at me. “Come on, let’s have a drink.” He extends his hand, waiting for me to take it. “If you still want to go back home once we’re done talking, I’ll personally deliver you back to Dante.”
Mission accomplished.
Instead of taking his hand, I enter the living room, hang my coat on the back of an oversized wingback chair by the fireplace, and sit down, leaning closer to the fire.
Anatolij joins me with two glasses of Port. I’m not a fan of red, but Port tastes like everything that’s right with this world. The atmosphere turns heavy once he sits in the chair opposite mine. His shoulders look unnaturally tense. Nonchalance and a bit of arrogance are the pillars of his personality. Fear is the last thing anyone could accuse him of, yet sitting three feet away from me, he looks anxious.
“When my brother moved to America twenty years ago, he took me with him.” His tone is spiked with hesitance as if he’d never shared this piece of information with anyone before. “He opened a restaurant in Chicago and hired your mother as a waitress. She was fifteen. The most amazing woman I have ever met. Intelligent, beautiful, joyful.”
I cock an eyebrow, calling him out on the blatant lie. “Intelligent? Are you sure you’re talking about Jess? She’s infantile, shallow, and self-righteous.”
Anatolij snorts softly. “She is now, but she wasn’t back then. She was ambitious. I loved that about her.”
A cold sweat slips down my back. I loved that about her is all my mind can focus on. My assumptions were correct—they had an affair. One question remains. How long did it last? Or better yet, is it still happening?
“She was full of passion. She worked two jobs, was at the top of her class, and had her future planned to the smallest detail.”
Whoever he’s describing sounds nothing like the woman who pretended to raise me. “I’m having a hard time believing my mother ever thought about something other than what color lipstick suits her outfit.”
“She might be vain now, but it wasn’t always the case. Even now, I think she still has that spark. She just buried it deep to please Frank. He always was her only weakness.” His expression turns severe. “I can honestly say I have no idea what she saw in him. We met the day Jess started working at the restaurant. He was uncouth, big-headed. He only cared about money and respect.”
That I have no problem believing. Frank hadn’t changed one bit over the years. Until he died, my father had close to zero good qualities. He was one big flaw. A living, breathing proof that evil had a face.
Anatolij downs his port and refills the glass as if there’s no way he can tell me the whole story without liquid courage.
“I guess I know where this is going.” I relax in the chair. “You were in love with her, but she chose Frank.”
He nods, his eyes sad, hinting that the feelings never went away. Otherwise, Jess’s portrait wouldn’t be in his office, where he can see her every day. “I loved her, Layla. She was my little dream. I tried my best to separate her from Frank’s influence. I was sure I succeeded. I was sure she chose me. Frank disappeared out of her life, and we started dating.”
“How long were you dating?”
“Only a few weeks.” He clenches his fist. His jaw ticks as his eyes snap to meet mine, a whole sea of regret in his gray irises. “What you need to know right now is that I’m sorry.”
“Just say what needs to be said, Anatolij. I guess this is not the end of the revelations, so just say it. Did Frank find out about you? Why did you leave her?”
Anatolij sits up, his spine straight as an arrow. “She left me for him, but… she came back one night, crying.” He pauses for a deep calming breath, draining the second glass of port with trembling hands. He’s always an oasis of calmness. This sudden nervousness looks out of place on a man of his importance. “She was pregnant but had no idea which of us was the father.”
Confusion hits me first, right before my heart rate soars. Hundreds of wet centipedes with icy feet crawl under my skin. Childhood memories flash before my eyes, reminding me of the life I was given by a man who took his revenge on my mother for her betrayal.
“She wasn’t sure which of us was the father until you were born,” he continues, his words distant as if spoken through a sheet of thick glass. “There was no need for paternity tests. Your blood type was enough…”
B negative. One of the rarest blood types in the world. Both Frank and Jess are A positive, but… “I inherited my blood type from my grandmother.”
“You can only inherit your blood type from your parents, Layla. Frank and Jess are both A positive. You can’t be a B type from two A type parents… I’m B negative too, baby girl.”
Individual words fail to penetrate my psyche. They stretch, blending into a long, incomprehensible, distorted sound. My lungs stop pumping enough oxygen. I’m breathing too fast, too shallow. Black spots appear before my eyes, and everything mutes as if I’m in a vacuum. All I can focus on are the memories. Every disappointed look on Franks’ face. Every time he screamed. Every time he considered me his enemy. Every time I felt worthless.
“Stop acting like a spoilt brat.”
“Don’t cry; crying is for sissies.”
“I don’t want to hear it.”
“Go to your room.”
“Don’t touch me.”
“You’re just like your mother. Useless.”
“Don’t come crying to me.”
“Get out of my face.”
“I don’t care.”
“It’s your problem. Deal with it.”
“Don’t count on me.”
“You’re on your own.”
His words play in my mind on repeat, echoing in the deepest recesses of my soul, each memory as painful as a cigarette burn. I blamed myself for years, convinced I wasn’t good enough or smart enough to deserve his love. No matter how hard I tried, I was never good enough.
Now, I know why. Frank couldn’t love me.
He couldn’t stand me because I wasn’t his daughter.
I was a burden. A constant reminder of Jess’s affair. A constant reminder of how close he was to losing her. Maybe that’s why he grew to despise her as much as he despised me…
All my life, I looked at Frank and saw the eighth wonder of the world. I spent nineteen years perfecting my personality to please him, but no matter who I became or how I acted, he put me down time and time again. Instead of giving up, I worked harder. I craved the day when he’d be proud to call me his daughter. He couldn’t… He couldn’t be the father I needed because he wasn’t my father.
My mind races to its limits and panic pulls on my throat like tight ropes. I’m choking, struggling to resurface from the pile of unwanted memories. My mind strips me of defense mechanisms and self-worth.
“Layla.”
A familiar voice knocks through my walls. My head snaps in the direction of the door. Only then do I realize that Anatolij crouches before me, his face pale, eyes wide, frightened.
I snap out of the lethargy with two creases on my forehead.
“Breathe, Star,” Dante says, and at the same time, I feel the phone Anatolij presses to my ear.
He squeezes my hand, letting out a shaky breath. “Talk to him. I’ll give you a moment.” He makes sure I have a tight grip on the phone before he marches out of the living room.
“Hey,” I say to Dante as a cool drop falls from my nose to my lips, my face wet with tears. I didn’t realize I was crying.
“You scared me, baby. What happened? Anatolij said he couldn’t get through to you.”
“You knew.” My voice breaks, but the accusation rings clearly. “You knew that he’s my father, and you didn’t tell me.”
“I know. I’m sorry. I should’ve told you, but he wanted to do so himself. I promised not to say anything.”
“Will you be okay?” Anatolij appears in the doorway with three strangers and Lew behind his back. “I have a meeting to attend. It won’t take long. We’ll talk more when I’m done.”
“I’m not going anywhere if that’s what you’re asking.”
A tight nod is his only answer before he leads his guests away, leaving Lew to stand guard outside the living room door. Looks like he doesn’t believe me not to run after all.
“Layla,” Dante says. “How are you feeling?”
I shrug, aware he can’t see it. “Angry. Confused. Sad…”
“Sad?”
A small smile curves my lips. He doesn’t mind my anger. He wouldn’t mind if I screamed or took my frustration and confusion out on him, but sadness? He can’t cope with that. It physically hurts him to know I’m upset.
“I’ll be okay. I just need time. I have so many questions.”
“I’m sure Anatolij will be more than happy to answer them all. He cares about you very much. Let him prove it.”
For the last three weeks, he did his utmost to get to know me, and in that short time, he learned more than Frank did during nineteen years. Anatolij deserves a chance to explain why he wasn’t present in my life. Why he abandoned my mother and me. Why he didn’t fight harder.
“I love you, baby,” Dante says. “I’ll see you very soon.”
The sound of an engine murmuring in the background has me checking the time. It’s two in the afternoon here, which means… “Where are you going at four o’clock in the morning? And how soon is soon?”
A soft chuckle is his first answer. “Good girl. So perceptive. How does fifteen hours sound?”
A full-blown smile stretches my face. “Like the best thing I heard since you told me I’ll be Mrs. Carrow.”
From the corner of my eye, I notice movement in the corridor. Anatolij didn’t lie when he said the meeting wouldn’t take long. I don’t think five minutes have passed yet, but the three strange men are already leaving. One of them looks at me with a small smile. A peculiar feeling passes through me. There’s nothing friendly about his smile.
I don’t have time for a reaction.
I don’t even have time to blink.
He draws a gun, aims it at me, and pulls the trigger. Pain fails to register with me right away while the sound of more gunshots rings in my ears, mixing with Dante’s screams until the phone slips out of my hand.
I double over, pressing my hands against the gaping, bleeding wound on my chest.
