Page 13 of Mistaken
Maksim…
My assistant Alina met me at my private elevator, already holding a pile of paperwork and files for me.
“Pakhan,” she said respectfully, bowing her head, “welcome home. Will you have time to look over and sign some documents for me?”
As the elevator soared up to the 92nd story, I flipped through some of the most urgent documents. “I’ll look these over. In the meantime, I would like you to take my fiancee on a brief tour of the penthouse and get her settled in one of the guest rooms.”
“Of course, Pakhan,” she said, nodding again and stepping aside as the door opened, knowing I always entered first. Behind me, Ella was completely silent, an astonishing thing in of itself.
Ella…
I watched the stranger that held me captive all weekend walk away without a second glance. I stood frozen in the entryway, sixteen-foot ceilings soaring up and over to an entire exterior wall of glass, overlooking the Hudson River. Some kind of black wood flooring glowed in the sunlight.
“Miss Givens? If you will come with me.”
The crisp, no-nonsense tone of Maksim’s assistant made me blink, looking over at her. She was beautiful, of course. Of course. Taller even than my 5”8 with long, blonde hair in a perfect high ponytail, full lips, and blue eyes like ice chips. Her tailored black suit likely cost more than my entire wardrobe. Oh, and gigantic breasts. Why wasn’t that Russian gangster marrying this supermodel? She was right here, the whole time! By the way she was looking me up and down, I had a feeling she was thinking the same thing.
We left the entryway where two hulking guards in good suits that didn’t quite cover a plethora of tattoos stood by the elevator. “Here is the great room…” she was walking and talking with her faint, Russian accent, gesturing right to left like a tour guide at the White House.
“The kitchen is here…” The wood and marble cabinetry and huge island mellowed out all the crisp stainless steel wall ovens, gigantic glass fridge, dishwashers… and a bunch of other appliance-like things that I didn’t even recognize. Also, another guard stationed by a service elevator.
She made a crisp turn into the main hallway, which was bigger than my apartment. There was subtly-lit artwork on the walls; I paused next to one, head tilted. I could swear to god I’d seen this painting at the Metropolitan Museum of Art- a Renoir. Two sisters in summer hats with long, tangled hair; just like every little girl’s hair gets. The oldest is reading to the younger sister and the world around them is dreamy, just swirls of summer color. I’d read a couple of years ago that it had been stolen from the museum. This couldn’t be the same….
“Miss Givens?”
Oooo,I thought bitterly,Alina the Vogue Cover Model is getting impatient.Nonetheless, I followed her numbly down the long hallway as she pointed out several other rooms, pausing by one, and opening the door. Also, more guards. Guard everywhere.
”Here is your room.” She sort of hovered behind me, herding me inside. Another expanse of shining wood floors, twelve feet high windows that looked out over the city, and a fireplace facing the sleek, modern bed. Everything was in grays, blacks, and creams and depressingly sterile.
“Your closet and dressing room…”
“Your bathroom…”
I was tuning her out by now because the whole reality of my morning was building to the point where I was about to crawl under the bed and start howling like a feral cat. Alina glided back to the door, “You will be called for lunch in-” she checked her Gucci watch, “ninety minutes. I will leave you to get settled.”
“Wait, I-”
With a chilly, supercilious smile, Alina closed the door in my face.
Chapter 7 - “Why is he marrying her?”
In which Maksim shows off Ella. To a lot of angry women.
Ella…
I spent my quality alone time silently freaking out, putting a pillow to my face as I screamed, rocking back and forth. “This doesn’t happen in real life,” I keened, sitting on the toilet seat with the fan going and faucet blasting water to drown out the sound of my wailing. Sure, I’d done plenty of terrible things in my life. Every time my big mouth opened, I managed to screw things up. But seriously? How bad does someone have to be for Karma to visit upon them the deeply twisted weekend I just endured and now, the very real possibility that I have to marry him?
When I lost my parents in that accident, I tried to understand it for the longest time. Why them? They were such wonderful parents and kind to everyone. A therapist finally made me see that the adage, “Sometimes bad things happen to good people,” may be trite, but it was also true. There’s no rhyme or reason for why this is happening to me. It’s not because I’m a bad person. It’s just-
A loud knock on my bedroom door halted my negotiations with whatever deity might possibly have been listening and I turned off the water, slinking out of the bathroom as Alina opened the door.
“Perhaps you didn’t hear me knocking, Miss Givens, but it is time for lunch and a meeting with your wedding planner.” She stared at me impassively as I swayed a little.
“Thank you, Alina,” I smiled wide, “I appreciate it.”
When I used to complain to my mom as a child about mean girls at school, she’d always grin and told me to “Kill them with kindness. It will either win them over or confuse them. And either outcome is fun.” I would kill Alina. Kill with kindness, I meant. With kindness.
Leaving my room, I looked down the hall to the imposing double doors at the end. I looked at Alina, who was hovering with a smile that was getting more forced by the second. “What’s behind those doors?”
