Page 20 of Mistaken
“Hey, uh…” I check her nametag,“Teal?I mean, uh, Teal? Please just give my friend her shoes and put them on my tab, okay?”Teal?I thought,there’s a classic stripper’s name.
But she sniffs haughtily and nods to Marla, who smiles at me hopefully. “So, you are coming to the wedding, right? You RSVP’d?”
My smile fades. “I’m so sorry, Marla, I just- everything’s up in the air and my fiancé’s family just flew in and…”
Always the sweetest woman in the lab, she leans forward and hugs me. “I understand. But let’s have coffee soon and I’ll tell you about the new pharmaceutical trial, it’s amazing, the-”
“The L-36 Neurology CaP?” I said wistfully. I was supposed to be the lead on that trial.
“Yep,” she said. “Well, I’ll get my shoes, but you don’t have to pay for them! See you soon.”
I watch Marla and my professional future walk out the door. Just talking to her brought back all my ambitions, my dreams, and how important this pharmaceutical trial was going to be. Six years of graduate school, gone. My Ph.D.? Worthless. All because of this heartless Russian.
I put on dress after dress, nod, and smile mechanically and I have no idea what any of them look like. Tania finally slips into the dressing room after the tenth gown.
“What’s going on? Mentally, you’re not even here.” Her worried face peers over my shoulder in the mirror’s reflection and I slump onto the fancy little chair.
“Will you just… pick something and go out and tell them it’s my favorite? I can’t do this anymore.”
Here’s why she’s my best friend; squeezing my hand, she whispers, “We will talk later, you sneaky little shit. But for now, let’s get you out of here.”
I get out of the lace monstrosity squeezing my ribs and stare at the girl in the mirror. It’s not me. I don’t know who she is.
Maksim…
“Mother. How was it?”
She swept majestically into my office without knocking, as usual. She seats herself on the sofa in front of the fireplace and looks at me meaningfully. Yuri, who was going over some shipping reports with me, coughs to cover his chuckle.
“Would you like a drink, Mother?” I am resigned to this taking as long as she decides it will.
“Why, thank you, darling. Vodka, neat, if you please. That swill they served for champagne is still trying to fight its way back up my throat.”
With a silent groan, I thought of the work piled up and waiting for me, I made drinks for us all. Alina was never in the room during specific discussions between Yuri and me, and I can pour my own damn drinks.
“Your bride-to-be, she’s quite…” she pauses, delicately sipping her drink, and Yuri's amused gaze meets mine. “Quite unusual. Not your type, really, is she darling?”
“Ella is exactly my type when it comes to selecting a wife.”
She’s waiting, I can tell, for me to expand on my statement. But I remain silent, smiling pleasantly.
“She seemed a little despondent toward the end of the fitting,” Mother said, “it took her quite a while to come out of the dressing room.”
“Where is she now?” I asked.
“In her room, I believe,” she rose, straightening her skirt and sauntering toward the door. “Such a mystery, and that accent… I’m quite curious about her history.”
“Mother…” I growled, “she is off limits.”
“Of course, dear.” And she’s gone.
“What’s this about an accent?” Yuri's interested. He was the one who ordered Ella’s background search, there was nothing about a British connection in the report.
“You know how Mother is with accents. She heard a tinge of a British accent when she spoke with Ella, she even narrowed it down to the Midlands, if you can believe that. Ella didn’t look happy about it, but she confirmed she was from Birmingham. I’d planned on having you contact The Creeper again to see how he missed that.”
My personal cell phone rang, and I pinched the bridge of my nose with my thumb and forefinger. It was Sokolov.
“Do you want me to stay?” Yuri asked, though I could tell the little bastard was fighting a grin.
