Page 72 of Mistaken
“Sister, dear,” he says, grinning, “would you like me to fetch you some fruit punch and rubbing alcohol? I think it would suit your palate nicely.”
“Hah, ha,brother,”I sneer credibly, taking a glass of white wine from an amused Maksim, “at least I’m a cheap date.”
“This is true,” he chuckles, moving over to make room for me. It’s becoming a familiar triangle; Yuri and I sitting on this comfortable leather couch, Maksim sitting behind his shining mahogany desk.
“You okay, pretty boy?” Yuri's wearing a discreet bandage on his forehead over some stitches.
“Better than that poor soul,” he says, nodding at his brother.
“You know, he wouldn’t even let me numb the wound before I stitched him up?” I say conversationally, “Seriously, what is the point of that?”
They exchange glances, and I can feel the well of pain between them, a deep well from years and years of misery poured into it.
“Are you quite finished taunting me, Ella?” Maksim forces a mood switch, smiling at me.
“Never, Maksim,” I say sweetly. Taking a deep breath, I plunge in. “I know things are bad. Can we talk about it? Maybe I can have some value in problem-solving, maybe I can’t, but…” Floundering a little, “Why not give it a try?”
It’s silent for a moment, just the gentle crackle of the wood in the fireplace, and I stare hopefully at the man who made me marry him. When he shakes his head, I know it’s useless. I’m apparently useless.
“Nothing to worry about, darling. We’re taking care of it,” Maksim says.
“Just don’t worry my pretty little head?” I finish my glass of wine and place it carefully on the sideboard, fingers trembling with the urge to throw it at him. “I’ll leave you two to get back to business.”
Yuri's mouth opens, I know he wants to say something. But looking at the giant Russian monolith behind the fancy desk, he closes it again, lifting his drink as a farewell.
Don’t slam the door, Ella. You’re better than that,I think, wanting desperately to storm back in and sweep all the expensive crystal on his sideboard off in a deeply satisfying crash.
But I don’t.
Before I go to bed, I’m about to make my fruitless daily call to Tania when I see four missed ones from her.
“Tania?” I whisper the minute she picks up. “Are you okay?”
“I will be,” she sighs. “Girl, I’m so sorry for just disappearing. I’m sorry I left you on your own.”
“It doesn’t matter,” I’m shaking my head, even though of course she can’t see me. “As long as we’re still friends.”
She laughs, her hoarse chortle that always makes me laugh, too. “Are you kidding? Babe, I’m your emotional support animal, remember? You’re not getting rid of me so easily.”
We talk for hours, I’m curled up in the comfy spot in our fancy dressing room. About the New Year’s Eve party. About gunfire and dead bodies. How everything can change in a second in our lives and we are helpless to do anything about it. And then, about the latest stupid thing her boss said, about my weird fortune told in St. Petersburg, but not falling through the ice because she’s not ready to hear about it and I’m not ready to tell it.
By the time we hang up with mutual and multiple “Goodbye, I love you’s,” it’s four am. And the bed is empty, except for me.
Chapter 20 – Club Bad Juju
In which Ella finds family, betrayal, and danger. In that order.
Maksim…
“You’ll have to tell her eventually.”
“Exactly who do you work for, brother?” I growl, not in the mood for Yuri's prodding and still seeing Ella’s expression as she left the office.
“You’re just going to wait until it’s time to stuff Mariya into a wedding dress?”
“This is a good match,” I snap, pouring another drink. Rotating my shoulders, my mouth tightens at the stab of pain. “Mariya will finish school, the Turgenevs are quite liberal under Alexi’s control, she might even attend college before they marry.”
“We always said we would never be like our father,” he persisted, and I gritted my teeth.
