Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 76915 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 385(@200wpm)___ 308(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76915 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 385(@200wpm)___ 308(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
I felt like crying, standing there, feeling so lost. He leaned over my shoulder. I could feel the heat of him on my back. And then his voice and his breath brushed my neck softly.
“It’s this way, little Mishka,” he said, lifting his arm and pointing forward.
I stepped forward, feeling like a marionette. It was so hard to act like I was normal, or comfortable, but I tried. My legs felt heavy, and each step felt forced.
“You can turn here,” he said behind me, sounding amused. I followed another hallway, walking slowly. It was darker back here, without windows. I had not seen this part of Anton’s wing before.
“This is it. I need to open the door.”
I looked over my shoulder at him, questioningly.
“There’s a code,” he said, with a look on his face that looked suspiciously like he was laughing at me. I stepped back, belatedly realizing he needed to actually get to the keypad. I turned away so he didn’t think I was looking at it.
“After you,” he said, and I turned to see him holding open the door. I looked around in awe. This room was two stories high, with arched windows that soared above, providing ample light. But there was no entrance to the outside here. In fact, the glass looked incredibly thick. I stepped towards it, tilting my head.
“It’s bulletproof,” he said, somehow very close to my ear. I jumped slightly, blushing as I stepped away. I looked around, amazed at the sheer number of books and periodicals. There were shelves of magazines, and a hanging rack that held numerous newspapers, draped over the wood rods like fabric, hanging to be dried. The massive wood desk was ornately carved, with feet that looked like they were talons. Or claws.
Like the man who settled behind the desk, everything in the room was beautiful, over-the-top expensive looking, and incredibly intimidating.
“The vodka is just there,” he said, pointing to a beautiful bar, crafted of gleaming hardwood and inset in the endless rows of bookshelves that lined the walls. There were cabinets, too, and massive easy chairs, as well as a dark leather couch that looked big enough to sleep on. The tones of the room were muted but warm. I imagined an artist would know the names for them, but I did not.
I hurried across the room to pour him vodka. If I wasn’t his servant, I would have asked him how much he drank in a day, but I knew it was not appropriate. I also knew it was a lot.
Too much, even for the Motherland.
“There is ice in the hidden drawer.”
I gave him a questioning look over my shoulder, then looked down.
“It is hidden,” he repeated, laughing at me again. The man seemed to take endless pleasure in mocking me.
I scowled and started testing the panels in front of me, bending forward and eventually kneeling down on the carpet.
“Push harder,” he added helpfully. My scowl intensified. Finally, one of the panels opened, revealing a fridge with water bottles. I had yet to see him take a sip of water. I decided to remedy that. “The other panel,” he said, now openly chuckling.
This time I did turn around to give him a look.
He only laughed harder.
I retried the second panel and found a freezer. There were bottles of chilled vodka, as well as ice. I used pinchers and dropped it into a short glass, then added another oversized cube to a tall drinking glass as well. I poured him vodka, then a glass of water. I carried both glasses to him and set them on marble coasters, already conveniently positioned.
He leaned back in his seat and looked at the glasses, then at me. He raised an eyebrow. I looked back, hiding my trepidation, looking him right in the eyes.
“I didn’t ask for water,” he said, cocking his head to the side and stippling his fingers. I swallowed, then lifted my chin. He stared at me for a long moment. “But I should have some. Thank you for looking out for me, Mishka. I can’t remember the last time someone did that.”
I nearly fell back on my heels. The look in his eyes was sincere. Even vulnerable. I nodded and raced back to the bar to stand, hating my shoes with a violent passion, but feeling somehow… better.
Like I was serving a purpose here.
I waited patiently to pour Anton another drink.
Chapter 11
Anton
She’d brought me water, I thought for the dozenth time as I fastened my tie for dinner. I was dining alone, again. It was nearly two weeks of not leaving the estate now, since Mishka had joined me. It wasn’t as though I didn’t have offers to join friends and sometimes lovers in Moscow for a meal or a night of debauchery. I did. But I was not interested. I had much more interesting things to discover here.