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PublishedbyDarkMistPublishing,LLC
CoverDesign:To.All.The.Books.I.LoveGraphics
Editing:TelltailEditingandChloeLProofreader
Allrightsreserved
Nopartofthispublicationmaybereproduced,distributed,ortransmittedinanymannerwithoutthepriorwrittenpermissionofthecopyrightowner,exceptinthecaseof briefquotationsembodiedincriticalreviewsandcertainothernoncommercialusespermittedbycopyrightlaw.
Thisisaworkoffiction Anyreferencestohistoricalevents,realpeople,orrealplacesareusedfictitiously Names,characters,andplacesareproductsoftheauthor’s imagination
Formoreinformation: wwwkatimcraecom
To all the women who remember the obsession of young love.
AboutThisBook
ContentWarnings
PronunciationGuide
1.Chapter1
2 Chapter2
3.Chapter3
JournalEntry1
4.Chapter4
5 Chapter5
6.Chapter6
JournalEntry2
7.Chapter7
JournalEntry3
8.Chapter8
JournalEntry4
9.Chapter9
10 Chapter10
11.Chapter11
JournalEntry5
12.Chapter12
13 Chapter13
14.Chapter14
15 Chapter15
16.Chapter16
17.Chapter17
JournalEntry6
18.Chapter18
19.Chapter19
20.Chapter20
21.Chapter21
22.Chapter22
23.Chapter23
24 Chapter24
25.Chapter25
26.Chapter26
27.Chapter27
28.Chapter28
29.Chapter29
Letter1
30.Chapter30
31.Chapter31
32.Chapter32
Letter2
33 Chapter33
AlsobyKatiMcRae
Acknowledgements
Let'sConnect
AbouttheAuthor
About This Book Do you know what you do to me, Willow Baker? My thoughts of you are turning into obsession Your appetites are dark, and you crave someone who is not afraid to go to the most depraved depths of human desire. Which is why I want you to run from me, not toward me I want you to fear me. I want you to know the darkest parts of me because only then will you truly be mine. Run, malishka Because when I catch you, I will never let you go
Afterhermotherpassesaway,Willow issenttolivewithherfather,aU.S.AmbassadortoasmallnationineasternEurope. Angryatherdadforchasingacareeroverhisfamily,Willow feelslikeshe’slivinginastranger’shomeinanevenstranger countrywithrisingpoliticaltensions
Aleksandr Kurochkinis the charmingandmysterious sonofAndarusia’s president.Atschool,he’s knownas Prince Alek, and he rules the students and staffwithanironfist He and his friends zero inonWillow as their nexttarget, butwhenshe pushesbackagainsttheirbullying,theiranticsescalatewithdangerousconsequences.
Despitehisfather’swarningtostayawayfromWillow,Alek’scuriositytowardherquicklyturnsintoforbiddenobsession. AndWillowwilldiscoverthelinesbetweenloveandfearareoftenthesame
Please check the author’s website for TWs: www.katimcrae.com/content-warnings
Content Warnings Love to Fear You isadark,bullyromance Thisbookisintendedforaudiencesagedeighteenandolder
Some of the characters are as young as seventeen years old, including the lead characters, and they engage in graphic situationsinvolvingsexandviolence Ifthatmakesyouuncomfortable,thisstorymaynotbeforyou
Love to Fear You isaworkoffiction,andIdonotcondoneorglorifytheactionstakenbythecharactersinthisnovel.
Someofthecontentinthisbookmaybetriggeringforsomereaders.Triggerwarningsinclude:
Abuseofteenminors,bloodplay,bullying,classwarfare,death&murder,deathofaparent,depression,dubiousconsent& non-consensual sex, exhibitionism/voyeurism, graphic &offensive language, graphic sex, graphic sexinvolvingteenminors, graphic violence, group sex, humiliation & degradation, kidnapping, knife & gun play in sexual situations, knife & gun violence, primal kink, political unrest, racism, revenge porn, stalking, terminal illness, underage drinking& smoking, vivid suicidalideations.
NOTE: All referencestoteenminorsandunderageactivitiesinvolvecharactersnoyounger thantheageofseventeen Sex occursbetweencharacterswhenoneisseventeenyearsold(aminor)andtheotheriseighteenyearsold(anadult).
Contentwarningsforthisbookcanalsobefoundontheauthor’swebsite:www.katimcrae.com/content-warnings
Bullyingcanhappenat anyage inmanydifferent forms If youor a loved one are a victimof bullyingor cyberbullying (including revenge porn), please visit: https://www.cybersmile.org/advice-help for a list of resources, including suicide prevention
Bullyingisnotokay.Youareimportant,youareloved,andyourmentalhealthmatters.
Pronunciation Guide Andarusia: Fictional country in eastern Europe
AmericanPronunciation:“and-uh-ROO-zhuh”
RussianPronunciation:“ahnd-ah-ROOSH-yeh”
Otets: Father (formal)
RussianPronunciation:“ah-TEE-yets”
Mat’: Mother (formal)
RussianPronunciation:“MA-ch”
Malishka: Little Girl or Baby (term of endearment for a significant other) RussianPronunciation:“MAH-lish-kah”
Nazdorovie: To Health/Cheers (when making a toast)
RussianPronunciation:“nahzda-ROVH-yeh”
Piroshki: Hand pies with savory or sweet filling RussianPronunciation:“puh-RAASH-kee”
Khuy: Curse word meaning “dick.” Used in multiple contexts. RussianPronunciation:“WHO-ee”
Chapter 1 Willow
“Fuck,thatfeelssogood ” “Shhh.”
Hishot,wetbreathhuffsagainstmypalmasIpickupthepace Archingmyback,Ithrustmyhipsforwardtotryadifferent angle,butit’snouse.
I’mtoonumbtofeelanything
We’ve been in this position for four minutes, and even with the extended pleasure condom, this guy is on the verge of blowinghisload
I wouldn’t call this fun, but I’mnot ready for it to end. Because the moment it does, reality settles in and threatens to suffocateme.
AloudgruntfillsthemustycabasChad or is it Brad? driveshimselfupward,pausingatthetop Hisexpressiontwists intoanunflattering“O”facebeforeheslumpsontheseat.
Iguesswe’redonehere
I climb off and settle beside him, shoving his legs out of the way. Empty beer bottles and used gym socks litter the floorboardsamongoldfoodwrappers,alongwithmypanties
Onsecondthought,Idon’twantthemback.IsmoothmyT-shirtdressdownovermylowerhalfbeforeastraycrumbcanfind itswayintomyasscrack.
Bradsitsuponhiselbowswithalazygrin “Goddamn,thatwasgood Ineededthat” Ireachdownformysandals,whichrestatopthedebris.
“Hey,Iknowyou’renotlookingforstrings,”hesays,“butifyouwannahookupagain,hitmeup” Ugh,herewego.
“Look,Brad,I’msureyou’regreat ” “Actually,it’sChad.”
“Sorry.I’msureyou’regreat,butthisisaone-timething.I’mmovingawaytomorrow.”
Hesitsupalittlestraighter,withdisappointmentetchedonhisall-Americanface “Wait,you’removing?Where?” “ToAndarusia.”
“Oh,cool”Henodshishead,althoughtheblankexpressiononhisfacetellsmehehasnoideawhereAndarusiais “Isn’t yourdadanambassadorthereorsomething?” “Yeah.”
Since I’mstill seventeen, custodygoes to mydad who lives onthe other side ofthe world ina small, easternEuropean country no one’s ever heard of. He and my momdivorced when I was four, and I only see himwhen he comes home for Christmas
AtleastIgotacardstuffedwithcasheveryyearformybirthday.
The look settlesoverChad’sface theonepeopleplasteronwhenthey’reuncomfortablewithgrief “I,uh,heardaboutyourmom.Sorryforyourloss.”
“Spareme.”I’msickofclichécondolencesandpityparties.
Thatfamiliarlumpformsinmythroatagain,therocknowpermanentlylodgedinmyesophagus Ihaven’tbeenabletotakea fullbreathinweeks.
ButI’velearnedhowtodistractmyselffromgrief TheguidancecounselortoldmeIhaveunhealthycopingmechanisms,but sheranoutofpamphletsaboutusingriskybehaviorstoavoidproblems.
“Let’sthrowasendoffpartytonight,”Isay “Invitetheteamtomyhouseandbringakeg We’llhavefun”
I’vealreadymademywaythroughhalfthehighschool football team.Statistically,oneofthemshouldbeabletomakeme come.Hell,theycaneventaketurns.
AslongasIdon’thavetobealoneinthatemptyhousetonight
They call me Willow the Nympho at school. The entire senior class knows I’m always down for a blow job behind the bleachersoraquickieintheboys’bathroom.
Ihavealotofsex,andI’mgoodatit Itmakesmepopularwiththeguys Withthegirls,notsomuch Emily said her boyfriend gave her chlamydia after sleeping with Willow. Watch your boyfriends because Willow doesn’t care if they’re taken Nasty slut I heard she took two dicks at once. How does that even work?
Fortherecord,Idon’thavechlamydia.
Iwasn’talways Willow the Nympho.Until lastyear,these jocks didn’tevenknow myname because Ikepttomyself.My nosewasalwaysinabook.Igotgoodgradeslikegoodgirlsdo.
ThenMomgotsick
Theinsurancecoveredapart-timenurse,butwhenIgothomefromschool,therestfellontome. Beingacaregiverforalovedonesucksthesouloutofyou Timeisnolongeryourown,andyourlifebecomesarevolving doorofmedications,urinebags,andspongebaths.
Andifyoufuckup,youworsentheircondition orkillthem.
Aseventeen-year-oldisn’tequippedtodealwiththat.
Ihada front-row seattoMom’s cancer.Iwatchedher wither awayintoa ghostofher former self,andthe transformation wasswiftandpainful
It’shardtoremembertheversionofmymompre-cancer.WhenIthinkofmymothernow,allIseeishergray,lifelesscorpse beforetheyliftedthesheetoverherhead animagepainfullytattooedonmybrain Momwas vibrantand brightonce, and whenshe walked into a room, the clouds parted to letthe sunshine in. She was a strong,singlemother,givingmetheloveoftwoparentstomakeupforDad’sabsenceaftertheirdivorce.Herandmeagainst theworld.
Butoverthepastyear,thosememoriesbegantofadeliketheburningendofacigarette,disappearinglittlebylittleuntilall thatremainedweretheashesofthewomanIonceknew
Andintheprocess,Ibecameanemptyshellofmyselfwithnothinglefttogive.
The first time I had sex, I forgot about medicationschedules and oxygentanks and the smell of sickness lingeringinthe house.Theescapewasfleeting,butitmademerealizeIwasfloatingthroughmylife,disconnectedfromeverythingaroundme. Losingmyselfinphysicalpleasurebecamemysolace.
Now,sexistheonlytimeIfeelremotelyconnectedtoanotherhumanbeing BecausetheonepersonIeverlovedisgone.
Eventhoughitwas onlya few days ago,Idon’tremember muchfromMom’s funeral The service andsubsequentreception passedbyinablur.Mydadtookcareofalltheplanningandputtingthe“estateinorder,”whateverthatmeans. Buthedidn’tbothertocome.Hewasabouttogivemeanotherlameexcuseinvolvingwork,butIhungupthephonebefore hecould.
Isatinthisexactspotonthesofaaspeoplecameuptomeofferingcondolences,butthat’sthelastthingyouwantwhena lovedonedies.Everytimesomeonesays, I’m so sorry for your loss,itreopensthewoundalloveragain.It’scruel,butpeople areexpectedtosayitanyway
Tonight,thehouseisfullofpeopleagain,butthistimeit’sforapartyinsteadofawake.Overtwodozenjocksarecrowded intomylivingroom,andabeerpongtournamentisunderwayusingfoldingtablessomeonebrought Oneofthemsetupafull soundsysteminthecorner,thewallsshakingwiththehip-hopbass.
It’sMarch,butthey’restilltalkingabouthow wealmostwonthechampionshipsinDecember HereinConroe,Texasonly threethingsmatter:God,family,andfootball.Inthatorder. AndI’mlackingfaithinallthree.
Thecaptain,Tyler,plopsdownbesidemeonthesofa Eachhandisfistingaredplasticcup,andhepassesonetome “ToyourlastnightinConroe.”Hetapshisdrinkagainstmine. Iraiseittomymouthandcatchawhiffofthecheapale Itsmellslikecaturine,butIholdmybreathanddownthecontents anyway.
Tyler smacks his lips whenheswallows Heflings his armaroundmyshoulders andscanstheemptylivingroom “Looks likeyou’realreadypackedup.Wherewasityou’regoingagain?” “Andarusia.ButonlyuntilIturneighteen.” “Andthenyou’recomingbacktoTexas?” “Hellno,”Iscoffbeforetakinganothersip. IjustneedtomakeittoJunewhenI’llbealegaladult Afterthat,noonecanforcemetostayinasmall,easternEuropean countrynoone’severheardof.
“You’regoingtomisssomuchofsenioryear,”Tylersays.“Whataboutpromandgraduation?” Iraiseaneyebrow.“Seriously?Whocares?”
Mywordsmakehimflinch.Ofcourse,thosethingsmattertohim.Hislifegoalistobecomepromkingbecausehewon’taim higher He’ll peakinhighschool andspendtherestofhislifestuckinnostalgia,nodoubtstill braggingaboutthatlegendary touchdowntwentyyearsfromnow.
Hedoesn’trealizethejuvenilepompandcircumstancedoesn’tmatter Nothingmatters “Well,we’llmissyou,”hesays.“Whatwillwedoforentertainmentaroundhere?” Ilaughagain, butthis time it’s hollow. Mygraduatingclass won’tremember me as anythingbesides Willow the Nympho, reducedtotheplaythingofthefootballteam.Likeausedtoybeingpassedarounduntiltheygrowbored.
Mytaintedlegacyshouldbotherme,butitdoesn’t.I’mnevercomingbackherebecausethere’snothinglefttoreturnto. “I’msureyourgirlfriendwillkeepyoucompany”
Tylernuzzleshisnoseintomyhair.“Butshedoesn’tfuckthewayyoudo.”
Heleansawaytochugtherestofhisdrinkbutkeepshisarmwrappedaroundmyshoulderslikeheownsme Whenthebeer isgone,hetossesthecuptothefloor,andIopenmymouthtotellhimnottotreatmyhouselikeatrashcan.
Butwhatdoesitmatter?After tomorrow,I’ll never stepfootinthishouseagain.Mydad’slistingitfor sale,andhehired cleanerswhowillcomeanderaseanyevidenceofmyexistence OfMom’sexistence “Whatdoyousaywegoupstairs?”hesaysinalowvoice.
Upstairs,whereanemptybedroomwaitsforme WheremyHarvarddreamboardandfamilyphotographsarepackedaway intoboxes,leavingthewallsbare.Wheremystuffedanimalsandotherchildhoodbelongingsarecrammedintogarbagebagsto betakenoutwiththetrash
Iknockbacktherestofthecup,finishingmybeerwithanunsatisfiedsigh.Tossingitbehindme,Iswingmylegaroundto straddleTyler’slap.
“Orwecouldstayrighthere,”Isay
WhenIgrindmyhipsagainsthim,hiseyesgrowhooded,andhisdickjumpstoattentionwiththesmallestamountoffriction. Acoupleofguyswhoopandhollerbehindme “Oh,shit,thisparty’sabouttogetreal!” “Yougonnaletustaketurns,Willow?”
Itossmyhairbackandglanceovermyshoulder,givinghimacoysmile “Stickaroundandfindout”
Tylerfumbleswiththebuttonofhispants.MypantiesarelongforgotteninthebackseatofChad’spickup,sowhenhiscock springsfree,itslidesagainstmyopening.
Withoutwaiting,hethrustsupward,shovinghimselfinsidewithagroan He’sbigger thanChad,somaybeI’ll gettocome tonight,afterall.
DozensofeyesareonmybackasIslideupanddownTyler’slength Theatmosphereoftheroomshifts,growingthickeras hungry,hornyteenagersgatheraroundtowatchtheshow.
Vanillasexboresmenow;ithasforawhile.Sexislikeadrug IneedmoreandmoreeachtimeItakeahittofeelhigh.I likepushingtheboundariesofdeviantsexualbehavior,takingjustalittlemorefromtheseguyswitheveryencounter.
Because this iswhatIneed.
Myarousal seeps downthe lengthofTyler’s cock, lubricatinghis movements as he drills harder and faster into me. His fingersarediggingintomyassthroughthefabricofmydress,guidingmeasIrockagainsthimandchasethatelusive,delicious pleasure
EverytimeIcomedown,myskinmeetshiswithanobscenesound.
Myeyesdriftupward,aboveTyler’shead,attheblankwallbehindthesofa Untilyesterday,acollageframewithphotosof Momandmefromvariousstagesofmychildhoodhungthere.
It’s gone, but the reminder is still outlined ina thinlayer of dust where the frame sat And the large, emptyspace might swallowmewholeifIstareatitlongenough.
Ipeerovermyshoulderandmakeeyecontactwithoneoftheonlookers.“You.Comehere.”
Hehesitates,lookingatouraudiencebeforeinchingforward ButIdon’thavetimeforhissuddenonsetofshyness,nordoI care.
Grabbinghis hand,Ibringitupandplaceitaroundmyneck He’s standingatmybackas IrideTyler,andhis fingers are shaking.
“Chokeme”
“W-What?”hesputters.
Someoneletsoutalowwhistle,andacoupleofguysstartwhisperingtooneanother. “Isaid,chokeme”
Myfingerscloseoverhishand,forcinghimtoapplypressuretomyneck. “Areyousure?”heasks,hisvoicejumpinganoctave ”Yes,I’msure.Now fucking choke me. ”
IpressdownonhishanduntilI’msatisfiedheunderstands.MyhipscontinuetogyrateagainstTylerasIchasemyrelease, andwithahandwrappedaroundmyneck,it’swithinreach.
Closingmyeyes,Iforgettheemptywallandlosemyselftotheonslaughtofsensation.ThewayTyler’sshaftcreatesfriction againstmyclit Howdarknessplaysattheedgesofmyconsciousnesswhenmybreathingiscutoff Yes,I’mclose.I’mso,soclose.
ThisishowIwantit rawand filthy It’snotnormalteenagebehavior,butI’mnotanormalteenager. I’magirlwhohadtogrowuptoofuckingfast.
Chapter 2 Willow TheonlyfamilyIhaveleftnowismyfather,althoughcallinghimfamilyisastretch. He’smoremyspermdonorthananything.Hewasn’taroundmuchwhenIwasachildbecausehewasoffpursuinghiscareer withtheDepartmentofState,risingintheranksuntilhelandedanambassadorpositioninAndarusia
Noone wants togotoAndarusia.It’saplaceyougotopayyourduesbeforelandinganinfluentialambassadorshipinJapan oracushypostinTheBahamas
ThiscountryissofarawayfromTexasittookfourseparateflightstogethere.TheairportinOlininburg,thecapital,issmall butclean There’sonlyoneterminal,anditisn’tbusy ThesignsaretranslatedintoEnglishfromRussianandGerman,soit’s easytofindmywaytobaggageclaim.
Peoplewaitontheothersideofthesecuritygatefornewarrivalpassengers.Ilookformydad,butIglossoverhimtwice beforerecognizinghim
Hishairhasasaltandpepperhuetoit,thoughit’sheavieronthesalt.Hedidn’tcomehomeforChristmaslastyear,sohis agingismorepronounced ButheisleanerthanIremember,andhismusclesaremoredefined Ifhewasn’tsuchaworkaholic, I’dsayhe’sbeengoingtothegym.
Ew Who’shetryingtoimpress?He’salmostfifty Whenwemakeeyecontact,hisbrowneyeslightup.“Willow!”Hewavesatmewithabroadgrinonhisface.
Idon’treturnhissmile.
When I make it to the other side of the gate, he comes forward to wrap his arms around me I stand motionless in his embrace.
Heclearshisthroatandstepsaway “Comeon,kid Let’sgrabyourbags”
We find mybaggage carousel, butittakes a while for the luggage to arrive. Alongmomentofawkward silence stretches betweenus,andIwaitwithmyarmsfoldedacrossmychest.
“So…”hesays,“Howwastheflight?” “Long.”
“Anyissues?ItriedbookingyoualongerstopoverinDublinbutcouldn’t” “It’sfine.”
Henods “Okay That’sgood” Silenceagain.
Hecluckshistongue.“Well,Ithinkyou’regoingtoloveAndarusia.” “Idoubtit.”
Thatshutshimupuntilthebagsarrive.Mineisoneofthefirstoffthecarousel,andIreachtograbitbeforehecanhelpme.I pullthehandleupandrollitafewstepsaway Hestaresatmybag,tiltinghishead.“Wait,that’sit?That’sallyoubrought?” “Yeah”Ifoldmyarms
Hegrabsthesuitcasehandleforme.“Wecangoshoppingthisweekendifyou’dlike?” “I’mfine.Canwejustgonow?I’mfuckingexhausted.”
HerecoilswhenIcurse,andthoughhislipssetintoathinline,hedoesn’tsayanything Withoutanother word, he leads me outside toward the pickup area. Ablastofcold air hits me whenwe head throughthe automaticdoors,andIstickmyhandsintothefrontpocketsofmysweatshirt Thechillpiercesthroughmyjoggersandraises goosebumpsonmyskinfromheadtotoe.Ishudder.ComparedtosouthTexas,thisweatherisinhospitableforhumanlife. Lookingoutbeyondtheairportisalargeexpanseofflat,openfieldsoftallgrass Therearenomountains,andIcan’tmake
outanycitiesorvillagesfromhere.
Somehow,I’vewoundupinthemiddleofnowhereineasternEurope.Andit’scoldasfuck.
Myeighteenthbirthdaycan’tcomefastenough BecauseassoonasI’malegaladult,I’mgettingthehelloutofhere I’mnot surewhereI’llgo,butanywhereisbetterthanthisplace.
Carsandtaxiszippastthecurbatfull speedalongthethoroughfare,andIimaginethrowingmyselfintothestreet Noone wouldhavetimetoreact,andallitwouldtakeisonecartoputmeoutofmymisery.I’dbedeadonimpact,sothepainwould onlylastforasplitsecond
Unlessitdidn’tkillme.Maybeitwouldjustmaimmeorturnmeintoavegetablefortherestofmylife.
Mydadleadsmeovertoablacktowncarwaitingatthecurb.Awell-dresseddriverexitsfromthedriver’sseatandcomes aroundtoopentherearpassengerdoor
“WelcometoAndarusia,miss,”hesaysinanaccentedvoice.Hetipshishatatmeandsmiles.
The bestIcanmanage is to grimace athimbefore slidinginto the backseat Atleastthe heatis turned up, whichstarts to thawthedeepchillinmybody.
Onceeveryonesettlesintothevehicle,thedriverpullsintothestreet Soon,theairportbeginstodisappearbehindusinthe rearviewmirror.
“ThisisIvan,”mydadsays.“Ivan,thisismydaughter,Willow.”
“It’sapleasuretomeetyou,MissWillow,”hesays “Mr Bakerhasbeenpreparingforyourarrivalforweeks” Iturnmyicystareontomyfather,andhissmilefaltersattheexpressiononmyface.
“So,whileIwasattendingMom’sfuneral whichyoudidn’tevenbothertocometo youwerehere,happilyplanningour newlivestogether?”
“Willow,honey ” “Don’t‘honey’me.Youhaven’tearnedthatright.”
Hismouthsnapsshut,andIturnmyheadtostareoutthewindowatthedull,flatlandscape.
The rest of the car ride passes in silence When we reach the outskirts of Olininburg, the flatlands give way to austere Soviet-erahousingblocks,aseaofconcreteagainstagraysky. There’snothingwelcomingaboutit Evenpeoplewalkingthestreetsseemtohateithere Wepassoverabridge,whereariverlinedbytreesseparatesthehavesfromthehave-nots.Infact,I’dsaywepassedintoa differentcountryifIdidn’tknowanybetter.
WhenIimaginedthequintessentialEuropeantown,itlookedsomethinglikethis.Nineteenth-centuryGermantownhomesline eachside ofthe street,withflowerpots adorningthe tidyfrontstoops.The car navigates througha roundaboutsurroundinga massive,ornatefountain
Peopleonthissideoftherivercarrythemselvesadifferentway.Theydon’tlookbeatdownandweary.
The car pulls up to the curb infrontofa residence, whichis the corner propertyatthe end ofa longrow ofTudor-style cottages. My father is the first out of the car. I grab my purse and follow his lead, and Ivan unloads my suitcase onto the sidewalk.
“We’lltakeitfromhere,”mydadtellshim “Enjoytherestofyourday”
“Thankyou,sir.”Ivanbowshisheadtowardmyfatherbeforegivingmeafriendlysmile,thendisappearsintothetowncar. My dad reaches for my suitcase and rolls it through the short iron gate marking the edge of the property The lawn is immaculatewithevenlycutgrassandbright,floweringshrubs.Itstrikesmeasmoreofasuburbanfamilyhomethanabachelor pad
“Ihadanextrasetofkeysmade,”hesays,slippinghisownintothedoor.“I’veleftthemonthekitchentableforyou.” I’mnotsurewhatIwasexpectingmyfather’shometolooklike,butIthoughtitwouldfeelmorefamiliar.Liketherewould be masculine touches ofhimthroughoutthe house Instead,it’s decoratedwithcountry-style furniture inshades ofpastel and floral. Artworkdepictingvarious pastoral scenes hangfromthe walls, and a citrusyaroma lingers inthe air. It’s cozyand lived-in
I’minastranger’shouse,anditstrikesmehowlittleIknowmyfatheratall.
“Wouldyoulikethetour?”heasks
“No.Ijustwanttobeleftalone.”Travelingfortwodaysthroughmultipleairportshasmademegrungyandjet-lagged. “I’llshowyoutoyourroom,then.”
Heleadsmeupanarrowstaircasetothesecondfloor Atthetopofthestairssitsawoodenconsoletablewithphotoframes ondisplay mostofthemofme.
It’sstrangetoseemybeamingfaceintheseforeignsurroundings Myphotographslookoutofplacehere “Myroomisattheendthere.”Henodsdownanarrowhallway.“Yourroomishere,nexttoGalina’s.” “Who’sGalina?”Iask.
“She’sthehousekeeper.” “Andsheliveshere?”
“Yes.She’snice.I’msureyou’llgetalongwithher.”
He rolls the suitcase across the hardwoodfloors andthroughthe door intomybedroom.Ididn’texpectmuchmore thana spareguestroom,sincemydadonlyhadthreeweeks’noticeofmyarrival,leavinghimlittletimetoprepareforateenagegirl
Butthebedroomisdecoratedwithfeminine,Frenchfurnishingsinshadesofpastel pinkandcream.Amakeuptablesitsin thecornerwithacushionedstool,andthebedhasgauzylinenhangingfromtheceilingasaheadboard Flowerssitinavaseon thenightstand,andwhenItouchthem,thevelvetypetalsarefreshanddelicate.Iexpectedthemtobefake.
“The bathroomis across the hall,” mydad says “I, uh, guess I’ll leave youto it Galina usuallyhas dinner readyaround seven,butifyougethungrybeforethen,justletherknow,andshecanwhipupasnack.”
“Yeah,okay.”
Ifoldmyarmsandwaitforhimtoleave Heopenshismouthlikehewantstosaysomethingelse,butheshakeshisheadand leaveswithoutanotherword.
After myshower, Ilayinmynew bed, exhausted butunable to sleep The unfamiliar surroundings are unsettling, and it’s keepingmeonedge.
Junecan’tcomefastenough
Idon’twanttoopenthedoortomybedroom Thisroomfeelsfarfromasafehaven,butifIleave,Ihavetofacemyfatherand meetthehousekeeper,who’satotalstranger.Idon’thavetheenergyforthat,butmystomachisgrowling,andhungerwinsout overhidinginmyroom.
Ihaven’tunpackedmybag,soIgrabthefirstsetofclothes ontopandpull themon.Underneathis aphotoofMomanda youngermefromourvacationinSanDiego,smilingwithoutacareintheworldwiththesunnybeachasourbackdrop. Isettheframedphotoonthevanity,andit’smyfirststepsettlingintothisplace Theroomshouldfeellikemine,evenifit’s onlyforabriefstay.
Peekingmyhead out the door, I find the hallwayempty Laughter trickles fromdownstairs, so I follow the voices to the kitchen.
There’sapetitewomanwithmousybrownhair standingatthestovewithher backtome.Myfather isbesideher,leaning againstthecounterwithamugofcoffeeinhishand.
Iclearmythroat,andmydadtearshiseyesfromhiscompanionwithastart.Whenheseesmestandingintheentryway,he straightensupandhastilystepsawayfromher “Ah,thereyouare,”hesays.“Galina,thisismydaughter,Willow.Willow,meetGalina.”
Thewomanturnsawayfromthestoveandwipesherhandsonherapron Herbrowneyesarekind,andsheapproachesme withagenuinesmile.IfIhadtoguess,I’dsayshe’sinherlatetwenties.
“Hello,”shesays,extendingherhandtowardme.“IamGalina.Itisnicetomeetyou.” HerliltingvoiceholdsathickRussianaccent Iacceptherhandshake,butallIcanmusterisaclose-lippedgrimace “WeareveryhappytowelcomeyoutoOlininburg,”shecontinues.“Youwillloveithere.” “Doubtful”
Hersmilefalters,butsherecoversquickly.“Areyouhungry?IhavepreparedanAmericanfeastforyou,butIwillintroduce youtoAndarusiancookingverysoon” Inodmyhead.
“Howaboutwetakeaseatatthetable?”myfathersuggests.“Willow,wouldyoulikesomethingtodrink?” “Justwater”
“Iwillgetthat,David.”Sheshooshimawayfromthecupboard.“Gositdown.” There’ssomethingabouttheirfamiliaritythatirksme Mydadgrinsatherbeforeusheringmetothediningroom,whichhas awindowoverlookingthefrontyard.
“Isyourroomcomfortable?”heasks,takingaseatacrossfrommeatthetable
“Galinaworkedhardtodecorateitforyou” “It’sfine.”
Hewaitsformetoelaborate,butwhenIdon’t,wefallintoanuncomfortablesilence.
HisfacerelaxeswhenGalinawalksintothediningroomwithacasseroledish
Shesetsitdownandmakesacouplemore
trips,andsoonwaytoomuchfoodcrowdsthetable.
“Macaroniandcheese,”shesays,pointingitout.“Potroastwithcarrots,andsourdoughbread.Andofcourse,bakedbeans.” It’s anoddchoiceofsides,whichmakes mewonder ifshedidaninternetsearchfor Americanfoodandgrabbedthefirst recipestopopup.
Galinatakesaseatbesidemydad,andtheybothlookatmewithexpectantlooks “ItoldGalinahowmuchyoulikemacandcheese.”
“Imean,IlikeditwhenIwasfour,”Isay Hisshoulderssagalittle,andhegivesGalinaanapologeticsmile.Butmyremarkgoesrightoverherhead,andshepushes thedishclosertome.
“Goahead Eat”
She waits for myreactionlike I’mabout to opena Christmas present. I scoop a spoonful of the macaroni onto myplate beforetakingabite
Iswallow.There’ssomethingaboutgriefthatturnsfoodtoashinyourmouth.
“It’sgood,”Isaytogethertostopstaring Butsheclapsherhandstogetherindelight,sharingasmilewithmydad
Onceeveryonehasfilledtheirplates,wespendafewmomentsinsilencewhilewesamplethefood.
“Oh,Willow,Ihavegoodnews,”mydadsays.“Galinaisgoingtotakeyoudressshoppingtomorrow.”
Great Forced “fun ” “Why?”Iask.
“ThepresidentofAndarusiaishostinghisannualAmbassadors’Dinnerathisestate Itwillbeagoodopportunitytomeeta fewofthekidsatyournewschool.”
Igivehimanunenthusiasticgruntinresponse.
“Youmightevenmakeanewfriend,”headds.“Andyou’llgettodressupandmeetsomeimportantpeoplefromaroundthe world.”
“I’drathereatsand”
Hiseyetwitches,andhelookslikehe’sabouttosaysomething.Isilentlydarehimto.
Mydad’sfailuresasaparentmakealonglist,whichI’mpreparedtoreciteforhimatanymoment ThelastthingIwantisa lectureonmybadattitude.
Buthedoesn’tsayaword.Iignorehimandfocusonmyfood,andwecontinuetheremainderofourmealinsilence.
Chapter 3 Willow ThePresident’sEstatesitsonthewealthysideofOlininburg,withhundredsofacresofpropertynestledalongtheoutskirts oftown.Ivanturnsthecarintoadrivewayoffthemainroad,whichislinedbythickforest.
Butit’sfarfromquiet Asmallcrowdofpeopleisgatheredalongtheedgeoftheroadcarryingsigns,butIdon’tunderstand whattheysay.SomeofthemappeartobeRussian,butmost,ifIhadtoguess,arewritteninGerman.
Ipressmynosetotheglass,andImakeeyecontactwithoneofthewomen,whosebreathfogsinthecoldair Herexpression ishardened,staringmedownasweturnintothedriveway.
“Whataretheyprotesting?”Iask
“Andarusia has a major wealth disparity,” my dad explains. “The Labor Party represents the working class, and they’re alwaysshowinguptoprotestateventslikethese.There’sagrowing‘eattherich’sentimenthere,buttheprotestsareusually peaceful”
“Usually?”
Mydad’sphonepingsinhispocket,andhedoesn’tanswermyquestion
Silencefallsoverthecar,theonlysoundbeinganirritatingclickingasmydadtypesanemailonhisscreen.
Iglanceonelasttimeattheprotesters,buttheysoondisappearbehindthetreesaswedrivefurtherintotheestate
The road is darkbeneaththe twilight sky. I start to wonder if we’ve takena wrongturn, but Ivanslows the car whena wrought-irongatematerializesahead.Militaryguardsstandoneithersideofthegatewithmachineriflesintheirhands,andI shrinkbackintomyseatwhentheyapproachus
Ivanrollsthewindowdownandshowsathickpieceofpapertotheguard.Whilehestudiesit,theotherguardsswarmthe car,openingthedoorsandtrunktocheckinsidewithflashlights Itrynottomakeeyecontactastheysweepthevehicle
Finally,theynodusahead,andthegatecreaksopen,allowingustopass.
Soon,thetreesparttorevealamagnificentstructure,andlightsshinethroughthedozensupondozensofwindowsliningthe brickfaçade.Alargepondwithafountainsitsinthemiddleofthelawn,reflectingthegoldenlightinitspools.Itremindsme ofthePalaceofVersaillesorKensingtonPalace,fitforroyaltyandgrandballs.
Thecarslowsbehindalineofcarswaitingtodropofftheirpassengersatthefrontentrance,wherepeopledressedinfine gownsandtuxedosmaketheirwayinside.
IttakesaminuteorsoforIvantoreachthefrontoftheline Abutlerappearstoopenthedoorsforus,andmyfatherandI stepoutontothedriveway.
“Thanks,Ivan,”mydadcalls.“Pickusuparoundten,willyou?”
“Yes,sir.Haveagoodnight.”
Myfatheroffershisarmtoescortme.Instead,IhikeupmyskirtsoIdon’ttripandheadstraightfortheentrance,makinghim trailbehindme
Mydressisanavybluegownmadeofsilk.ToavoidashoppingtripwithGalina,Ichosetowear myHomecomingdress fromsophomoreyear,thoughI’mstartingtoregretthethinfabric Afauxfurwrapcoversmyshoulderstokeepmewarm,but I’manxioustoseekrefugefromthechillyevening.
WhenIstep into the foyer, Icatchthe matte shimmer ofmydress ina gilded mirror hangingonthe wall. Mynipples are pebblingagainstthethinsilk,soIclutchmyfurovermychesttohidethem Overahundreddignitariesmillaroundthefirstfloor.Mostarewithoutdates,althoughafewhavewomenontheirarms.The majorityofthemareovertheageofforty,makingmefeeloutofplace I’veneverattendedaneventlikethis.ThefanciestpartyI’vebeentowastheHomecomingdanceintheschoolgymnasium. Inevermadeittomyjuniorprom ThatwasaroundthetimeMomgotsick
TheballgownsandtinklingofchampagneglassesareyetanotherreminderofhowfarawayIamfromhome. Unexpectedtearsspringtomyeyes,andIglanceatthefloortohidemyface.
Deep breath, Willow Plaster that fake-ass smile on your pretty face Awaiterinawhitecoatpassesbywithatrayofchampagne.Ipluckoneoftheglassesoffashewalksby,butbeforeIcan tasteit,it’sgone
“You’renottwenty-one,”mydadremindsme.Hetakesasipfromthestolenglass. Iscoff “Thedrinkingageislowerhere Ichecked” “You’reright,”hesays.“It’seighteen,andlastI checked,you’restillseventeenforafewmoremonths.” Iglaredaggersathim,injectingasmuchspiteasIcanintomyface.Hedecides now hewantstobeaparent?Fuckhim. Turningmyback,Imovetomakemywayfurtherintothecrowd,buthegrabsmyarm “First,weneedtogreetthepresident,”hesays.“It’scustomary.”
Iroundbackonhim “DoIlooklikeIgiveafuckaboutwhat’s‘customary?’” Mydadflinchesasthoughmycursewordwasaknife,andheglancesaroundatthepeoplestaringatus. “Willow, please behave,” he whispers “This is an important work function, and you are representing the United States tonight.Ambassadorsfromaroundtheworldarehere.”
“I’llbehaveifIcanhavesomechampagne.”Ifoldmyarmsindefiance. Hereleasesmyarmtopinchthebridgeofhisnose,closinghiseyes “Fine Butonlyoneglass” “Two.”
Hesighs “Okay,two Butthat’sit Imeanit” Iturnaroundtofindthewaiter,butmydadstopsme.
“After wemeetthepresident.”
Igroanashedragsmebythearmtowardtheballroom,whereareceivinglinespillsoutintothecorridor.Inside,thecrystal chandeliersdrawmygazeupwardtowardthegildedceilingofgoldpaneling.Aswegrownearer,Icatchaglimpseofaman standingatthefrontinformalmilitaryattire
He’s tall withgrayinghair and a cold, calculatingstare. As people greet him, he shakes their hand, but he doesn’t saya word,nordoeshesmileatanyone
But he exudes power, givingoff a don’t-fuck-with-me-or-I’ll-kill-youvibe. And it makes me want to runinthe opposite direction.
“That’sGrigorKurochkin,thepresidentofAndarusia,”mydadsaystomeinhushedtones.
The receivingline dwindles quickly, and soonwe’re next. There’s a tall womanbeside the president, and I’mstartingto wonderifthere’ssomethingintheBalticgenepoolthatmakeseveryoneastallasagiraffe
Her blonde hair is done upina bun,andnota strandis outofplace.Ablack,strapless gownhighlights her svelte figure. Makeup?Immaculate Nails?Perfectandsharp,likeclaws
Butwhenthepeopleinfrontofusfinishtheirgreeting,theymoveaway,revealingtwomorefigures.Apetite,blondegirl,a fewyearsyoungerthanme,andaboy,hishairashadedarkerthanhissister’s.
Helookstobemyage,buthisgorgeous,chiseledfaceissetintoacoldlook,makinghimseemolderthanhisyears Whenhe turnshisicyblueeyesontome,itsendsajoltoffearthrougheverynerveending.Ishudder. HowcanaboywiththefaceofanangelfrightenmemorethanLuciferhimself?Andwithjustone look Heisadarkprincewiththepowertoswallowmewhole.
“President,thankyousomuchfor hostingustonight,”myfather says “I’dliketointroducemydaughter,Willow,whojust arrivedfromtheStates.”
Thepresidentextendshishandtome,forcingmetotearmygazeawayfromthedevilishstranger.Iaccepthishandshake,but I’mnotsurewhethertosayhelloorholdmytongue
There’ssomethingdangerousaboutthisfamily,makingthehairsonthebackofmyneckstandup.
“MayIpresenthislovelywife,Olga,andtheirchildren,AnastasiaandAleksandr” Ishakehandswitheachofthem,theirgripsfirmandcold.ButwhenIgettoAleksandr,Ihesitate. Hereachesformyhand,andassoonashisskinconnectswithmine,itsendsatantalizingshiverupmyentirearm Isuckina sharpbreath.Histouchiswarm,unliketheothermembersofhisfamily.Hot,even. Aleksandrbringsmyhandtohismouthandplacesakissatopmyknuckles.Hislipsaresoftashelingersthereforamoment, hiseyesassessingme
Withhis head bowed, I get a glimpse of his thick, sandyhair, and I want to reach out and run myfingers through those enticingwaves
“AleksandrattendsthePresident’sAcademyofOlininburg,whereyou’llbegoingtoschool,”mydadinterjects.“Perhapshe canshowyouaround,ifheisn’ttoobusy?”
Hedropsmyhand,andwhenhedoes,itleavesmebereftandlongingforhistouchonceagain. Ihaven’thadaboyexcitemethismuchsince…well,never.
Aleksandrsmirksatme.“Perhaps.”
His voice makes myback stiffen. His English is clean, sounding British withonly a trace of a Russianaccent. And it’s brimmingwithdarkpromises
Mydadtakesthatasour cue,andheushersmeawayfromthepresidentandhisfamily.Iglancebackover myshoulder at Aleksandr,buthisattentionisfocusedonthenextpersoninline Asthoughhe’salreadyforgottenme.
Insteadofheadingtoourtable,mydadleadsmearoundtheroom,introducingmetoallsortsofdignitarieswhosenamesI’ll neverremember.Theschmoozingandtheass-kissingaremorethanIcanstand,andmyheelsarekillingme.Ishiftfromfootto footwhilestandingatmyfather’sside,armscrossed.
He puts his hand onmybackto lead me to his nextnetworkingopportunity, butIshrughimoff Iskulkbehind himas we approachanotherwhitedudeinasuit,andwhenwedo,thecouplehe’stalkingtodispersesintothecrowd.
“HansMüller”Mydadextendshishandwithawarmsmile Hansacceptshishandshake.“Ah,hello,Ambassador.”
Mydadputshisarmaroundmyshoulderandscootsmeforward “Thisismydaughter,Willow Willow,thisisHansMüller, theleaderoftheLaborParty.”
Hansbowshisheadingreeting,buthedoesn’tsmile.Infact,Idon’tthinktheguyknowshow.Hehasahardenedlookonhis face,andthefiveo’clockshadowthatstubbleshisjawlinematcheshistawnyhairfleckedwithgray
Thisguyisn’tasputtogetherastheotherdignitariesintheroom.Hissuitdoesn’tlookveryexpensive,anditfitslooselyon histallframe Hecouldbethirtyorfifty-five;it’shardtosay,buthegivesoffthevibeofajadedwarveteran “LaborParty,huh?”Isay.“So,you’reinheredrinkingfreeboozewhileyourfollowersprotestoutfront?”
Myfatherclencheshisjaw.“Willow ”
Hans raises a hand to cut my father off. “It’s alright. It’s a fair question. The leaders of this country need to be held accountablefor their actions.”Heturnshisroughgazeontome.“WhatisittheAmericanssay?Oh,yes. Keep your enemies close That’swhyI’mhere”
Histonesendsashuddercrawlingupmyspine.
“Andyouwon’tseeadrinkinmyhandtonight”HansflickshisgazeovertowardtheKurochkins “Onemuststayalertina denofvipers.”
I follow his gaze, and at the entrance of the ballroom, the Kurochkins are lined up, shaking hands and greeting the newcomers.AsIstareatAleksandr,Irakemylipbetweenmyteeth.
“Hans here is quite popular inAndarusia,” mydad interjects, breakingthe tense silence. “You’ll see his speeches onTV often”
ThepresidentmustrealizehowmuchHanshateshisguts.Hedoesn’ttrytohideit.SowhywouldGrigorKurochkininvite himtoaneventlikethis?
UnlesstheKurochkinsarealsokeepingtheirenemiesclose.
“Haveagoodnight,Ambassador.”Hansnodstome.“Enjoytheparty,Willow.”
Mydadsayshellotoafew morefamiliar facesbeforewereachour table,andmostoftheseatsarefilledbyolder white menintuxedos.Oneofthemcracksacrudejoke,whichsendstheothersroaringinlaughter.
“Gentlemen,it’sgreattoseeyou”Myfathermakeshiswayaroundthetabletoshakehands “Everyone,thisismydaughter, Willow.”
“Oops,webetterbehavenow,”oneofthemensaysinathickIrishaccent “Ladiesarepresent”
Myfathercomesaroundtopullmychairoutforme,andItakeaseat.Thetablesettingistheepitomeofelegance,withmore silverwarethanIknowwhattodowith,andanextravagantfloralarrangementtowersoverusinthemiddle. Iglancearoundattheplacecards theambassadorfromCanada,fromAustralia,GreatBritain,Ireland,SouthAfrica,anda coupleofothernations.Essentially,aboy’scluboftheEnglish-speakingworld. AnditseemsnoneofthemhavefamilyhereinAndaruisa,oriftheydo,theyleftthembehindtonight “So,MissWillow,”theCanadianambassadorsays,“howoldareyou?” “Seventeen”
“Almostanadult.David,youwon’tbeabletoscaretheboysoffmuchlonger.Suchaprettyface.” Great,theickfactorjustjumpedtoanelevenoutoften.
“Youmustbethinkingaboutuniversitynow,”theBritishambassadorsays “Whatareyourplanstostudy?” “She’sgothersightssetonmyalmamater,”mydadinterjects.“She’shadHarvardgearhanginginherroomsincetheageof four”
“Oh,howmarvelous.Areyouplanningonfollowingyourfather’sfootstepsandgoingintoforeignrelations?” “No,definitelynot,”Ireply.“Icouldn’tdothattomyfuturefamily.”
NotthatIseemyselfhavingkidsanytimesoon,butIneverunderstoodhowmyfathercouldgiveuphisfamilyforthislineof work.Idon’twanttocontinuethecycleofabsenteeparenting.
“Ah,it’sjustaswell,”theIrishambassadorsays.“It’salonelylifewelead,eh,lads?”
Afewofthemenmutterinagreement,tappingtheirbeerglassesonthetable. Ispotmyfatheroutofthecornerofmyeyestewinginsilence,andIhopemycommentstung “Also,I’mnotgoingtoHarvardanymore,”Iadd.
Mydadjerkshisheadtostareatme,hisjawdroppingopen “Harvardisn’ttheonlyIvyschool,”theCanadianambassadorsays.“PerhapsYaleorDartmouth?”
“OrshecouldcometoOxford,”theBritishambassadorchimes
“Or,Icouldtakeayearoff,”Isay.“Mygradesaren’tgoodenoughfortheIvies,anyway.I’mashitstudent.” “Language,”mydadhisses.“Andsincewhenwereyounotagoodstudent?”
“SinceMomgotsick Ordon’tyouremember?”
Thetablefallssilent.
“Thisisn’tthetimeorplace ”
“No,itisn’t.IshouldbeathomewithMom,attendingpromlikeanormalteenageranddoingcollegecampustours.ButI’m not Ihadtobeher caregiver insteadofadaughter Andthatwholetime,youwereabroad,gettingdrunkwithyour fratboys andfuckingyourmaidwho’shalfyourage ”
“Goddamnit,Willow,thatisenough!”
My father’s hand comes down heavy on the table, punctuating the end of our argument The other men are sitting in an uncomfortablesilence.
Withoutanotherword,Ithrowmynapkinontothetableandstandup IhavenoideawhereI’mgoing,butIhavetogetaway fromthisparty.
Awayfromthemanwhocallshimselfmyfather.
Ibumpintosomeoneonmywayout.Inmyhaste,Idon’tgetacloselookather,butit’sanotherteenager.Herlong,darkhair istiedintoabraid,withabrilliantpinksariwrappedaroundherbody.Round,browneyesstareatmethroughthickglasses. “Excuseme,”Imutter,pushingpasther
Thenearestexitisaglassdoor,soIbolttowardit.Achillhitsmewhenthedoorswingsopen,whichleadsontoaspacious balconyoverlookinga vastgarden Goldenlightfromthe ballroomsplashes across the stone pavers, and Isetoffdownthe steps.
Thenightisfreezing,andIwrapmyfur tighter aroundmyshoulders.Ididn’tdresstobeoutsidetonight.Alittlefur isnot enoughto protectme fromthe harshAndarusianweather, and roughgoosebumps eruptacross myskin. ButI’d rather die of hypothermiathangobackinside.It’snotmypreferredwaytogoout,butithasitsmerits.
Soon,thenoiseofthepartyfadesaway,andtheonlysoundistheclickingofmyheelsagainststone,whichpiercethesilent night.
WhenIreachafountainmarkingtheentrancetothegarden,Ipause Iwanttokeeprunning,butIhavenothingtoruntoward I’maimless.
Angerandpainareignitedlikealitmatchdroppedongasoline.Acryiswrenchedfrommythroat,andIthrowmyheadback andscreamtowardthecloudynightsky Istop,andthescreamechoesoffthestone.
“Ah,yes,”someonesaysbehindme “Thesoundofpure,teenageangst” Startled,Ispinaroundtowardthelowvoice.Freshragebubblesbeneaththesurfaceattheindividualwhodarestointrude onmyprivatemoment
Peeringintothedarkshadows,Inarrowmygaze.“Who’sthere?” Silence.
I’mbeingwatched, and it’s unsettling I want to take a step forward, but fear keeps me rooted inthis spot Myheart is pounding.
Iopenmymouthtocalloutagain,butbeforeIdo,Ihearalighterclick Anorangeflamelightsupthedark,givingmeabrief glimpseofhisface.
Aleksandr Kurochkin
Theflameissnuffedout,plunginghimbackintoshadow,savefortheendofhiscigarette.
Slow footsteps beginto approach, and whenhe steps into the moonlight, mybreathhitches. He’s evenmore stunningthan whenIfirstencounteredhiminside,whenhewashaloedbythelightfromthechandeliers Hebelongsouthere,inthedark.
“Tellme,”hesays,prowlingcloser,“howoldareyou?”
“S-Seventeen.”
“Andwhatproblemscouldaseventeen-year-oldgirlhavetocausesuchturmoil?Surely,it’snotasdireasyouthink.” Inarrowmygazeathim.“This,comingfromthespoiledrichboy.Whatcouldyoupossiblyknowaboutsuffering?” Hecomestoastoponlyinchesaway,andhetowersovermewithhisimposingpresence.
Withouta word, he takes a puffofhis cigarette, keepinghis steelygaze locked onto mine. Holdingthe cigarette withhis thumbandpointerfinger,heexhalesthesmokeinthesmallgapbetweenus.
His fingers come to mymouth, his knuckles lightlygrazingmycheekwitha featherlight touch Ashudder rolls downmy spine,thoughhisskiniswarm.
Heputsthecigarettetomymouth,urgingmetoopenmylipsforhim AndIobeywithoutquestion
Whenheletsgo,hereachesintohissleek,blackcoatandpullsaflaskfromthebreastpocket.Hetwiststhecapoffandtakes alongsipbeforepassingittome,andIthrowthecigaretteontheground WhenIslingbacktheflask,thewarmbourbonburns onthewaydownmythroat.
Ilickmylipsandpassittohim.“Thanks.”
“Youlookedcold,”hesays Hiseyesdiptomychest,wheremynipplesarepebblingagainstthethinsilkofmydress “Agentlemanwouldofferaladyhiscoat.”
Thecornersofhismouthtug “I’mnogentleman”
Maybe Idon’twanta gentleman. Maybe Iwantto be manhandled, to be roughed up so hard iterases this painwithnew scars
“Thenkeep me warmanother way.” Ireachdownbetweenus, placingmyhand over his groin. Myfingers snake pastthe openingofhisthickcoat,buthestopsmebeforeIcangetafeelofhim.
“I’mdisappointed,”hesays “Ididn’ttakeyouforaneasylay” Hiswordssting,butwhenItrytoyankmyarmback,hekeepshishandlockedaroundmywrist.
Hepullsmecloserandwhispersinmyear “Ienjoythethrillofthechase Itdoesn’texcitemewhenyouofferupyourpussy onasilverplatter.”
WhenIstepback,hereleasesme. “Fuckyou,”Ihiss.“You’rejustastuck-upprickwhothinkshe’sbetterthantherestofus.ButIhavenewsforyou you’re not.”
Hechucklesandturnshisbackonme “Seeyouaround, malishka ” Iwatchhisbackashewalksawayinthedirectionoftheparty,leavingmetostewinmyhumiliation.
Chapter 4 Alek
Aknockonmybedroomdoorinterruptsmythoughts.Isnapmyleatherboundjournalshutandslideitintothedrawerofmy nightstand.“Comein.”
The door opens just enough for the butler to speak “Sir, your father wishes to see you in the study He requests your immediatepresence.”
Everythingwithmyfatherisimmediate Heisamanwhowillnottoleratewaiting Isigh.“I’mcoming.”
EachtimeIjourneytomyfather’soffice,IwonderifthisishowJesusfeltwhenhewalkedthroughJerusalem,burdenedby theheavycrossonhisshoulders.
Fear
ButJesusknewhewasheadedtowardhiscrucifixion Withmyfather,Ineverknowwhenhe’sgoingtostrike WhenIarrive,thedark,imposingdoortohisstudyisshut.Itakeadeepbreath,steelingmyselfforwhateveriswaitingfor meontheotherside
Willhebeamenabletoday?Isheinafoulmood?Whichfacemyfatherwearstonightisanyone’sguess. Iraisemyfistandrapthreetimesonthedoor “Enter.”
Hisvoiceisweightedwithpower.Unyielding. Iopenthedoorandstepintohisdarkstudy Theonlylightintheroomiscomingfromthebrickfireplacebehindhisdesk, alongwithasmallreadinglamp.Hepreferstoworkinthedark.
Withhisbacktowardme,myfatherstandsatthewindowwithapairofbinocularsinonehand Intheother,heholdsacigar, withwispsofsmokecurlingfromtheend.“Closethedoor.” Iobey.
“Comehere.Iwantyoutoseethis.”
IcrosstheroomuntilIreachthewindow,andthenIwait.
“Here Look”
Hepassesthebinocularstome,andIplacethemtomyeyes.Iseewhathesees:protestersfromtheLaborParty. “Theyaregrowingrestless,”hesays “Doyoufeelit?”
“Yes, Otets. ”
“Theyare downthere, and we are up here. Remember this moment. Itis our dutyto keep themintheir place, to maintain order.Itisadelicatebalance.Toomuchbloodshedanditdrawsinternationalattention.Thisiswhyweallowthemjustenough hopetokeepthemgoing,butthemomentitgetsoutofhand ”
Aloudbangmakesmejump,andInearlyknockmyeyesoutwiththebinoculars Icastasidewaysglanceatmyfather,who hassquashedabugagainsttheglass.Hetakesouthishandkerchiefandcleanshispalm.
“Ifitgetsoutofhand,”hecontinues,“youputthemdownlikethedogstheyare Quietly”
“I’msureKingLouisXVIsaidthesamethingbeforehisheadwascutoff.Butbythen,itwastoolate.”
Assoonasthestatementleavesmylips,Irealizemymistake.Withinamoment,I’mknockedtothefloor,reelingfromthe backhandtomyface
“Getup.”
Iobey,thoughwhenIstand,theroomspins ButIcannotlethimglimpseanyshowofweakness
“Arevolutionwill never happen,” he says. “Not while I’mleadingthis nation. But Iworryabout your reign. You’re too soft”
“Iamnotsoft.”
“Yes,youare!Youwillallowthescumtowalkalloveryouwhenyousucceedmeunlessyoulearnhowtowieldthepower ofthisoffice”
“Thatis,ifIwintheelection,”Iadd. “Don’tberidiculous,”hesays “Whenyouarereadytotakeover,ourRussianbackerswillensureourvictory Theyalways do.”
“Yes Theyalwaysdo”
Myfatherturnsawayfromthewindowandtakeshisseatbehindthedesk.Ifollow,takingoneofthechairsinfrontofhim. “Aleksandr,remember these lessons,” he says.“Iamhardonyoubecause youstill have a longwaytogo.Youare onthe cuspofadulthood,anditistimeyoutoughenup Someoneisalwaysinthewingswaitingtostealyourpower,andthemoment youshowanyhintofweakness,theywillstrike.”
“Yes, Otets ”
Henods,seeminglysatisfied.“Now,letusdiscusswhyIaskedyouhere.ItconcernstheAmericangirl.”
Willow
“AmbassadorBaker’sdaughter?”Iask.“Whatabouther?” “Don’tgettooclosetoher.”
Didheseeustogetherinthegarden? Ifhesuspectsanything…
“Ihavenointerestinher,”Isay,keepingmyvoicelevel “Good. We can’t have Andarusia’s future president involved with an American. It sends the wrong message to Russia. Rememberwhereourloyaltieslie.”
“Yes, Otets. ”
“Show themotherlandyouaregrateful for their support.Their moneyfeedsyou.Clothesyou.Providesthesameluxurious lifewhichhasmadeyousoft You’veneverhadtotakepowerbecauseitwashandedtoyou You’veneverhadtoworkforit ThatisthedifferencebetweenyouandI.”
Mygrandfatherdidalltheworkforhim,buthedoesn’tseeitthatway “IfIamsoinadequate,whytrustmewithrulingthiscountry?”
It’sallhe’stoldmemyentirelife:Iamnotworthytotakewhathehas. Hisgazehardens,hiscoldeyesboringintomine.Thesmokeofhiscigarwaftsinfrontofhisface.“BecauseIammakingyou strong.”
Hestandsup,andthehairsprickleonthebackofmyneck
“Son,Idon’taskmuchofyou,”hesays,comingaroundtomysideofthedesk.“Youareexpectedtoshow upatimportant eventswithacharmingsmile Whatyoudoinyourfreetimeisyourownbusiness Butwhenwearehosting,Iexpectmysonto representAndarusiaandremainbymysidetheentirenight.”
Hestepscloser.“Nottorunoffinthemiddleofdinner.”
Myheartdropsintomystomach Didhehavemefollowed?DoesheknowIwaswithWillow? Iwillnotlethersufferatanyone’shand exceptmyown. “Isnuckoffforacigarette,”Isay It’sapartialtruth “Ilosttrackofthetime Iapologize” “Idon’twantyourapologies.They’remeaninglessifyoudon’tunderstandthelesson.Rollupyoursleeve.” “Otets,please ”
“Donotspeak.Justobey.”Hetakesalongdragfromhiscigar,loomingoverme. Ineverfeelsmall,exceptwhenI’mwithhim.
MyfingersshakeasIrollupthesleeveofmyshirt,startingwiththecuffs,andIdon’tstopuntilitreachespastmyelbow Irestmyarmonthedeskandexposemyforearmtotheceiling.Myfatherletsoutalongexhaleandtapstheashintothetray. “Thenexttimeyouthinkaboutshirkingyourduties,lookatyourarmandrememberwhathappenswhenyoudefyme” Hebringstheendofthecigardownonmyforearm,pushingandtwistingintotheskin.Iclosemyeyesandwaitoutthehot pain,butthesmellofburningfleshhitsmynose
Soon,thesitegrowsnumb,andwhenmyfatherissatisfied,heliftsthecigaranddisposesofitintheashtray.Iglancedown atthecircularmarkonmyskin,surroundedbysimilar,whitescarsfadedwithtime. “You’redismissed”
“Yes, Otets. ”
Chapter 5 Willow Galinahasmestandinfrontofthefull-lengthmirrorinmyroom.Myschooluniformsarrivedthismorning,andtheyneedto betailored.
“Theyaretoobigonyou”Shetsks “David,Ithoughtyousaidsheworesizesmall?” Myfatherleansagainstthedoorwaywithhisarmsfolded.“That’swhatshetoldme.” Sinceour blowupfightattheAmbassadors’Dinner twonights ago,wehaven’tsaidmorethanafew words toeachother Thetensioninthehouseispalpable,thoughGalinapretendsnottonotice.
“It’sfine,”Isay “Ihaven’thadmuchofanappetitelately” Itakeagoodlookatmyselfinthemirror,whichIhaven’tdoneinalongtime.MyfocuswasonhowthinandfrailMomhad becomeoverthepastyear,butIdidn’tnoticeIwaswastingaway,too.
Thegirl inthemirror isn’toneIrecognize Mybrunettehair usedtobeshiner,healthier Andmybrowneyes,peeringout fromdarksockets,weren’talwayssodull.There’sevenasicklypallortomyskin.
NowonderAleksandrKurochkindidn’twanttosleepwithme Buthisrejectionstillleavesabittertasteinmymouth “Iwilltakeintheskirts,”Galinasays.“ButIwillhavenotimetofinishtheshirtsbytomorrow.”
“That’sfine,”Ianswer
Shestartspinningtheskirt,andIstandasstill asastatuetoavoidbeingpricked.Myeyesglanceover myshoulder inthe mirror,wheremydadstands.Oureyesmeetforabriefmoment,andthenheretreatsintothehallwayanddisappears. Whenshefinishes,Itakeofftheskirtandhandittoher,thewhitebutton-upshirthanginglooselyover myunderwear She gathersuptheuniformsinherarms,alongwithhersewingkit.
“Iwillirontheseforyou Youwilllookperfectforyourfirstdayofschool Nottoworry”Shesmilesatmeinthemirror beforeleaving,andIcrossovertoclosethedoorbehindher.
Ishrugoffthe navyblazer, whichhas the school’s red lioncrestembroidered onthe chest, and Iunbuttonthe white shirt underneath.Itcomeswithatie,butmaybeIcangetawaywithwearingitloose,likeSerenafrom Gossip Girl.AtleastIcan pullofftheknee-highsocks.
AllIwantisahotbathbeforecrawlingintobedtonight,soIthrowtheclothesovermyvanitychairandslipintomyrobe WhenIopenthedoor,IcatchaglimpseofmyfatherandGalinastandinginthehallway.Hetucksastrandofhairbehindher ear,andthissimpleactionsayseverything
Heandmymomdivorcedalongtimeago,buthelovedheronce.Sowhydoesheactasthoughherdeathmeansnothingto him,touchinganotherwomanwhenMom’sbodyisbarelycold?
He’shappy,andI’mmiserable.AndIfuckinghateit.
Withas muchforce as Icanmuster, Ithrow the door openthe restofthe way, makingitrattle onthe doorframe. Mydad jumps,andhiseyesdarttome
Hisfacegrowstwoshadespalerwhenheseesme.“Willow,letmeexplain ” “So,Iwasright Youreallyarescrewingthemaid”Myhandsballupintofists,diggingmyfingernailsintomypalmtokeep mefromgoingballistic.
“IwillnothaveyouspeakaboutGalinathatway.Apologizetoher.Now.”
“No!Ihavenothingtosaytoeitherofyou Getafuckingroom” “Willow!”
Istormacross the hallway, myfootsteps fallingheavyonthe woodenfloorboards The door tothe bathroomis open, so I hurlmyselfinsideandlockthedoorbehindme.
“Willow,getyourassouthereandapologize!”
