“You look gorgeous,” Danika admired from the bed when I stepped out of the bathroom.
I adjusted the strap over my shoulder and surveyed myself in the long mirror. “Mmm.”
“Give us a smile,” laughed Dani.
I sent her my best toothy grimace and her laughter danced around the room.
“Your smile is terrible, but you have gorgeous teeth,” Tatiana observed.
“You’re both so mean,” Roksana said from the vanity. To me, she said, “You look beautiful.”
I hid my smile, continuing to assess my reflection. “Perhaps I’ll get some attention.” I ran my fingers through my hair, momentarily distracting myself from the fact that nobody laughed.
I glanced at each of the women. I had just lost my husband; I could see why my little joke could’ve sounded terrible.
I opened my mouth to offer some kind of justification but Roksana said, “Don’t make jokes like that around Konstantin.”
“Why not?” I asked, my temper sharpening in my stomach.
“Konstantin is a very territorial man,” Tatiana muttered. “Just enjoy yourself tonight. Don’t worry about anyone else.”
Questions bubbled up my throat, but I held them in. Some part of me didn’t want the answer to my questions, to know the meaning behind their words.
Just cure Tatiana and leave, I told myself. That’s all you have to do. And then you’re free.
Free.
“When I went to the ballet for the first time, Roman told me to bring a coloring book to entertain myself,” Danika said, changing the subject.
“I don’t know where I would find a coloring book,” I said.
Roksana huffed. “She’s just being a pain, Elena.” Then added, “Nobody in this family values art, except for Kostya, of course.”
“They both know all the dances and techniques,” Danika told me. “You’re going to want to ditch yourself into the crowd.”
Tatiana giggled. “You could borrow one of Anton’s coloring books, Elena.”
“The ballet is beautiful,” Roksana told me. “Ignore these two.” But she threw affectionate smiles their way.
When it was time to leave, I opened the door to Artyom leaning against the wall. He looked stern, but the moment he spotted Roksana behind me, his entire face lit up.
“Ah, you look beautiful, dorogaya.”
Artyom didn’t even glance at me as he stretched his arms out for his wife, causing me to press myself into the doorway so Roksana could greet him.
“Thank you, husband,” she wrapped her arms around his neck, smiling into his mouth.
Together, they made quite the pair. Roksana’s white blonde hair contrasted Artyom’s inky black, her short skinny form fit into his tall muscled arms.
The intimacy and familiarity of their marriage was never something I had shared with Thaddeo. We had been more likely to hold guns to each other’s hearts than embrace each other.
The kisses, the sex, the touches, had all been purposeful and with a clear agenda in mind. Thaddeo was affectionate in public because it made our marriage look strong, he had sex with me because he needed an heir.
I regarded the affection in our marriage like a check list. Hug, check. Kiss, check. Lay on your back and spread your legs, check.
No emotion, no love, no partnership. Just expectations and duty, just rules and agendas.
I didn’t mind being alone—in fact, I preferred it. I had since I was a child, which had led to my family calling me aloof and antisocial most of my life.
But if I preferred it so much, then why was my stomach cramping at the sight of Artyom and Roksana? Why did my fingers curl into fists?
“I’ll meet you downstairs, Roksana,” I said, sweeping up my skirts.
Roksana made a noise of agreement but was too enthralled with her husband and his sweet compliments to notice me leaving.
I glanced at them one more time at them as I reached the end of the hallway, before tearing my eyes away.
You don’t need a partner, I told myself, trying to soothe the snarling green beast low in my stomach. You just need to cure Tatiana and gain your freedom.
“Elena,” called a familiar voice.
I looked down the staircase, eyes going straight to Konstantin. He stood tall in the foyer, looking resplendent in his suit and his hair combed nearly back. His light brown eyes were latched onto me, darkening as he took me in.
“You look beautiful,” he said simply, like it was a fact and not a compliment.
I refused to acknowledge the blush rising up my cheeks. “I borrowed Tatiana’s dress.”
Konstantin’s eyes dragged over me. “It’s not the dress.”
“Roksana is coming.” I pulled up my skirt and carefully made my way down the stairs.