Or maybe, I simply hate him and can’t tell the difference after all these years. Perhaps I want him to be proud of me, or really, I want to shove his face in all I have achieved and make him feel like shit?
Either way, it’s irrelevant because he’s dead.
I get dressed, smart today, as I have a meeting this morning. I’m quiet as I do, leaving Dasha to sleep. I kept her up late last night. I smile to myself as I think about fucking her in the shower, the water streaming down all around us.
When I hit the kitchen, I decline the breakfast Mrs. Imanovich offers me and grab a banana instead. She’s weirdly happy this morning. The woman is usually morose. I take a bottle of chilled water from the fridge and shoot her a goodbye as I head out. She says goodbye back, and it’s sickly sweet. As is her smile.
It makes me suspicious.
Why has the woman who has been so miserable suddenly decided to be all amenable and falsely nice?
I click the car keys, and the door beep-beeps and unlocks. I took delivery of the car three days ago. It’s a new Land Rover Defender, and I fucking love it. It’s going to be used off-road I hope when myself and Dasha take it exploring this gorgeous country. I want to see Greece, not just Corfu. This car will help us explore the mainland as we travel around. Of course, I’ll have to fit it around the work I’ll be doing with Andrius and K, and with Dasha’s school, but we can make it work.
This morning I have a meeting with a local uniform supplier. It’s a surprise for Dasha. I’ve spoken to K and Andrius, and they say they’d be happy for us to build a small school and dorm on the land. We went over the maps of the land we’ve bought, and there’s an area toward the back of the property where we could be totally out of eyesight and earshot of the military training area, which could also have a separate entrance.
Hopefully if this meeting with the supplier goes well, I’ll be able to show Dasha where she could build her dance school. I want her to be here with me, but to be free to do her own thing. I don’t want her tied to me the way Violet is to Andrius. Not because I judge them for that, as it works for them, but because Dasha has spent years being a prisoner. I want her to fly now.
I love her.
The thought makes me grin like a lunatic.
The meeting goes well, and I drive back to Andrius’ place excited to share the news with Dasha.
I park the car and walk to the house swinging the keys in my hand. When I step into the kitchen, I realize something is wrong immediately. Dasha is sitting at the table, red-eyed and my laptop is open in front of her. Mrs. Imanovich has a horrible grin stretched across her vile features.
I want to slap it from her.
My stomach sinks at the laptop in front of Dasha. I curse myself for using something as stupidly simple as my birthdate as my passcode to unlock the screen.
“So it seems Jasper had some people come to check the house to see about putting cameras in.” Dasha’s voice is cold and hard.
Oh shit. I know where this is going. I hadn’t taken the cameras out as I’m still checking on Jasper to make sure he’s not planning any nefarious shit against Dasha.
“It seems there are cameras already there, though. Have been for some time. At first, Jasper thought, who could have put cameras in our house? But then he quickly realized it had to have been you.”
I turn to her mother. “Leave us please.”
“No. You’ve turned my daughter’s head and ruined her marriage. I won’t leave.”
I advance on her, and the woman has enough sense to back up. “Fucking leave this room now, or so help me God, I’ll take you and show you that feeding someone to the fishes isn’t merely a euphemism.”
She pales and looks to her daughter, but Dasha shakes her head. “Go, Mother. Give us some privacy.”
She huffs and puffs, but she leaves the room.
I sit at the table and look at Dasha. “Yes, I put cameras in your house. After I saw you at the ballet, I realized something wasn’t right between you and Jasper.”
“You’re worse than him,” she says so quietly I