"Thank you," I said stiffly.
I turned back to Zara. "You can play. But remember—best behavior."
"I will! I promise!" She ran off with the other children, already giggling.
I watched her go, my chest tight. At least she was happy. Safe. That was what mattered.
"She looks like you," Olek said quietly.
I stiffened. "I need to finish setting the table."
"Katrina."
"Excuse me, Mr. Sidorov."
I walked away, back to the dining room, back to work. Back to pretending my heart wasn't breaking. The table was nearly done—twenty-five places, crystal glasses, china plates, everything gleaming under the chandelier. Red runners down the center, gold candles, fresh pine boughs.
Christmas magic for people who believed in it.
I was arranging the final place setting when I heard children's laughter. Zara ran past the doorway, chasing one of Adam's kids, both of them shrieking with delight.
"Walk, please!" I called.
"Sorry!" Zara slowed, grinning at me before disappearing again.
"She's adorable."
I turned. Irina stood in the doorway, smiling.
"Thank you. She's everything to me."
"I can tell." Irina came closer. "It's good that she's here. Good, that you have her close for the holidays."
"Mr. Sidorov was very generous to allow it."
"He's generous with people he cares about." She gave me a knowing look. "And he clearly cares about you."
I focused on straightening a fork. "He's my employer."
"Mhmm. And I'm the Queen of England." She touched my arm gently. "Whatever happened between you two—it's none of my business. But I've known Olek since he was a boy. I've never seen him look at anyone the way he looks at you."
My throat tightened. "You're mistaken."
"I'm not. But," she squeezed my arm, "I'll mind my business. Just think about it, okay? Life's too short for stubborn pride."
She left, and I stood there staring at the perfect table, wondering how everything had gotten so complicated.
In the other room, I could hear Olek's voice mixing with Mikhail's. The sound of the children playing. Christmas music starting up on the sound system. Joy and laughter and everything Christmas was supposed to be. And me, standing alone, trying to remember why I'd pushed him away. Trying to forget the look in his eyes when I called him Mr. Sidorov. Trying to survive without completely falling apart.
I took a breath, straightened my shoulders, and went back to work. Because that's what I did. I survived. Even when it hurt, or felt impossible. Even when all I wanted was to run to his study and take back every word.
I survived.
Katrina
Iwoke up at 3 AM on Christmas morning, unable to sleep any longer. For a moment, I just lay there in the unfamiliar bed, in these new quarters that were mine but not mine, listening to Zara's soft breathing from the room next door.
Christmas. The first one in years that we weren't hiding, running, pretending. I slipped out of bed and padded to the small living area where I'd set up a tree last night after Zara fell asleep. Three feet tall, decorated with cheap ornaments I'd picked up. Nothing like the massive, designer-decorated trees throughout the mansion. But it was ours.
