“Attending to business. He’ll speak with you later.” She moves farther into the room, gesturing to the chair by the window. “Please, sit. We need to discuss the rules.”
“Rules.”
“Yes. For your stay here.”
“My stay.” I laugh, the sound harsh and bitter. “That’s what we’re calling kidnapping now?”
Irina’s expression doesn’t change. “Sit, please.”
I don’t want to. Don’t want to cooperate, don’t want to make this easier. My legs are shaky and standing feels like defiance I can’t quite maintain right now.
I sit. The chair is comfortable, of course. Everything in this room is designed for comfort.
That might be the worst part.
Irina remains standing, hands clasped in front of her. “You’re in the east wing of the main house. This floor contains guest accommodations, though you’re currently the only guest.”
“How fortunate for me.”
She ignores the sarcasm. “You’re permitted to move freely within this wing. The bedroom, the attached bathroom, the sitting room next door, and the small library at the end of the hall. All other doors will remain locked.”
“What will he do if I try them anyway?”
“You’ll find they don’t open.” She says it matter-of-factly, like discussing the weather. “Guards are stationed at both stairwells. You won’t see them unless you approach restricted areas, but they’re always present.”
“So I’m a prisoner with a nicer cell.”
“You’re a guest with limitations.” Irina moves to the wardrobe and opens it, revealing clothes I’ve never seen before.“These have been provided for you. Your measurements were taken while you were resting. Everything should fit.”
While I was unconscious, she means. While someone touched me, measured me, cataloged my body like inventory.
“I don’t want them,” I say.
“Nevertheless, they’re here when you need them.” She closes the wardrobe and turns back to me. “Meals will be brought to you three times daily. If you have dietary restrictions or preferences, inform me now.”
“I prefer not being held against my will.”
“Noted.” Her tone is dry. “Anything else?”
I want to scream at her. Want to demand she help me, call the authorities, do something other than stand there acting like this is normal.
I can see it in her eyes—she’s been with Aleksandr Sharov long enough that this probably is normal. Women in rooms they can’t leave. Rules they must follow. Guards watching their every move.
How many others have sat in this chair, listening to this same speech?
“What happens if I break the rules?” I ask.
“That depends on which rules you break and how seriously Mr. Sharov takes the violation.” She smooths her already-perfect suit. “I would advise cooperation. It makes things easier for everyone.”
“Easier for him, you mean.”
“For you as well.”
She moves toward the door, clearly considering this conversation finished.
“Wait,” I call out. “How long am I supposed to stay here?”
Irina pauses, hand on the doorknob. For the first time, something like sympathy crosses her face—real this time, not just a flicker.
