My place? I'd given up the old apartment. If Rihanna was coming over, it could only be here.
I bit my lip, suddenly nervous. I couldn't lie to my best friend.
"Rihanna," I took a breath. "I... I got married."
Dead silence on the other end. For five full seconds.
"WHAT?!" The shriek nearly burst my eardrum. "Harper Evans! Are you fucking with me? I was gone for one month! WHO? Who the hell did you marry?"
"You know him. Olga's grandson. Kirill Orlov."
"Oh my God! Harper, he said yes?" Rihanna squealed with delight. "Honey, I'm so happy for you!"
My smile was unstoppable. I was about to say something when Rihanna let out another shriek.
"Wait! What did you say his last name is? Orlov?" A sharp intake of breath came through the phone. Her tone shifted from joy to horror. "You don't mean that Orlov, do you? The one they call New York's underground emperor? The Russian?"
"Probably him."
"Jesus Christ..." Rihanna sputtered. "Where are you? I need to see you! Right now! Immediately!"
I checked my watch, glanced at my reflection—fully dressed and ready. An idea struck me.
"I'm home. Orlov Manor." I couldn't help smiling. "Why don't you come over? Tonight for dinner, just us. I want you to see my... new place."
"Are you sure?" Disbelief filled her voice. "I mean, a place like that... can I just walk in?"
"Of course you can. You're my best friend." My tone softened. "I need you here, Rihanna. There's a lot I want to tell you."
Silence. Then Rihanna said quietly, "Okay. I'm coming. Send me the address."
At seven that evening, a taxi pulled up to the massive iron gates carved with the double-headed eagle emblem.
I stood on the main house steps waiting. When Rihanna got out, her mouth hung open wide enough to catch flies. She wore her signature bright miniskirt, looking both wildly out of place and hilariously endearing against the manor's medieval castle grandeur.
"Holy shit!" Rihanna came toward me, forgetting to even hug me, just gaping at everything. "Harper, are you sure this isn't a movie set? That fountain's real? Is that statue solid gold?"
"Definitely not brass, babe." I laughed, linking my arm through hers. "Come on inside."
In the entrance hall, the soaring ceiling and massive crystal chandelier made Rihanna groan dramatically. The sound immediately drew Anna's attention. She approached with a smile. "Good evening, miss. Is there anything I can do for you?"
"Uh, no, thanks." Rihanna tugged at her skirt hem nervously, then leaned close to whisper, "Does the maid think I'm some hick who's never seen anything? Because she'd be right."
"Anna's sweet. She won't think that." I patted her hand.
The tap of a cane on the stairs echoed down. Olga descended slowly. Out of her nursing home clothes, she carried real presence—that natural aristocratic authority made Rihanna snap her mouth shut and straighten her spine instinctively.
I felt nervous. I hoped Olga wouldn't dislike Rihanna's loud personality.
"Your friend?" Olga's sharp gaze swept over Rihanna, lingering on her worn heels.
"Yes, Grandmother." I hurried to introduce them. "This is Rihanna, mybest friend."
Rihanna stammered nervously. "H-hello, Mrs. Orlov. Your house is just... incredible."
The faintest smile touched Olga's stern face. She nodded. "Welcome. Harper has few friends here. It's good you came to keep her company. This house is so big it runs cold. It needs more life."
She looked at me, her expression softening. "Harper, I'm going out tonight. You're mistress of this house. Make sure you take good care of your guest."
