She didn't say it outright, but I heard the subtext loud and clear. She was backing me up. Telling me I had authority here.
Probably because of Olga's special instructions, dinner was lavish. Afterward, I took Rihanna on a casual tour of the manor.
She was fascinated by every room, constantly marveling at the antique furniture, oil paintings, and crystal fixtures.
"This really is like a castle from a fairy tale." Rihanna sighed. "I can't believe you actually live here."
"Yeah, honestly, sometimes I wonder if I'm dreaming too."
We climbed to the third floor, walking down a long corridor. I was planning to show Rihanna the rooftop terrace when her footsteps stopped. She stared at the door at the end of the hall, eyes bright with curiosity.
"What's that?" she whispered.
"That's Kirill's study." I lowered my voice, too.
"Study?" Rihanna's eyes lit up. She grabbed my arm. "Harper, take me in! Please, please, please!"
"I don't know..."
"Just a peek!" Rihanna begged. "You know how curious I am! In movies, mafia bosses' offices always have guns, stacks of cash, secret maps. I really want to see what the real thing looks like! And you're his wife—looking shouldn't be a problem, right?"
I bit my lip. Kirill's study had always been off-limits. Only Boris and Anna were allowed in to clean. But thinking it over—after last night, our relationship was different now.
I was his wife. Showing Rihanna the study for one secondshouldn't be too much, right? And deep down, I wanted to see where he worked. I wanted to know him better.
"Fine. But just a quick look." I gave in.
We tiptoed to the oak door. It was slightly ajar. No lights inside.
"He's not back yet," I whispered, pushing the door open.
Sunlight streamed through the massive windows, illuminating an entire wall of books and that enormous black walnut desk big as a bed.
For a moment, I couldn't help imagining how handsome Kirill must look sitting there working.
"Oh my God!" Rihanna walked into the study with genuine awe. "This is exactly like I pictured."
She ran to the bookshelves, looking everywhere, while I stood in the center of the room feeling uneasy. After all, I'd snuck Rihanna into Kirill's study without permission. It didn't feel right.
"Rihanna, that's enough. We looked. Kirill might—"
I tried pulling the excited Rihanna out, but she cut me off.
"Harper, look at this!" Rihanna suddenly pointed at the wall behind the desk.
I turned, following her finger.
In the light from the window, I saw it clearly—a huge oil painting hanging directly behind Kirill's desk. Right where he'd see it every time he looked up.
My breathing stopped.
The woman in the painting was devastatingly beautiful.
She wore a gold fringed gown, lounging lazily on a red velvet sofa. Her hair was waves of molten gold, her skin white as the finest jade. Flawless.
She looked like an exquisite porcelain doll. Perfect in every way.
I stared at the painting, my hand rising unconsciously to touch my own face. My fingers found rough skin and those damn freckles across my nose that no makeup could hide.
