Vlad and Dimitri were stationed like statues near the staircase. “There’s food in the kitchen,” I said without looking at them. “I’ll be in my room until seven.”
I caught Dimitri’s voice drifting behind me as I climbed. He was saying something in Russian, and I didn’t need to turn around to know he was already half-charmed by the cook. I almost smiled.
Almost.
My suite was... unsettling.
Deep red drapes, gold-accented furniture, and that unmistakable scent of roses and cedar, just like my room back home. Down to the same layout. Even the vanity was identical. I walked to the walk-in closet and slid the mirrored door open.
My breath caught.
Row after row of dresses, blouses, heels, handbags, everything tailored, color-coded, and impossibly familiar. A wardrobe fit for a woman who had no intention of ever leaving.
Except I hadn’t sent anything ahead. I hadn’t packed more than a suitcase. Which still sat unopened on the dressing bench.
My appetite vanished.
Storming downstairs, I found all three of them, Vlad, Dimitri, and Molly, chatting as if they were old friends in a country kitchen instead of accomplices in my gilded imprisonment. The moment I entered, conversation ceased.
“Would someone care to explain why my closet is stocked like I’m moving in?”
Dimitri and Vlad exchanged one of those loaded glances that made me want to slap them both.
Vlad cleared his throat. “Your father said you might be here for... a while.”
The burn of betrayal swept through me like acid.
I didn’t wait for further explanation. I turned, strode down the hall, found the bar, and poured a glass of vodka so full it bordered on criminal. Then I carried it back to my room like a talisman.
Sitting by the window, untouched food beside me, I dialed the number I’d memorized before I could read.
He answered on the first ring.
“Polina, darling. Everything alright at home?”
“Home?” I repeated, ice in my voice. “This isn’t my home, and you know it. But since you’ve already redecorated my prison cell, maybe you’d care to explain the wardrobe? I’m assuming I didn’t suddenly inherit a double life.”
There was a pause, one long enough to make my skin prickle.
“I’ve become aware of your recent... excursions,” he said smoothly, voice dipped in false concern. “Let’s just say it’s time for a course correctionSolnishko. What would people think if they discovered mylittle sunfrequents certain risqué... clubs?”
My stomach dropped. Cold. Hollow.
He knew.
“I’ve donenothingwrong,“ I said, fighting to keep my voice even. “I’m an adult, and I don’t need your permission to live my life. And in case you’ve forgotten, I had interviews scheduled this week—actual progress, genuine opportunities.”
A sound, soft and metallic, echoed through the room.
The lock.
I stood so quickly my chair scraped against the floor. I rushed to the door, turned the handle and found it unmoving.
Locked. From the outside.
“Are you insane?” I hissed into the phone. “You can’t do this. I’m not sixteen!”
“You’re right,” he said calmly. “You’re twenty-four. Old enough to understand that actions have consequences. You’ll stay there until I’m satisfied this... phase has passed. Be ready at seven.”
