Since the wedding yesterday, I’ve officially been moved out of the basement and into the main part of the mansion. Apparently, becoming Leonid’s wife means inheriting an entire household.
Tatiana has spent the last hour parading staff members in front of me like I’m new royalty being introduced in a palace.
I find it deeply uncomfortable, but it’s nice for her to show me around, so I play along. She’s been incredibly kind to me since the first day we met, so the last thing I want is to upset her by telling her I’m bored as hell with hearing names I most likely won’t remember by tomorrow.
“Um…” I glance at Marrisa. Her copper hair has faded with age, silver threading through it, but traces of her beauty still remain in the sharpness of her features and the striking blue of her eyes. “And she is…?”
“She practically runs the household,” Tatiana explains. “Think of her as the chief maid.”
I nod politely. “Nice to meet you, Marrisa.”
The old woman smiles at me. “The pleasure is all mine, Mrs. Nazarov. I’m sorry I missed the wedding yesterday.”
Mrs. Nazarov.
The title hits me strangely every single time. I can’t imagine ever getting used to that name. Still, I force a smile. “It’s fine.”
Tatiana continues introducing the rest of the staff, but after a while, the names start blurring together under the exhaustion pressing against me. By the time she leads me upstairs, my chest feels tight.
“This will be your room from now on,” she says, pushing open one of the towering walnut double doors with polished brass handles, revealing a room with all black and white décor.
I know without a doubt who it belongs to.
I chuckle nervously. “I already have a room.”
One of the maids showed me to my new room last night, and it’s the one right across from Leonid’s.
“You do,” she admits, stepping inside. “And it’s this one. I chose the one right across from Leonid’s so it’d be more comfortable, but my brother insisted you share his.”
I follow her inside, my pulse racing with rage and anxiety. I wonder if I have a say in this, since I’m supposedly now the mistress of this house. But the way Tatiana turns around with a pitiful shake of her head is all the answer I need.
“When does Leonid come back?” I ask, folding my arms across my chest as I take in the room that I have to share with my new husband.
I can’t tell which is harder for me to get used to—being called Mrs. Nazarov or calling Leonid my husband. It’ll take at least a decade of living here for me to get accustomed to everything…if I survive that long, that is.
She shrugs. “I don’t know. He never tells me anything about his business.” She lets out a breath. “I’m only telling you this because I like you: my brother can be an absolute shithead sometimes, but if he’s marrying you, then I think he feels something for you.”
A sardonic laugh rips from my throat without warning. If she thinks there’s a chance that psychopath is even remotely in love with me, she’s crazier than I am.
“There’s no way Leonid loves me.”
“Maybe not in a conventional way, but I think he feels something for you, and you can use that to your advantage.” She slouches on the bed, and the mattress sinks under her weight.
I narrow my eyes at her. “How?”
“Rather than arguing about stupid things like what room you sleep in, why not try to negotiate a bit of freedom for yourself? You don’t seem like the type to throw your entire life out the window for a man. Think of something you’d love to do.”
I space out for a moment, with only one thought ringing in my head. “I’d like to work?”
She winks at me, and a grin spreads across her face. “Don’t say I told you.” Rising to her feet, she straightens herdress and starts for the door. “I’ll leave you to freshen up for a bit and get some rest. See you later!”
Before I can respond, the doors slam shut.
If those siblings have anything in common, it’s how they leave no room for negotiations whenever they make a decision.
Heaving an exhausted sigh, I lower myself onto the bed and sweep the room with my eyes. It’s nothing like my tiny Manhattan apartment. Although it’s minimalistic, I can tell from the finishing of the angel statue on the nightstand and the artwork hanging above the bed that every item in this room costs a fortune.
The bed’s large enough for four people, and I moan when I run my hand over the blanket beneath me. It’s so soft it feels like clouds.
