Page 5 of Dark Soul

Whatever else might be going on in her life, this she could never tire of. She’d seen a lot of snow as she was growing up, but never like this, snow that looked so fresh and untouched, as if every night God sprinkled some fresh powder and sharpened those peaks, getting them ready for the day ahead.

She almost laughed out loud at the thought. That was a service the Gstaad municipality could just about afford to pay for.

Gstaad in winter—she hadn’t been here long enough to know if it was the same in summer, but imagined the uber-wealthy migrated somewhere else by then—was the strangest of places.

The barista in the local Starbucks—and yes, she went to Starbucks for her coffee fix, rather than any of the local third wave coffee shops, not because she cared an iota about the coffee, but because walking into the Starbucks made her feel a little closer to home—had described Gstaad better than she ever could.

A town where even millionaires feel out of place.

To be someone in this town, millions weren’t enough. The entire town was designed for people whose net worth began with the b for billions.

And how much of that money they were willing to part with during their winter holiday determined the location and amenities they’d get in exchange. And how relevant they’d be in the town’s social scene.

Alexia hopped out of bed, making her way quickly to the bathroom, closing the door, and turning on the water as hot as it would go.

Thankfully, she’d remembered to set out her clothes the previous evening—black jeans, since her employer hated blue jeans, a thick undershirt and a beige turtleneck sweater. They waited for her on the beige ottoman in the far corner of her bathroom.

An ottoman in the bathroom.

It was one of the many things about this house she’d given up on understanding.

She pondered, as she did every morning, how the house could be so cold. As much as her boss spent on rent, and she was pretty sure her yearly salary would probably only cover a week’s rental of this house, if that, he didn’t seem willing to spend any money heating it. In the mornings, when the heating had been off all night, it was cold enough that she could just about see her breath every time she breathed out.

But maybe her employer, Arseny Kvyat, didn’t notice the cold like she did, since he’d grown up in a place that was much colder.

Even her charge, twelve-year-old Nikolai, had laughed when she’d mentioned the cold. Apparently, they all thought it was normal.

And maybe it was normal—in Russia.

But Alexia hated it.

She took the quickest shower imaginable, making sure not to get her hair wet, then dried herself briskly on the soft bath towels that were left for her every day. That luxury she could get used to. Towels that were soft like a cloud, and big enough to wrap her entire body in.

At eight-twenty five she was down in the enormous dining room, waiting for her employer and his son to arrive.

The cook had told her this was one of the few chalets in the area with an independent dining room. She assumed the implication was that it was one of the few chalets large enough to have both a large dining room and a large living area, without having to combine the two spaces.

The cook, who was Russian and traveled with the Kvyats wherever they went, seemed strangely proud about this, as if the status of her employer somehow translated to her as well.

The world of the uber-rich was like that. You had to listen to what they said, but also read between the lines to hear what they weren’t saying, but expected you to understand anyway.

Alexia squared her shoulders and settled down to wait.

Anything to avoid being late.

Her first week here, she’d seen her employer rant for hours after his masseuse had made him wait ten minutes.

Alexia wasn’t going to take the risk.

Four minutes.

She took a deep breath and looked out the large panoramic windows facing the deck—and the mountains beyond. Even the sight of the mountains wasn’t enough to soothe her, though.

This breakfast her employer insisted on sharing with her and with his son was easily the most stressful part of her day. And of Nikolai’s too, she was sure, though the boy had never spoken about it.

If there was one thing she’d learned about her charge in the month she’d been here, it was that the boy was loyal to a fault.

Two minutes.