Chapter 8: Natalia

“Mr. Dmitriyev expects you to eat at the designated times. You are also to put in a request for anything you might need,” Aleksander explains, straightening up as he cuts me a sideward glance. “Is that understood?”

“Yes. I understand.”

I swallow hard to keep myself from groaning and keep up my pace next to him as we walk down the long, formidable hallway with barren gray walls on either side of us.

Aleksander is Mikhail’s caretaker. His Russian accent is much thicker than Mikhail’s, and I get the feeling he only speaks English when he needs to.

Aleksander was the first person I met when I arrived an hour ago at this fortress of a home that belongs to Mikhail.

The first things I noticed were that both Aleksander and the house are as cold and callous as Mikhail is.

At first glance, Aleksander would seem like a mash-up of Alfred from Batman and Mr. Belvedere because of the well-tailored suit he’s wearing. However, his icy personality is nothing like either of them. I’d be more inclined to believe he was someone’s idea of their evil twin version.

He’s just shown me around the five-story mansion. I also got to meet the housing staff who so far seems to consist of three maids, two chefs, two gardeners, a pool guy, and a host of guards who all carry guns.

We walk out onto the third floor and stop by the balcony, where Aleksander motions to our surroundings and sets his hands by his sides.

“The only places in the house or the grounds that are off limits are Mr. Dmitriyev’s office, unless he tells you specifically to meet him there,” he says. “And the basement.”

“The basement?” I understand why the office would be off limits, but for him to tell me the basement is off limits, too, makes me think Mikhail must have all kinds of shit in there. Just like Raul did. Basement would have been the fancy word he used for the dungeon. It’s not the first time I’ve thought I traded one hell for another, or rather, I was drafted in. This basement issue is just one more example.

“Yes. Do you understand you aren’t to go anywhere you are not permitted?” he checks.

“Yes, I do. Where is he?”

I can’t even say Mikhail’s name. I don’t want to. I’m not likely to forget last night for many reasons. What he did to me will forever be burned in my mind.

I’ll never forget the way he made me come as if my body was made to react to his command. It terrified me and that was bad enough. Seconds later, he had his cock in my mouth, fucking my face. I can still taste his cum in the back of my throat.

I’m sure at any point now he’ll make his presence known. I was shocked, to say the least, that he wasn’t on the flight this morning. I want to know where he is and what time I’m likely to see him so I can prepare my mind.

“Mr. Dmitriyev will see you later. Until then, you are in my care.”

“Okay.” That sounds like I might have some time but doesn’t exactly tell me much of what I need to know.

“Did you need him for something?”

“No,” I reply a little too quickly.

The look of scrutiny he gives me makes me wonder if my tone was harsher than intended. I’m trying to be careful, as careful as I can be; it’s just hard when I’m so on edge. And I still have no idea what’s happening to José.

I stayed in Adriana’s room last night and must have bathed ten times until I thought I was clean enough, yet I still feel dirty.

I couldn’t sleep either. Who could sleep after what happened? I also knew if I dared to, the nightmares would pick up where reality left off.

I kept hoping I’d see José, but I didn’t. At the crack of dawn, two armed guards escorted me from Mexico. We left on a private jet.

Since I’d never been to New York before, I had no idea how long the journey was going to take, and being with them increased my anxiety. All I knew was that it would be a long journey, and I was right. It took six hours to fly here, and an additional half an hour to reach the house. So, I probably travelled for a total of eight hours.

I also knew the weather was going to be very different from Mexico. I was right about that, too. The furthest I’ve ever gone was San Francisco to visit my grandmother before she died. I also went to Florida when my parents took me to places like Disney World when I was little. Both places were as sunny as Mexico.

It’s colder here. Cold like it might snow, so I was given a coat to put over the little dress I was wearing. I’m still wearing the coat, although the house is a lot warmer inside. The coat is more for comfort than anything.

The only good thing to come out of this crazy scenario of me impersonating a cartel princess is getting to take Adriana’s beautiful clothes and shoes. I packed five suitcases, and the men are packing the other stuff to have it shipped here. It was anger that made me pack what I could. Anger for all the times she made me clean her shoes more than they needed to be cleaned and wash her clothes just because she wanted to keep me busy.

I left Mexico in the beautiful baby blue skater dress she told me was worth more than my life when she caught me looking at it sometime after she’d bought it.

“There are a few things Mr. Dmitriyev wants you to do before he gets back.”

I don’t like the sound of that.

“Like what?”

“A doctor will be here shortly to check you and administer your contraception injection.”

The blood drains from my body. That bastard. “Check me for what?” I fume.

“I don’t think I need to spell it out.”

No, he doesn’t need to spell it out, except I told that asshole last night that I’m a virgin. That means I shouldn’t need any checks.

“The doctor will be here in about ten minutes,” he continues. “We’ve sealed off the front living room for your examination.”

“I already have a contraception injection.” I got it last week in prep for my sale in the auction. Of course, I won’t tell anyone that. Since it takes seven days to take effect, Raul wanted everything nice and ready for the big day, so he prepped me like a Thanksgiving turkey.

“You can speak to the doctor about that. He will test you and establish what medications you need.”

“I don’t understand why I need to see a doctor,” I argue.

He gives me a narrowed look. “I’m certain you know by now that you are to do as you are told without any exceptions or arguments. So, if I were you, Miss Alvarez, I’d make life easier for myself. Especially given who you are.”

He looks me up and down with the same hatred I witnessed in Mikhail and the guards.

Of course, the hatred would be there. I keep forgetting everyone thinks I’m Adriana Alvarez. So, everyone hates me like they would her because everyone thinks my father ordered the killing of Mikhail’s mother and sister.

The shitty thing about it is, if people knew who I was, they’d kill me. They’d kill me because Natalia de Leon isn’t worth anything. Not even the dress she’s wearing.

“Understood?” he asks, and I manage a nod. “You may wait in the living room if you wish, or the bedroom. Take your pick.”

“I’ll wait in the living room. I just need to go to the bathroom first.”

“Very well. I believe you know the way. Do not keep the doctor waiting.” He says that in the same commanding tone I remember Adriana using in regard to the seamstress.

“I won’t.”

The bathroom on this floor is to our left. I move away from him and head right in, locking the wooden door behind me.

I don’t really need to use the bathroom; I just needed the break. These few moments are the only reprieve I can steal for myself. I’ve been stealing them since last night to gather my thoughts.

Right now, I just need to cry a little.

Just a little. Not too much to trigger the real pain that’s cutting deep into me from the center of my core.

I look at my face in the mirror and notice the bruise on my cheek.

It’s darker today in contrast to my skin.

I draw in a shallow breath and allow a few tears to spill over my lids. These tears fall because I’m so fucking scared, I’m afraid to breathe.

I’m terrified, and I don’t know what’s going to happen from one moment to the next. I know Mikhail is not a man you mess around with, and I’m frightened someone is going to come up to me and blow my head off when they discover I’m not Adriana.

And fuck, what about the wedding?

He’s going to marry me thinking I’m someone else.

Jesus. I’ve gone from the fear of being placed up for auction to getting ready to marry a Russian mobster.

How the hell did that happen?

Gathering my strength, I splash some cold water on my face, pat my cheeks, and leave the bathroom.

By the time I get down the stairs and walk into the living room, the man I’m assuming is the doctor is already inside setting up. At least Raul allowed me to see a woman. This guy looks just as unwelcoming as everyone else.

“Please sit here,” he says, motioning to the armchair.

Like everyone keeps telling me, I do as I’m told and sit.

“I’ve had the contraception injection already,” I inform him.

“When?”

“Last week.”

“I’ll ascertain that.”

I say nothing more; I just go through the embarrassing motions.

I give him my arm to take blood and spread my legs when he first checks I’m a virgin. He then takes samples to check me for diseases. I’m sure one is likely to confirm the other, but what do I know?

He’s probably just doing as he’s told, too. Or maybe this is part of my humiliation.

The whole thing takes a little over an hour, and when he’s done, he barely says two words to me before he leaves, and I’m summoned to lunch in the dining room.

After that ordeal, I don’t feel like eating, but I eat because I haven’t since yesterday at breakfast. At least the maid who serves me the food seems more human, but she doesn’t talk to me, and when she leaves and heads back to the kitchen, I hear her talking to the others in Russian. I don’t know if she didn’t talk to me because she was told not to, or if it’s because she doesn’t speak English and I don’t speak Russian.

She served me a delicious-looking chicken casserole with boiled rice and a side of blanched vegetables. The meal smells and tastes as divine as it looks when I tuck in to eat.

It’s definitely better than anything I’ve eaten in the last five years. Raul’s servants like me were given the same thing he fed to the dogs—scraps.

It’s been nine years since I had anything close to a home-cooked meal like this. That was before Raul took my family.

It was the eve of my tenth birthday when his men stormed our house. They came at night and dragged us out kicking and screaming. Black bags were placed over our heads, and we were taken.

That was when my mother and I knew Papa lost his job in the city and he’d not only been drug muling for Raul, but he owed him money. A lot of money.

I was never told how much, but I don’t think the amount mattered. Even if it was ten Pesos, Raul would have still taken us.

We went to live on the plantation like the other men who worked the opium fields.

I was allowed to finish high school, but that was as far as my education went, and my dreams for my future in medicine. I wanted to be a doctor like my mother was. That’s what led her to Mexico and how she met my father. She was a diagnostician. She came to work in a research center in Cancun. I wanted to go down the same route, and if my life were different, that’s what I’d do. I know that’s nothing but a dream now, and I should force it out of my mind.

My mother was forced to give up her dream to work in the fields, and my father trafficked drugs and people for Raul. All for free. They worked to pay Raul back.

They worked night and day to pay back a debt that would never be paid.

Then, to add salt to the wounds, Raul always had his eyes on my mother. He just never did anything until his wife was killed by his enemies.

That happened two years ago.

Days after he buried his wife, he started making sexual advances on my mother, which she refused. His final attempt was what did it, though. It was like he’d had enough of her refusal. She managed to escape him and came home with her clothes ripped up and bruises all over her face. She begged my father to take us away. Before he could think of an answer, Raul came with Felipe and his guards.

Papa tried to save her, but Raul threatened my life if he intervened. They held a gun to my head and made him kneel execution style so he could watch Raul rape my mother, then kill her.

We both watched helplessly.

My world ended that night and I’ll never forget it. Even when my father was killed, I didn’t experience the same devastation. Not because I loved him any less than my mother. It was just that Mom’s death broke me.

It was at that moment when I realized nothing was stable and nothing was in my control.

I was already in hell, and I expected bad things to happen. After Mom died, Papa vowed to get me out because he knew it was only a matter of time before I suffered the same fate. That vow is what killed him.

Something catches my eye through the floor-to-ceiling glass windows.

When I lift my head, I watch as wisps of snowflakes fall onto the ground.

I’ve never seen snow in real life before.

I focus on it, when out from the evergreen hedge runs a white snow dog with ghost-like eyes. I’m not sure, but I think it could either be a Siberian Husky or an Alaskan Malamute. I’m not exactly well versed in dog breeds, but I’m sure it’s one or the other. And it’s exceptionally beautiful.

Quickly, I finish the little food left on my plate, then grab my coat from the living room, where I left it after the examination.

I slip it on and venture outside through the sliding doors.

The dog is way down the path now, so I quicken my pace and go after it. I try not to run and frighten it away.

When I get close, it turns and sees me, and I realize then that its eyes are ice blue.

After being around Raul’s guard dogs that were trained to kill if they thought you were escaping, this creature is a breath of fresh air, and breathtaking. I never expected to witness something so beautiful here. The snow falls and melts in its fur, and my hair, too.

I can’t help myself. I bend down and touch the dog’s soft fur, and when it dips its head for me to continue stroking, I do, savoring the feel of the softness and gentleness of the animal.

It comforts me somewhat.

When it moves to pick up a twig from the side with its mouth and hands it to me, I realize it must want to play.

I throw the twig not far down the path, and the dog takes off to retrieve it.

It does the same thing again, and I find myself playing in the snow as it falls a little heavier.

The dog starts barking at something behind me, and when I turn around to see Mikhail standing on the terrace, everything inside me freezes like the icy snow falling around us. I was able to stave off the cold before, but now I’m freezing from deep within, like the coldness is resonating from inside my body.

Mikhail is dressed in black again, and as he walks toward me in the brightness of the day, it feels like I’m in a surreal dream. Everything in my head is telling me to run away, but I know I can’t run anywhere.

I’m not quick to forget the warning of what he’ll do to me if I try to escape. I’m sure mere running away from him will garner the same shitty result.

So, I stay.

I stay right where I am, steel my spine, and watch him walking toward me like the angel of death.