Page 157 of Cashmere Cruelty

“LikeIsaid: you’re full of shit. If it’s so rigged, then why hold a contest at all?” Petra retorts.

I hesitate. “I guess… money doesn’t always guarantee you’ll make it. You also have to prove what you’re worth. That’s why there’s an audition—lots of people want this. Lots of rich people, even. But the spots are limited. You still have to earn yours.”

I watch Petra listen intently. “So if you want it, you have to take it,” she summarizes.

I’m reminded of Matvey’s words when we met:You saw something you liked. You took it.

And then?—

What do you want?

I sigh. “It’s complicated.”

For once, Petra doesn’t press. “This dress,” she says instead, pointing at the diamond gown. “It’s impressive. Must be worth a fortune.”

“They’ll put it on display at the expo,” I say. “Last year’s winner. They’ll be announcing this year’s at the same event.”

“So this pamphlet’s for next year?”

“Mhmm. Submissions close in a few months.”

Petra’s eyes fix on the tiara. “Can’t imagine what security’s like at events like these. That alone would feed a small country.”

I’m inclined to agree. “It’s probably the safest place to hang out.”

“Safe enough that Matvey would let you go?”

I blink. I hadn’t thought of that. “Probably? I’d still need a personal guard, I think. Unless you’d like to come,” I joke.

“Sure.”

“Right, didn’t think s—Sorry, what?”

“I said I’ll come,” she repeats. “That should be enough, right?”

For a second, I wonder if I’ve misheard. But no—Petra’s actually offering to take me somewhere.Withouta gun to her head. Are pigs going to start flying? Do I have to check outside for airborne pork?

“Unless you’ve got better places to be…?” she adds.

I quickly shake my head. This is a golden opportunity. I shouldn’t look the gift horse in the mouth. “Nope,” I reply. “Nowhere at all.”

This should make for a good conversation with Matvey, I think to myself. I’m shivering already.

48

APRIL

In the end, I don’t manage to ask. Not that night. Not any of the others that follow.

I keep telling myself I should find the right time. Catch him in a good mood, maximize my chances of success.

But Matvey’s never in a good mood anymore.

When he comes home, he’s as silent as the grave. If I try to coax him out of his shell with a joke, he’ll only give me the ghost of a smile. A twitch of his lips at best, and then it’s gone just as quickly as it came.

While we’re eating, he doesn’t look at me. He doesn’t speak to me, doesn’t ask about my day. Even after Dr. Allan’s visits, I’m the one who volunteers the information. I’ve started to suspect he’s got someone looking into her files just to avoid having to bring it up with me. Having to bringanythingup with me.

Except at night.

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