Page 63 of Cashmere Ruin

“Will you require assistance?” asks Grisha.

I shake my head and smile. “Thanks, but I think I’ll be okay.”

“Big place for someone to visit on their own,” he observes. “You might get lost.”

On my own.It’s weird, hearing it from someone else’s mouth: how alone I am. “True. We had a few gardeners that never returned. They say it’s the south hedge—swallows them whole.”

“That sounds frightening. Shall I call Matvey, then?”

Matvey.Just the thought of him makes my heartbeat freeze. I tried to tell him so many times… that this was coming, that I wasn’t ready, that I didn’t want to do this alone.

But he never listened.

“It’s fine,” I reassure Grisha. “We’ll do fine.”

He acquiesces with a small bow. “I’ll be right outside.”

Then, with my baby swaddled to my chest, I take a deep breath and step through the gates.

“Wonderful to see you again, Miss April. May I take your coat?”

In the Flowers mansion, you can’t go two steps without encountering staff of some kind or other. When I was a kid, it was just the cook and maid, but after Grandma passed away, the ranks filled up considerably: a butler, a footman, a dedicated laundry maid, an army of nannies. It’s like Regency England crashed into the Upper East Side through a rift in space and time. Any minute now, I’m half-expecting to run into the Duke of Hastings.

“Thanks, Jonathan.”

My coat is kidnapped to the guest wardrobe. I hold onto my bag: diapers aside, it still has my sketches. If Dominic forgets I’m here—as he usually does—at least I’ll have something to do while Grisha brings the horse-drawn carriage around.

“Someone will be with you shortly,” Jonathan says.

“Mhmm.” I know better than most what “shortly” means around here. Just making it from the dining room to the closest bathroom is enough of a trek to give you bladder rupture.

With that in mind, I sit.

I notice May looking around with curious little eyes. Everything must seem so sparkly to her: the immaculate floors, the hanging chandelier, the gold buttons on the staff’s uniforms. If Matvey’s place screams “money,” this mansion takes it up a notch, broadcasting one word only: opulence.

Another reason my father and grandmother didn’t see eye to eye.

Back when I used to live with Maia, we never splurged on such luxuries. Not because she didn’t have the money, but because we didn’t need anything more than we had. Our little brownstone made us happy, and we made each other happy. That was enough. What nest egg Maia had left, she was keeping safe for the future—hers and mine.

But now, Maia’s gone, and my future is a golden handrail on a staircase.

“Shh,” I hum to soothe May’s sudden fussing. Sometimes, I think she’s almost too attuned to the emotions of the people around her. “It’s okay. Maybe he’s forgotten about us. Maybe we can go home soon.”

The words haven’t been out of my mouth for five seconds before a rumbling voice calls my name from the top of the stairs. “April.”

My head snaps up.He’s here.

And he isn’t alone. “April, dear. How long it’s been!”

Nora.

Arm in arm, the couple descends the curving staircase. They’re the picture of elegance and grace, their steps small and measured. As they make their way down, Nora’s manicured hand delicately follows the line of the handrail, her luscious ebony skin jutting out against the gold.

“Hi,” I squeak. “Dominic. Nora.”

“You look well,” Dominic offers blandly. He puts his hand forth for a handshake, like he’s greeting a business partner instead of a daughter. No, a businessassociate—one that’s new to the scene and also several steps below him.

I give him a lukewarm handshake. “You, too.”

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