Page 88 of Under Control

That’s the sick part of all this. If Valentin hadn’t kidnapped Arsen, I don’t think Aram would’ve kidnapped my mother. A part of me blames him for what’s happening, which I know isn’t exactly rational.

Mama’s the one that took money from her brother. She’s the one that buried us both in crippling debt. If she hadn’t done that, I never would’ve married Valentin, and her brother never would’ve tried to shake her down.

We’d be happy.

Except we wouldn’t be.

Papa would still be gone. We might have some money and a little freedom to keep living, but Mama would still be a total wreck, and I’d still be drifting with no skills and no real future.

Luka would be free, but he’s always been free.

My mind can’t settle down. It skitters around, blaming Valentin, blaming Mama, blaming myself. Nothing helps and nothing quiets the pain.

At least until the door opens and the lights snap on.

“Okay, enough with the hiding and the crying.” Nikkita’s voice, stern but not mean. “Time to have tea.”

I poke my head out from the covers and blink at her. My vision’s blurry and it takes a second to adjust to the light. “What are you talking about?”

“Tea,” she repeats, placing a tray down on the table. “Also sandwiches. I can get something else if you’d like.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“Get up.” She stares at me, her arms crossed, like a disappointed grandmother. “You cannot hide away from life. The eyes are afraid but the hands are still doing it.”

“The eyes are… what are you talking about?”

She grunts and waves in the air. “It’s a Russian saying. Means you feel afraid, that’s okay, but you keep going. You do not give up.”

“The hands are still doing it.” I lie back and stare at the ceiling. “No, thanks, I’m good.”

She curses at me in Russian and yanks the covers away. I yelp and leap up, glaring at her.

“Come. Tea now.” She gestures, smiling sweetly, and pours two cups.

I hesitate, surprised as she sits down and sips. She gestures again for me to join her, and I curse myself for being such a polite dickhead, because I can’t turn down an invitation.

It would be rude.

“I’m not happy about this,” I say, sitting across from her and reluctantly drinking. My stomach rumbles, and I eat a little sandwich. “I’m hungry, okay? But I refuse to like it.”

Even though it’s absurdly good. Cucumbers, cream cheese, and soft white bread.

“Appetite comes with eating,” she says, sounding very smug.

“Another Russian saying?”

She nods once. “I’m full of them. I’m an old woman, I can’t help myself.”

I chew and drink more tea and actually feel better despite myself. I peer at Nikkita as she takes small bites.

“You know Valentin pretty well, right?”

“Yes, I know him.” Her face softens a touch. “Too well, I think.”

“Is he a good person?”

That makes her face pinch up again. “What a foolish question.”

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