Page 41 of For a Price

I freeze midchew, my skin warming. “Sorry,” I say, swallowing. “I guess it’s not very ladylike to suck down food like a Hoover vacuum.”

“You’re hungry. Don’t worry about it. It’s just the two of us. Besides, I like this side of you.”

“Hmmm?” I hum as I dip the roll in the gravy sauce. “You like what now?”

“This side of you. This… how do Americans say it… very real side. Not fake.”

I smile at him. “How long have you been speaking English?”

“Devochka,” he scolds.

“I like your accent. We’re even.”

“My kitty cat likes pushing buttons. She likes being bad. But I wonder if she’d be so bad if she knew she could be punished.” He closes the gap between us, stalking over to where I’m seated in the armchair. He takes my chin between his thumb and forefinger and peers down at me like he’s studying my face. “The swelling is going down. How do you feel?”

I swallow down my last bite of food. My skin’s only grown warmer the closer he’s come. The second he’s touched me. His skin on mine, however slight.

“The food’s helped,” I mumble.

“I can already tell. You’re getting chattier and chattier.”

I’d laugh at his teasing if not for feeling like there’s an elephant in the room I need to address.

“Roman, uh… I should probably thank you for what you did. For stepping in when you found me in the closet.” I blink to fight away the emotion that wells up in teardrop form. “You have no idea how relieved I was. It was… he wouldn’t stop…”

“No need to thank me. I’ve told you, anyone who touches you dies. And if it should happen again, you are to tell me. Understand, devochka?”

“But what if we’re?—”

“Immediately,” he cuts me off. “I want to know. Consider it an exception to my rule about how you’re to behave in public. You’ll tell me if it happens.”

“Okay,” I say, sensing his sincerity. It’s reassuring. “I promise I won’t keep it from you.”

“Good. Time to change. We’re leaving.”

“Leaving? Where? Am I being let go?—?”

“Devochka, you know better than to ask that,” he snaps, letting go of my chin. “You’re coming with me. To my home.Yourhome.”

A wave of dizziness rolls over me.

I’m not sure how to feel or what to say. Roman takes the tray away and gestures to the change of clothes he’s brought.

“We have a long trip ahead. Hurry and change.”

“It’s the middle of the night.”

“Yes,” he says. “That is intentional, devochka. The easier to leave unseen.”

He offers no other details, but by the tight set of his jaw, I’d say some kind of trouble is involved. He’s taking me in the middle of the night to avoid others knowing I’m gone. Could it be the sovietnik? Has he decided he’ll come for me?

I ask no more questions, doing as I’m told.

The clothes Roman has brought me this time are much more conservative. A turtleneck sweater, some pants, and a jacket. I change into everything, leaving my twist outs in place to finish air drying.

There’s nothing left in the room for me to take.

“Remember to behave,” Roman says, drawing the door open. “Follow my lead.”

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