Page 89 of One For my Enemy

She added a little whine to her voice. When she was gone, the buyer would remember her as whiny, entitled, demanding. He’d probably have a conversation with Eric about how women could be so exhausting.Impossible to live with, right?he’d say, and add something about how the head was barely even worth it.

And Eric would laugh, of course.

Because Eric was shitty.

“Not quite, babe,” Eric told her, giving her nose a patronizing tap. She wasn’t even sure whether that was part of the pretense, or if it was something he’d recently convinced himself he could do. She’d have to prove him wrong later. “Want me to meet up with you later? Dietrich and I have to finalize some things here.”

Dietrich.She really needed to listen better, or care more.

“Fine,” she said, rising stiffly to her feet. She felt the unwelcome presence of Dietrich’s eyes on her and fought the reflexive urge to gouge them out. “See you later, then.”

She added a little sway to her walk and wandered into the foyer. Dietrich had the penthouse; the elevator opened straight to his suite. He was terrible and rich, as a matter of objective fact, just like Eric was well-connected and shitty. It was an unpleasant errand, and Sasha lamented that she could see her reflection in the metallic finish of the elevator doors as they shut, finally drowning out the sound of whatever trap album was pulsing from the room where Dietrich and Eric remained.

The entire world looked different without Lev in it, with nothing more unrecognizable than Sasha herself. Every new adornment since he’d gone was unnatural and heavy; the false eyelashes, the glittering chandeliers that hung from her lobes, all of it seemed to be dragging her to the floor. Her dress was several inches shorter than she would have wanted it to be, her shoes several inches higher. She was playing a character, she reminded herself; she was acting, filling a role.

Still. It was starting to be a little difficult to draw the line anymore.

The doors opened and Ivan rose to his feet, offering her coat.

“How’d it go?” he asked.

“Well enough,” Sasha said, letting him help her into it. “Did Masha call?”

“Yes,” Ivan said. “I told her everything was fine.”

“And is it?” Sasha asked bitterly. “Fine, I mean.”

Ivan hesitated, rightfully determining she wasn’t discussing this particular deal. “Lev deserved better than what happened to him,” he said quietly. “Sasha, if you need time to mourn—”

“I don’t,” Sasha said flatly. “And don’t talk about him, Ivan,” she added, removing her sunglasses from her purse and sliding them into place. “He’s gone.”

IV. 9

(Everything in Retrospect.)

“How is she?” Yaga asked in a low voice, and Marya angled her gaze towards the window, staring vacantly out of the frame.

“Not well,” Marya admitted, folding her arms over her chest. She paused for less than a breath before adding, “It’s not unlike when I lost Dima.”

For twelve years, she hadn’t dared speak his name aloud for fear it might crack open her ribs, puncturing her insides and bleeding her dry from the pain of it. Now, though, without the wrench in her chest reminding her what it felt like to lose him, she could breathe a little easier. His unrelenting grip on her was less anguished; her past was less constricting now that there was nothing left of her to hold.

If Yaga heard the difference in her daughter’s voice, she said nothing. Instead, she asked, “Are we in danger of losing her?”

Marya turned stiffly. “Did you loseme,Mama?”

“Masha.” Yaga’s voice was low. “You and Sasha are not the same.”

True enough.

“She’s angry,” Marya permitted after a moment. “But she has a purpose, as I did. We drag ourselves up, Mama, like always.” She let her gaze fix on her mother’s; on the dark eyes so similar to her own. “Like you.”

Yaga hesitated a moment. “But you didn’t lose Dima, Masha.” She reached out, curling the backs of her fingers along Marya’s cheek. “You gave him up. You chose me.”

Marya said nothing.

“You chose me over your love for him, and I do not forget it,” Yaga promised her. “But, as for Sasha—”

“It doesn’t matter whether Lev Fedorov was taken or given up,” Marya said firmly. “Sasha has no reason to stray from your side. Or from your vision.”

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