Page 16 of Beautiful Deception

“He told me that as well. He’s a developer, I believe. Owns a lot of properties. Brings in income that way.”

So, either Mrs. Green doesn’t know that Viktor is a part of the Russian Mafia or she’s just not telling me that she knows.

“You need to get back to work,” she says.

I glance at the clock on the wall. “I still have fifteen minutes. I’d like to rest my feet.”

“Do you want Mr. Smirnov to come home to a dirty house?”

“I already cleaned all the bathrooms and the floors.”

“And you have yet to clean the kitchen counters. Or wipe down the windows. Or do the laundry. Get to it.”

Instead of arguing with Mrs. Green, I just do as she tells me.

By the time four pm comes around, I’m ready to go to bed. I’ve never worked this hard in my entire life.

But my day isn’t over yet.

I have to make dinner with Mrs. Green.

“I’ll get working on the pot roast,” she says. “You make the green bean casserole.”

I look around the kitchen. “Do you have the recipe?”

She stares at me for a second before she laughs. “Why would I have a recipe? Don’t you know how to make green bean casserole? You told Mr. Smirnov that you know how to cook.”

“Yes but… I don’t have everything memorized. I’ll need a recipe.” Am I in the wrong for not knowing these recipes by heart?

She makes an annoyed sound in the back of her throat. “I’ll write it down for you. But this better not happen again.”

“Just tell me in advanced what we’re making and I’ll make sure I’m prepared next time.”

“I did tell you in advance. I told you this morning.”

“So I have time to look up each dish and memorize the recipe,” I say.

She hands me the hastily scrawled green bean casserole recipe with a pinched face. “You do that.”

I can barely read her handwriting but I don’t dare ask any questions. I want to keep my head on my shoulders, thank you very much.

Mrs. Green whips through the pot roast like it’s nothing. While she does that, she also works on the stuffed potatoes. It’s impressive how fast she moves.

It takes me a much longer time to make the casserole. Between all the ingredients and deciphering Mrs. Green’s handwriting, it takes me over an hour.

“We need to get this in the oven,” she says in a frantic tone. “You need to hurry this up. I did not sign up for this job to work with someone so incompetent.”

I want to snap at her and ask her what she’s been doing all day because I know it hasn’t been cleaning the entire house. As I moved through the house today, I spotted her reading magazines or watching TV at one point. She’s had more time to rest than me. I’m fine working for long hours but not when I’m going to be ridiculed for it.

But I don’t say a thing. Because I need this job. Because I need to keep my dad safe. Because I will have nowhere to live if I don’t make any money.

So, I finish the casserole and put it in the oven without complaint to Mrs. Green.

“Mr. Smirnov will be home in less than an hour. He’ll be eating later than I promised him. That’s on you.” She walks out of the kitchen like she has a stick up her butt.

Feeling drained and tired, I slump onto the kitchen table chair and cry my eyes out.

That’s how Viktor himself finds me.

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