Page 20 of Beautifully Damned
Elena comes out of the kitchen, holding a tray of food. Her hair’s in a low bun, her apron neat and tight. She walks past us to where one of the guards stands—one I’ve seen posted near my hallway before. Tall. Buzz cut. Broad shoulders. Elena hands him the tray. They speak in hushed voices. I strain to hear.
Eavesdropping is rude, yes. But I’ve been kidnapped. I think the rules of basic manners no longer apply. And what if it’s about me? What if my baba finally called the right person, threatened the right man, offered the right deal? What if this whole thing is about to be over?
“...Podushka,” I hear the guard say. That’s pillow, right? He scratches his head, looking deeply offended.
“Pillow falls on head.” He taps his temple, deadpan. “I move. Two seconds later? Full blanket. Boom.” He throws both hands in the air. “On face.”
I choke on my orange juice.
Elena raises an eyebrow. “You sleep on shift again?”
Elena’s accent makes sense now; she never leaves the house and spends most of her time with newly shipped men from Russia.
“Nyet,” he says, narrowing his eyes. “I stand post like good soldier. Ghosts came for me.”
Elena hums. “I think girl with sunshine face threw them in a tantrum, and you get collateral damage.”
“I take bullet for Pakhan. I did not sign up for home decor from sky.”
Elena laughs.
“You laugh now, but maybe tonight—fork fall. Knife. Whole mattress next,” he warns her.
My face is the reddest it’s ever been. I’m sure I look guilty as charged. So much for deleting last night from my memory.
“You’re eavesdropping,” Roman accuses, his jaw ticking.
“I’m not, they just speak loudly.” I lie. “But hey, at least they talk like normal people.”
“I see,” he says, leaning back, arms folded. “You want casual conversation? Should I discuss the weather with you while we throw around furniture, little lamb?”
“I wasn’t the one who threw the pillows out the window,” I mutter.
“No? You just enjoy throwing them at me then?”
“You were— you were hovering over me like a demon. My fight or flight kicked in.”
“More like throw-and-regret,” he bites.
I open my mouth. Close it. Open it again. “Why were you even in my room?”
“You talk too much.”
“You barged in. Sat in my chair. Then climbed on top of me. Like yeah okay, you can be blood thirsty, but creepy too?”
“You tempted—”
“Tempted? I was wearing a t-shirt and drooling on a pillow!”
He says nothing, but he looks like he wants to strangle me and maybe himself too. We both fall silent again.
Across the room, Elena smacks the guard lightly with the edge of her tray. “You’re dramatic.”
“I deserve hazard pay.”
“Shut up and eat.” She orders, but there’s a small smile on her face.
And even though the command wasn’t meant for me, I do just that.
