Page 7 of Caged in Desire
“To actually answer your question, mornings are a little freer than in the past. Instead of lessons, I have time to relax and read unless there’s a meeting scheduled, like tomorrow. I still walk after lunch. You should really join me more, by the way. It’s so good for your digestion.”
Sasha rolls his eyes at me, but I continue.
“Afternoons are packed with fittings and picking out details for every household item you can imagine. Did you know there are eleven categories of towels every woman is expected to have in her house? Eleven! Daytime, nighttime, pool, fancy pool…it’s a nightmare, honestly. I’m still keeping up my fitness, though. That hasn’t changed. I have to be able to kick your butt if the situation calls for it.”
He’s back to assessing me now, and I know there’s nothing for it. Sasha cares about me, and he’s going to worry. I think he’s been a little bit concerned about my marriage since we found out about it on my sixteenth birthday.
“I just want you to be happy. This guy seems nice enough, but I hate you being a pawn in Pavel’s stupid quest for greatness. I’m glad you’re going to get out into the world a bit, at least.”
Standing up to stretch, I reach a hand out to pull Sasha up off the couch.
“I. Will. Be. Fine. I promise. I’m excited. Nervous, of course, but who wouldn’t be? And a little sad, too, to leave. I’ve been trapped here, technically, yes. But it’s like a hundred acres and twenty thousand square feet. I don’t think anyone would classify this as a prison. Besides, we found enough hidden rooms andforgotten gardens out in the grounds that it felt like we were miles away sometimes.
“I do feel happy to get to know Henry. I was always going to have an arranged marriage regardless, and all the info I’ve been given makes him seem like a good man. I think I’ll be okay. Maybe I’ll even luck out and fall in love. If not with him, then with his giant di—”
“Okay, okay! I’m so happy for you, and you’ve convinced me you’re alright. I love you, and I’ll see you later. Bye!”
Cackling, I watch Sasha scurry away from me as fast as possible.
Before I can go back to enjoying my quiet morning, I’m caught by Satan’s mistress herself, Mrs. Nixon.
“Ah, Kat, there you are. I’m so glad I was able to find you. The shipment of your holiday linens has arrived for our review this evening, so I’m hoping to move up our intimacy lessons. I see you’re free now. Come.”
I breathe deeply, reminding myself that soon I’ll be completely free of this harpy of an estate manager whom my father is obsessed with. I’m not sure where exactly he found her, but one day he showed up with her in tow, gave her a black American Express card, and allowed her to start managing almost every aspect of the house and grounds. Luckily, she mostly had more important things to do than micromanage me, and my schoolmaster had the final say over almost all of the hours in my day. But she infringed on my autonomy whenever she could, overhauling my wardrobe and renovating my suite of rooms to her taste.
Recently, though, her actions as a wedding planner have been enough to drive even the sanest person crazy. Minutiae of the wedding, my trousseau, my deportment…all have fallen in her line of fire, and I’m almost to the limit of what I’ll have toendure. Luckily, I’ll soon be free of her and this place, rescued by my knight in shining armor.
“Henry!”
I’m interrupted from my thoughts as Mrs. Nixon leans primly against her desk in her office, having led me across the house like an animal to slaughter.
“Henry should be the only thing you’re thinking about these days, so I’m glad his name is what snapped you out of your daydreaming. Now. As I told you earlier this week, today’s lesson is all about the body, and dressing it seductively to please your husband. It’s important to remember it isyour jobto maintain yourself to his liking. We’ve already gone over how to subtly ensure your hair and makeup are his preferences, and the physical form is no less important!”
She slowly stands to circle me, eyeing my casual outfit of choice today, a pale blue and white knit skirt set that’s comfy for moving about the house without getting cold.
“You’re already at a disadvantage. First, no man wants a virgin. Imagine if you hadn’t had me to tell you all about sex, how annoying that would be for a man to have to teach you. It’ll still be trying for your husband to have to show you how to please him, but I’ve done what I can. Second, men prefer softer, feminine physiques, and this muscle tone in your shoulders is unseemly. Must you continue your karate?”
“It’s jujitsu, and yes, it’s important to me.”
Rolling her eyes, Mrs. Nixon stops in front of me. “And you’re going to have to get used to wearing platform heels. I can’t imagine any man wanting to develop neck pain from bending over every time he wants a kiss. You’re a mismatch for Mr. Sinclair in that way, certainly.
“Now, about this soft, casual aesthetic you seem to gravitate toward. I think red latex is the way to go, and we can—”
She’s interrupted by her phone ringing, and when she realizes it’s not going to be a quick conversation, I’m dismissed with a wave of her hand.
Saved by the bell, I practically run from her office, hoping to avoid any more sex talk for the day.
Chapter five
After my usual morning routine with Mr. Halpern, I used my free time this morning to release some nerves on the fencing piste. My father summoned me to his office a few days ago and instructed me to be in his office at ten o’clock sharp this morning. Usually, he’s hands-off when it comes to my management and maintenance, although lately, with wedding preparations, I’ve certainly been seeing more of him.
My relationship with my father has always been formal, and coupled with the fact that he spent most of the past nineteen years in Russia doing business, we’ve never been very close. He’s always provided well for me and ensured I had lovely people around, so I have nothing to complain about. I do wish he would tell me more about my mother, other than the fact that she died, but Sasha says it’s not uncommon for men of that generation to be emotionally stunted. They’re just too busy trying to make money to do something as silly as cry.Or connect with their daughter.
I’m sure he won’t be happy to see me in my current state, rushing from the piste to his office. My practice this morningexploded into a round-robin tournament, including more than a few of the staff who are proficient, so I’m a sweaty mess. I’m still carrying my saber, and my braid is coming loose. Finally, I arrive in the anteroom to his office, stopping with a couple of minutes to spare to catch my breath. Debating if I have enough time to redo my braid, I’m immediately distracted by two men playing chess while they wait as well.
Along with crosswords and puzzles in general, playing chess was encouraged throughout my childhood. Father considered it a more intellectual alternative to childish games, and I've gotten quite good over the years.
As I approach the men to see the board more easily, I see that the man facing away from me is tall, in a very nice suit, and has his pieces in an excellent position. He’s followed a relatively standard set of moves thus far, leading his opponent into a tidy trap. The man facing me clearly doesn’t play often if he’s managed to get himself into this pickle. Or, perhaps, he’s subtly throwing the match to ingratiate himself with Tall Man. Still, Tall Man could have made a number of different moves to leave an even more complete trap for Short Man. As it is, he’s left himself ever so slightly vulnerable.
