Page 10 of Dark Bratva Christmas
“I'm sorry, Miss, I've been instructed to watch you,” Helena says, bowing her head while standing with her hands crossed in front of her. Her eyes bounce from her wringing fingers to me, as I sink lower into the warm water. It penetrates deep into my bones, and I shiver, as my muscles start to relax.
And it feels…good.
I almost forget Helena is there at all, soaking in the moment of peace.
Well, it’s peaceful until the older Russian woman steps into the doorway, clapping her hands together loud enough to make me jump. “We have one hour to make you presentable. Stop fooling around and wash the filth off of yourself. This isn’t what your generation calls aneverythingbath.”
It’s an everything shower, thanks.
But her words still catch me off guard, and I look back at Helena as the Russian woman exits. “Make me presentable for what? What’s going on?”
Helena just gestures to the soap. “It'll be easier if you just comply.”
I nervously sink a little lower into the tub, as the Russian woman takes inventory of everything happening in the room. She meets my eyes, holds them long enough to make my chest tighten with anxiety, and then exits.
What the hell is actually going on? Do I get to go home? What happened?
“Here.” Helena hands me a razor. “You need to shave your legs…and everything else.Raisa requests it.”
I stare at her. “Raisa?”
She shrugs. “The woman who was just in here.”
And that’s the best answer I get.
I quickly finish bathing, and then step out into a towel Helena’s holding in her hands at the ready for me. I wrap it around myself before she guides me to a chair set up in front of the bedroom mirror. A hairstylist is there with blow dryers, curling irons, and enough hair gels and creams to rival Guy Fieri's own collection.
Something is definitely going on…
“I need to know what’s happening,” I ask, my eyes on Raisa while the stylist brushes through my wet hair to start drying it.
“We need to leave her hair down. Make sure there are plenty of curls,” Raisa instructs the stylist, not answering my question. “We need to play on her best features for the sake of pictures.”
Pictures?
My eyes dart around the room as I rack my brain for an escape plan. But considering the fact that I’m stuck in a towel, and it’s freezing outside…
My options are limited.
And the room is too crowded with people for me to make it to the door without anyone intervening, anyway. Aside from Helena, Raisa, and the stylist, there are two men standing by the door with their hands clasped in front of them like bouncers at a nightclub. I know the moment I try anything, they're going to grab me and slam me right into place.
By now, I know how this works.
They’re never going to let me slip away. And it’s useless to try.
When I turn my attention back to the mirror, my hair is completely dry, voluminous blonde waves now hanging around my shoulders.
“Beautiful,” the stylist mutters under her breath, plumping my hair. “You look great.”
When she’s done using all the tools, she ties the front ends of my hair behind my head, clasping them together with a clip decorated with little green vines and pink flowers.
And that causes me to pause.
This is a wedding hair ornament.I know. I know because Ijustwent through this with Mikhail.
That thought is repeated in my mind like an echo chamber as the woman grabs a garment bag off the bed and unzips it, revealing a long white gown.
A wedding dress.
