Satin Princess(100)

“She’s not going to get anywhere near, Jessa, you know,” Yulian says, breaking through my vengeful thoughts. “I’ll make sure of that.”

I look up at Yulian as the rage courses through my veins.

“I’ll protect her, brother,” he continues.

“Why does it sound like you think I can’t?”

Yulian looks taken back by the question. “I don’t think that.”

“No? Then why assure me that you’re going to protect my woman?”

His face hardens. But he doesn’t look pissed. Just determined.

“Because we’re brothers,” he says. “We’re family. And nothing will ever change that. Blood is thicker than water.”

I meet his gaze and nod. “Blood is thicker than water.”





34





JESSA





I meander through the broad corridors of Anton’s mansion, trying to find a corner of the house that feels like home to me.

But everywhere I look, I see Marina.

Did she choose the paintings on the walls?

Did she walk barefoot through the rooms just to feel the plush carpet beneath her feet?

Did the vase on the table ever hold flowers Anton had bought for her?

Anton isn’t the only one haunted by the ghost of his ex-wife. I get now why he scorns the idea of remarrying, and I can’t even blame him for it. After tying himself to a nightmare like Marina, getting married again probably seems like an unnecessary risk at best—and a fucking curse at worst.

I step into another room. White carpet, a cream loveseat near the window, baby grand piano in gleaming white set in the center. More questions bubble up in my head: did she play this? Did he? It would seem strange for a man as violent as Anton to do something as gentle as playing music—but on the other hand, it would also seem right on brand.

But if that’s the case, he hasn’t played since I’ve known him.

Then it strikes me that I haven’t cooked in a while. Is that what life will be like for me if I choose to stay? I’ll slowly end up giving up all the things that make me who I am. I’ll slowly morph into some muted, chained version of what Anton’s world demands.

Or maybe I’ll become what Marina became: cold and reserved, ambitious and power-hungry, jaded and lonely.

Neither one sounds particularly appealing.

I walk over to the piano and sit down on the cushioned bench. I gently touch one of the keys. Even though I can’t play a lick, the sound moves me. It’s pure. Just a single note ringing out in an empty room.

Then the door behind me opens.

I startle, my fingers jumping over the keys, creating a jarring clang that makes me wince.

The maid at the door winces. “I’m sorry, ma’am. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“Oh, it’s okay,” I say once my heartbeat has calmed back down. “It’s easy to do these days. I was just in my own little world.” I notice the broom in her hand. “Were you about to come in and clean?”

“Yes, but I can come back later.”

“No, no,” I say quickly. “Please come in. Don’t let me stop you.”

The truth is I’ve had enough of solitude. My fears only grow louder and more consuming when I have no one else to talk to. Trapped in your own head is a dangerous place to be.

I keep reaching for my phone to call Chris—and then I remember he is the prisoner of a mad woman, and the cycle of loneliness begins again.

“Are you sure, ma’am?” the maid asks. She’s tan and petite. Her eyes are a striking hazel brown and her smile is soft, if somewhat self-conscious.

Most of the household staff keep to the shadows. I’m not sure if they’re told to stay out of sight or not, but I don’t want the woman to leave again.

“I’m sure. I wouldn’t mind the company, to be honest. What’s your name?”

“Lida,” she says.

“That’s a nice name.”

“It was my grandmother’s.”

“Hey! I was named for my grandmother, too,” I say. “Her name was Jessalyn.”

“That’s lovely, ma’am,” she says quietly.

She looks distinctly uncomfortable. Instead of saying so, she just gives me an awkward smile and starts moving through the room, dusting with a feathered brush.

“Can I ask you something, Lida?”

“Of course, ma’am.” She seems unsure of whether she should look at me when she speaks or not.

“How long have you worked here?”

“Almost six years.”

“That’s a long time.”

“It was my first job. I never expected to be here so long. But it pays well and I actually enjoy it.” She flushes with color. “I mean… not that I didn’t expect to.”

I give her a reassuring smile. “It’s good that you’re happy here. I was just wondering… you must have known Don Anton’s ex-wife?”

Lida tenses immediately. “Yes, I knew her.”

“What was she like?”

Lida chews nervously on her lip as she busies herself picking things up and dusting around them. Almost like she wishes she could sweep this question under the rug, too.