Chapter 13

Anton

The evening was doomed.

I had never been in a position like this before. I was having guests tonight. And my sweet little Mishka was serving.

Mishka was terrible at serving. But she was improving at chess. And from what I observed through my video monitor, her playing was improving as well, if that was at all possible.

She'd already proven she was excellent. Exceptionally talented. A true artist. But recently when I saw her pouring her heart into her music late at night, or very early in the morning, or anytime I didn't require her presence, it stunned me.

It also annoyed me. She still refused to play for me. And she skipped her own meals frequently to sneak away and play, forcing me to find ways to provide her with extra food

I was not meant to know that she was skipping meals, so I had to be covert and creative about getting her to eat.

Truth be told, that was probably my fault. I'd been requiring her presence more and more. We'd settled into a routine. I did not go out, to the chagrin of my friends. Even my brothers were griping about my lack of sociability, not to mention my seeming isolation. I did not want to share meals even with them.

I did not want to share her.

I had to admit, my brothers were valid in their concern that my absence might cause a visibility or perception issue.

Which is why, tonight, I was bringing the party here.

On the outside I was presenting as my usual, relaxed self, but I couldn't help but wonder what my little maid would think of my dinner companions. I'd seen to her getting several pairs of shoes so she could rotate them, even allowing her a pair of black ballet flats, that she was told to wear during the day, if she chose. But in the evenings, for dinner, she was required to wear heels.

Meanwhile, I had made some other adjustments as well.

Her uniform was a miracle. It was very close to being too tight, but not quite, and the hemline had shifted subtly upwards, week after week. I had seen her tugging it downward once or twice when she thought I was not looking. I wish I could say that I felt guilty about it, but I never did.

Not even a little bit.

She was not given stockings, so her glorious, perfect legs were bare to my gaze, and I hoped someday soon, to my touch.

She was a walking wet dream in that uniform. She literally haunted me day and night. Her sweet soulful eyes, her demeanor, her controlled passion, the silkiness of her skin and hair, and the insane curves.

Never mind how elusive she was.

The girl was giving me a run for my money, and then some, and I could not have been happier. Or more frustrated. I loved the challenge of her, even while I prayed for success to come quickly. Alas, that did not seem imminent, though I kept strategizing, considering, and hoping.

Like my sweet little Mishka herself, my emotions were a dizzying contradiction, mesmerizing, conflicting, and engrossing.

I was having the time of my life, and I had never been more miserable. I never wanted it to end. I wanted this torment to continue forever. As long as she gave into me eventually, she could torment me for the rest of my life.

This might be hell, but when I got her in my arms and in my bed, I knew without a doubt that it would be heaven.

I went downstairs early, embarrassingly eager to lay eyes on my little beauty. I checked the feed and did not see her in her chamber or the music room. It was too close to dinner to hope she would be playing, but I planned to rewind and watch all her video later, regardless. I wandered to the open dining room. Other servants were setting the table, more ornately than usual. There was no sign of my little bird.

I wondered, not for the first time, if I could have a tracker put into her uniform. Or her shoes perhaps. Or a piece of jewelry?

I had a bizarre need to know where she was at all times. I was more than a little bit obsessed. I had experienced a much less intense version of this with new interests growing up. I was able to hyper focus to the extent where I forgot to eat or drink. But it had never happened with a person.

Nothing like this.

This wasn't about being the best at a new skill. I wanted to know everything. But it was a soul deep yearning combined with a fire in my belly that was anything but spiritual, not an intellectual, clinical urge to direct and conquer.

I did want to conquer her, though. Not just when playing chess, which she was surprisingly skillful at. She had even beat me a time or two during our nightly games. That may have been due to my very pleasant fantasies that involved undressing her slowly, then laying her down on the rug in front of the fireplace and having my way with her.

I poured myself a glass of wine and contemplated my progress. Mishka still feared me, but not as much. She had gotten good news about her father's condition recently, which I already knew as I was in close contact with the old man's physician, but her eyes had shone when she told me over a game the night before.

The strange sensation in my chest as I watched her face light up had taken me completely by surprise. It was a mixture of awe and tenderness. Her happiness did something unexpected to me. It made me happy.

And knowing the part I had played in bringing that happiness about made me feel good.

I wasn't sure I had ever felt good before.

She was softening to me, slowly but surely. Like an untamed falcon, I was slowly training her to my hand. She would be mine, whether she knew it or not.

"Your guests have arrived," Linski said with a bow.

"Show them in," I said.

"Directly to the dining room?"

"Yes. I will be there in a moment," I said, sipping my wine and staring into the fire. It was getting cooler outside at this time of year, and the house was not draft in the slightest. Not that my home ever felt truly warm, either.

I had never experienced true warmth. Not until the moment Mishka had brought me a glass of mineral water with a slightly wicked, but also genuinely concerned, gleam in her eye.

I would never let anyone tell me to do anything, least of all a woman. Not my father. Not even my brothers, though I would take it under advisement if they both had strong feelings about something. But somehow this one small girl had altered my habits, simply with her gentle, feminine influence. I had not drank vodka in weeks. My brothers were confused by this, but stopped offering after the first few tries. The smell of it was unpleasantly strong to me now. Acidic. Toxic.

Red wine alternated with mineral water had become my drink of choice. Coffee and juice in the mornings. And a healthy diet. I had put on a bit of weight, even with my early morning workouts, but it looked good. I looked alarmingly healthy.

A good sexual release with my little dove and I could be in the best shape of my life. And if I could hold her in my arms every night… go to sleep and wake knowing that she was mine? I would be unstoppable.

I finished my wine and headed to the dining room to greet my guests.