Chapter 4

Mishka

Istared down at my scuffed brown leather shoes, my bag resting beside my feet. These shoes had taken me from early morning chores in the shop, to school, to my music lessons, and home again for many, many years. The bag had rarely been used. It was dark green nylon with tan straps and piping. Just old enough to be considered slightly cool, with strong dad vibes. It gave me a small bit of comfort that it had actually belonged to my mama, though she had rarely travelled either.

Papa appeared beside me with my violin case. He had shown me a huge sum of paper folding money that magically appeared the night before. Supposedly it had come from a jar in the back of the pantry. Something he had stashed away long ago.

I did not believe that for a second.

One of the Aslanov brothers had clearly given him the cash. But why? For the shop? The building had some value, but I doubted the business itself was worth anything, even with the magazines and newspapers we had begun to sell in recent years. Free wi-fi with your espresso! Papa had attempted to join modern times, but it was not easy for him, or in this country, unless you were mega rich.

Speaking of mega rich… a long black stretch limo appeared. And not just any limo. I stared at the shiny silver figure of a jumping cat on the hood. Did Jaguar even make limousines? It was more beautiful than any car I had ever seen. It looked las if it had rolled right out of a Hollywood movie.

Off the screen and onto the ordinary street I had spent my entire life on.

Why on earth would they send a limo for a maid? I wasn't even truly a maid. I was an indentured servant. A slave. I would not be paid. I was working off a debt, not the other way around.

Not that I would dare to complain. The Aslanov brothers were supposed to be devils. But in this case, they had appeared like angels from God.

They had stepped in, and instead of killing my father, as they were known to do for the slightest debt or infraction, they had given us something even more precious than life. They had given us time.

They had given us hope.

It was too much for my brain to fathom after only a small shot of espresso. I was too nervous to drink more than that, even though I had barely slept the night before. I did not need to start shaking on top of my nerves and worry for my father. I was doing my best not to worry about myself. But I was frightened. I was about to enter the stronghold of the most notorious crime family in Russia, if not the world.

To be honest, my knees were rattling just a bit already.

It was almost six o'clock and the sky was barely turning pink. I turned to look at my father. He would not make eye contact. He looked ashamed. But there was no other choice.

We both knew we might not see each other again. But if I didn't go – if he didn't go – he would never even have a chance.

Finally, he looked at me as the limo pulled to a stop.

"Be good, child."

"I will, papa. I… I love you so very much," I said, throwing my arms around him. He hugged me back fiercely. I could hear him sniffle before he stepped back.

"Your mother would be very proud of you," he said, his eyes shining with unshed tears. "I am, too."

"Thank you, papa. Promise me you will try to get well."

"I promise. Now go on," he gestured. "The man is holding the door for you!"

I nodded, wiping the back of my hand across my eyes. The driver was waiting, though I could detect nothing from him. Not impatience. Not disdain.

"Stay in touch. Every step of the way."

"I promise. But you keep your mind on your work and your music!"

"I will," I said, and slid into the limo. I stared at him out the window as we pulled away, shocked by how small he looked. Shocked by how much I missed him already.

The city of Moscow sped by outside the window. Eventually we left the dirty grime of the city and moved to more manicured landscapes. I saw places I had never ventured to, especially when we neared the outskirts of town, where the exceptionally wealthy had their estates.

In Russia, the wealthy were like royalty. And my new master was the wealthiest of them all. And the most terrifying.

It wasn't long until we were in an area that was as different from the inner city as night and day, even though the journey had taken less than an hour. The driver turned down a gorgeous road with high fences, hedges, and security on either side. I could catch glimpses of fabulous mansions through the wrought iron and greenery. My predicament was forgotten for a moment when we turned onto a private road and faced the grandest gate I had ever seen.

It looked like something from out of a fairytale. Menacing, and yet unspeakably beautiful. The gate and the fencing were clearly impenetrable from the outside.

And inescapable from the inside.

I heard a loud buzz and the gate swung open after a moment. We drove through and I glanced back, watching the heavy metal gate close behind us. There was something very final in the loud click it made when it locked.

There was no turning back, now. Not that there ever had been. I was in a new world, and I had no choice but to adapt to it.

I turned to face forward. The gardens were majestic and manicured, worthy of royalty. The Aslanov's were royalty, wealthy as the Czars. But more obvious in their underworld dealings. Then I looked up and gasped as the house came into view.

It was a castle carved of beautiful stones, that seemed golden in the early morning light. The structure sprawled in every direction, with dormer windows, arches and towers completing the picture.

Calling it a house was like comparing a mouse to a blue whale. It was beyond anything I had ever seen before. It looked like something from a children's book, but without the crumbling turrets or cursed thorns.

I swallowed deeply, suddenly feeling the weight of my decision.

I was to work… here. For the foreseeable future. Perhaps for the rest of my life, I realized. There had been no end date in our agreement. We had been desperate and agreed without hesitation. We had made a deal with the devil himself. I felt like Persephone, realizing that she would spend eternity serving Hades, but as his slave, not his wife. I wondered what that work would entail, or how I would find my way in such a massive building.

I wondered again why I had been picked up in such a fancy car. Perhaps the limo was all that was available. I could have been ordered to appear without it, taking a cab or getting a ride. But I doubted they wanted a random cab driver appearing on their property. That must be it. The driver was sent to keep access limited to the two of us.

The driver walked around the car as I stared up at the house. He opened the door to the limo, startling me from my thoughts. I could feel eyes on me as I stepped out of it.

I looked up at the house, holding my bag against me. I could have sworn I saw a shadow move on the second floor. Was someone watching me? Or was it a trick of the light?

"That way," the driver said as I stepped towards the massive front door. "Servants' come and go through the back, miss."

"Of course," I answered. What had I been expecting? A personal welcome? Anton himself?

I thanked the limo driver for driving me and then followed the direction he had pointed. I could hear my breath as well as see it in the cool morning air. I was beyond nervous, I realized. More frightened than I had ever been.

Certainly, more nervous than I was before a recital.

I wasn't just nervous. I was afraid. It was not unlike the feeling I'd had as a child when I woke up from a nightmare. But this was not a nightmare. Papa would not come running and make it all better with a hug and a kiss. This was real.

There was no waking up from this reality.

A sweeping stone path led me around the house. The gardens were lush and verdant, even at this time of year. The house seemed to go on forever. There was a central portion of the home, that looked very old, though flawlessly maintained. There were three extensions, one on each side and one in the back, that seamlessly blended into the original. The stone was the same color. The roof the same material. But I could tell with closer inspection that these sections of the house were newer.

It was far too tempting to gawk and dawdle, but I was here for a reason. I did not know if I was being watched. I was not a child. I was here to work. I shook myself mentally and forged ahead.

I straighten my posture and walked briskly as I turned yet another corner. I knew I was in the right place immediately. I saw people coming and going from a broad courtyard between the left wing of the house and another wing, extending towards the back.

I was wrong about the house looking like a castle. From the back, it looked like a museum. Or a university. Formal, extravagant, and far too big for mere mortals to occupy.

At least there were humans here. Seeing servants at work was reassuring. A distraction from my tumultuous thoughts. It was hustle and bustle back here, unlike the quiet stateliness of the rest of the estate.

This was the heart of the house, I could tell. It pumped blood, or rather, food, cleaning supplies, and the people to wield it, into the rest of the giant beast. House was the wrong word, again. This place was a small nation.

I stood there, feeling out of place, until a tall man in a well-cut black suit approached me.

"Hello. You must be Mishka. Please, come inside."

I blinked, surprised to be recognized. Though I was probably the only unknown person, I realized, remembering the security. Of course he had been waiting for me.

"Yes. Thank you."

"I am Linski. I run Anton's household."

I nodded, resisting the urge to curtsy or bow. The man was nearly as intimidating as his master. Linski gestured that I should follow him and proceed to show me around a massive lower-level warren of hallways and utility spaces. It was massive. Utilitarian, but pleasing to the eye.

The kitchen alone was big enough for a large restaurant, but much more elegant, with hardwood cabinets, marble counters, and the latest in technology. There were at least two stoves, I realized as I passed through. Everywhere I looked there were men and women in uniforms, heading somewhere, or doing something. It was a hive of industriousness, to say the least.

Linski led me up the stairs to beautiful wide hallway. At the end there was a set of heavy metal double doors with a security pad. He entered a code, careful to keep me from seeing it. I averted my eyes out of courtesy.

"You will be sticking to this wing of the estate, so you don't need the code."

"Wing?"

"Yes, each of the brothers has their own household, though some services are shared in the center of the house, such as the kitchens for formal events and guests, security, the main library, guest quarters, and ballroom. It is unlikely you will need to come this way, but I will show you the main floor."

He gave me a brief tour of the older portion of the estate before heading back to Anton's wing. He entered the code again, and the door swung open on a silent motor. He gestured to me. I stepped through, back in the beautiful hallway, with an endless deep pile carpet, artwork, side tables with lamps, and elegant sconces.

There were no windows, I realized. No daylight. It could have been midnight, not the beginning of the day.

The door shut behind us and I jumped. Like the gate, there was a finality to the sound of it. I was to live, work, and eat in this part of the house, it seemed.

I wondered if there was any way out.

Don't be silly, Mischka. It's a mansion, not a prison. I am sure there are entrances and exits everywhere.

But somehow, I wasn't so sure. Something about this place felt like a trap. A trap I had no choice but to step into.

A mouse willingly taking the cheese, knowing that their freedom was the price she would pay.

"It is best to stick to these areas, miss. Do not go wandering," he said with a stern look, pointing to a laminated map that he handed to me as we strode through the maze that was ‘Anton's wing'.

"You are an above stairs maid. That means serving meals, bringing drinks, and snacks, fetching newspapers and slippers. Generally being available to serve at a moment's notice. Nothing too strenuous, I'm told. I hear you have a talent that must be protected," he added, giving my fingers an odd look.

I was given yet another tour of the above stairs portion of the wing, with instructions that took several hours. The journey itself had taken longer than I expected. After I was fitted for my uniform and fed, I was finally shown to a beautiful room.

It was bigger than the entire apartment I shared with papa above the candy shop. It was new, but built to look old, with a stone fireplace, ornate mantel, massive four poster bed, and two chairs facing a window seat in a massive dormer. I imagined sitting there would feel like you were outside, floating on air. I could not wait to try it, though I was sure servant's were not supposed to sit down.

There was an open door that led to what looked like an extravagant bathroom.

"Here is your room."

I could not hide my surprise.

"This is a servants room?"

"Most of the servants do not live in the house, miss. This is a guest room. Your situation is… unusual," he added without any hint of judgement, though I could sense it lurking below the surface. I was to be treated differently, it appeared. Whether that was a good thing or a bad thing, I had no idea.

There was something off about his words and his reasoning, but his tone left no room to question him further. I nodded. What else could I say? That I wanted a less beautiful room?

"Wait here until your uniform is delivered. Lunch will be brought up to you."

Once again, I could not hide my surprise.

"This is an exception, only until you have the proper attire," he added, and I nodded. It made sense that they did not want a girl wandering around in jeans and an old sweater. "Dinner is at eight. You will be serving. Come down at six thirty for your own meal. Do not be late. Do not leave this room in anything but your uniform. Regular duties will begin tomorrow."

"Thank you," I said, giving him a curtsy this time. I could not help it. He was my boss. But more than that, I felt like a peasant who had somehow snuck into a the lord's castle. I was not meant to be here. I was not… like them.

He gave me another curious look, then nodded, closing the door behind him. I turned in a circle, staring in awe. I walked slowly to the window seat. I had to wait for my uniform, a fitted black dress with matching apron. I had been surprised during the fitting.

It was on the short side, but not quite short enough to look like a Halloween costume. It was close, though. Just barely on the right side of good taste. I could not recall seeing anyone else dressed in a similar uniform, but perhaps it was normal, if sexist, for the estate.

I decided not to think of it, knowing that the uniform was one more thing I had no choice about. Instead, I reached for my phone to check on papa. I decided to take some photos and take him on a FaceTime tour of my new room, starting with the spectacular view from the cozy window seat.