Chapter 22

"Ihate parties," Ania says, sitting at the vanity unit and dabbing her face with a foundation brush.

I sit in the opposite unit. We're in what seems like some aristocratic woman's preparation area, with several sinks, vanity units, and all kinds of makeup. "It should be okay," I murmur, thinking of what Dimitri said. Be ready, but he still won't tell me what for.

Mila sits on a short, cushioned couch to the side, staring at the floor bitterly. She picks her fingernails with one hand, and then the other hand attacks the first, then back again. She's already wearing her outfit, a plain dress, nothing like mine or Ania's. Ania wears what is almost like a prom dress, with a built-in corset and bright, vibrant fabrics. It makes her look like a princess.

"Mila, why don't you wear something beautiful?" Ania says. "You're beautiful, so you might as well."

I gently apply some light makeup. I've never been much good at it, but I don't want to be the one left out. I'm unsure if that's a good reason to wear makeup. Dimitri told me he doesn't care if I do. You're naturally perfect, he said, right before I came in here to get ready.

Yesterday, he was out all day, so I painted and waited for him, and I just kept waiting. He was in the city. He crept in late at night and then collapsed next to me. I stayed awake for too long, listening to his breath and feeling his warm body press against my cheek through his shirt.

Mila takes a long time to respond. Her voice is sharp when she does, jolting me from my thoughts. "I don't want to look pretty tonight."

"Mila," I whisper, not wanting to upset her further. "I can ask Dimitri to?—"

"You think this is about Dimitri?"

"Well, maybe you can ask Mikhail?—"

Mila suddenly jumps to her feet, glaring at me. "Just leave it, okay?"

"Where are you going?" Ania asks when she walks toward the door.

"Waiting outside. Is that okay with you?"

Ania huffs once she's slammed the door. "Jeez, sorry."

"She's probably worried about seeing her dad," I say. "Let's cut her some slack."

Ania shivers. "Yeah, I get that. Dads are confusing."

Whenever Dimitri talks about their late father, he never sounds confused. He sounds hard and confident about it. He sounds like a man who, if his father were suddenly to come back to life, he'd happily kill him again.

"I don't think Mila's confused," I say. "I think she hates him, plain and simple."

"What about her mom?" Ania asks.

"What about her?"

"Where is she? What is she doing?"

"I…" After a pause, I admit, "I don't know. I know she has a brother."

"Maybe she wanted nothing to do with her, like my mom," Ania says quietly.

"You never knew her?" I ask.

Ania keeps dabbing makeup. I can see her in the third mirror in the vanity unit, a reflection in a reflection. "Dad admits… admitted she was a sex worker. He said he couldn't marry her but wanted her to help raise me. She wasn't interested."

"Maybe she had her own problems," I say.

"Maybe."

After a while, we're both ready.

"You look amazing," Ania says, rushing over and adjusting my dress.

I look at myself in the mirror. Suddenly, knowing I'm going out in public like this, the dress feels far more revealing. It's mostly the cleavage. It's not crazy. I noticed that after the adjustments, it covers up a little more. It's still more than I'm used to.

"Are you okay?" Ania asks.

"It seems silly, but…" It is silly compared to what Mila is going through, and considering that tonight, I have to be ready for something, even if I have no idea what it is. "Do I look fat?"

"What?" Ania snaps, her cheeks turning so red I'm sure I can see it through her pale, otherworldly makeup. "What the fuck did you just say?"

"Whoa, Ania, I just?—"

"No, no. Why? Why say that? Look at you!" She grabs my shoulders and turns me to face the tall mirror, not the vanity unit. "Your hair is thick and shiny in a beautiful way. Your figure is classic, like how people used to think of beauty. You're full-bodied. Don't put yourself down, please."

"Okay, I'm sorry," I say, touching her hand. She sounds like she might cry.

"I'm sorry," she counters, shaking her head. "Body-image stuff is so ugh."

"Okay, then, Miss Positive. Show me how it's done."

I mean this to make the tone light and fun again. Yet when Ania looks at herself, looking so pretty, like a dainty, beautiful fairy, her lips turn downward, and she sighs. Then she smirks at me. "Do as I say, not as I do, okay?"

"No, that's not okay," I say, then take her shoulders and make her stare at the mirror. "Go on. Compliment yourself."

She swallows. "Lia…"

"No, I mean it."

She purses her lips, then says, "That girl looks like she's one hell of a ballerina."

I laugh. "Okay, I'll take it."

"Shall we go?"

Together, we leave the room and walk down the hallway. Walking past the gold-framed paintings and the centuries-old-looking décor still feels weird. Dimitri and Mikhail are waiting for us in the main sitting room. Dimitri is standing at the fireplace, turning when he hears us. He looks dashing in his dark blue suit, his piercing eyes fixating on me, his strong jawline going tight as he studies me.

"Where's Mila?" Mikhail asks, already confirming the obvious, but Dimitri doesn't react. He just keeps staring at me.

"She said she was going to wait," Ania mutters. "She never said where…"

Mikhail looks like he's about to leave, but then he pauses as if remembering that he's just supposed to be her… her what? Partner-in-hacking? Friend?

"Want me to check on her, Dimitri?" he says, making his voice casual.

"Sure," Dimitri mutters, then he smiles tightly at Ania. "Sorry to abandon you, sis, but do you mind if I talk to Lia alone for a second?"

"Sure," Ania says, shrugging. "But I ain't leaving."

He chuckles. "I wouldn't dare ask you to."

Dimitri gently takes my arm and leads me into the hallway. As soon as we're out of sight, he kisses me hard, making me gasp and hunger for more. I wrap my arms around him, squeezing through his expensive jacket and feeling the solid power beneath.

"That wasn't why I brought you out here," he says huskily.

"No?"

"It's time you knew the full extent of the plan."

I take a breath, nodding. "I'm ready."

Before he can tell me, his cell phone rings. "Sorry." He takes it out and answers. "Right."

Hanging up, he says, "Security is delayed slightly. Apparently, a flat tire needs changing."

"What about the plan?" I ask.

He sighs darkly. "Okay, Lia, but you won't like it."