14. Elira

14

ELIRA

I wonder, had I not known exactly what was going on, if I would have been able to feel the tension in the house with the same intensity as I do after the door slams shut.

It wasn't particularly loud before, but a dreadful silence casts over the space as I picture the panic Maksim's sister must feel believing that her brother just arrived home.

I walk to the kitchen at a leisurely pace and open the fridge door, pulling out items only to put them back in as if I'd just arrived from a store.

Panicked footsteps shuffle down the hall just before the back door slides open, and I think for sure the sister is gone when I hear the faint click . But when I turn toward the living room, I see her scared, timid form appear.

Her face sags when she sees me, but then it goes taut with worry. She spins to face the front door, her hands pointed out like she's bracing for something. She looks like she's about to run.

"Maksim isn't here," I say to calm her nerves. At the same time, a vehicle roars, and I mean roars , to life outside, pulling my gaze that way. Tires screech, signaling the successful escape of her boyfriend.

When the sister turns to me, she looks more confused than afraid. There's a bite in her voice when she speaks. The timid little girl is long gone, and I have become the enemy. "Who the hell are you?"

Woah. Potty mouth.

I smile and try not to let her brazenness remind me of Asher. "My name is Elira. Who the hell are you?" I ask the question in a calm voice, as if I'm simply not familiar with the foul language.

Her jaw drops like she wasn't expecting me to say that. After what she just went through, and after what I know she'll go through again and again by having sleazy boyfriends like that, I wish I could hug her.

But that, unfortunately, is not how you reach a teenage girl like this one, nor Asher. Not yet. You must earn her respect before she'll gift you her vulnerability.

She crosses her arms over her chest and glares so intensely, I question if she's trying to melt my mind or something. "I live here."

"Ah." I nod. "Maksim's sister. I did guess that."

"Anya," she corrects, shifting her weight.

She's uncomfortable with me being here. Does he not usually have girls over?

"So I guess you're the fuck of the week?" she asks.

Oh . Maybe he does have girls over.

I stare at her, keeping my face neutral. She speaks with such a snarky tone, but there's a pain beneath her words that peeks over that hard exterior she's trying so hard to put off. I bet she fools most people so well.

If he does have women over, I don't think she likes it.

"No," I say, unsure what I should say. "We're friends."

She quirks a brow and juts out her hip as she adjusts her crossed arms. "A friend who shows up unannounced when he isn't here to rifle through our fridge?"

I glance at the open refrigerator and put the rest of the groceries away before closing it.

"I brought groceries, actually. I just came back from the store."

"Where the fuck are your shoes?"

‘ Fuck' now too?

I turn to her and glimpse my bare feet. "It's rude to wear shoes into others' homes. It tracks in dirt."

She laughs and leans against the bar. "Where did you get that idea? Your accent is thicker than Maksim's , so obviously you aren't from here."

"I'm from Albania," I say, proud.

She stares blankly. I bet she couldn't point to it on a map.

"Why are you here?"

I shrug. "My father is American, so I suppose you could say half of me is too."

A beautiful curtain of blonde waves shimmers as her head tilts, and she peers at me hatefully through blue eyes. "Cool, but why are you here , in my home, bringing shit to my fridge, dragging your dirty feet through my house? Women don't hang out here during the day, so I know my brother's dick can't be that good. What, are you fishing for a green card or something?"

Now my neutral expression snaps. My eyes go wide, and I feel the blood rush to my ears. A powerful surge flows through my hand, tempting me to slap her.

Why are these people so. Fucking. Arrogant ?

My teeth grit, and I inhale, ready to growl, but I've had enough fights with Asher to know it's a mistake. She's pushing me. She's trying to get a reaction. She wants this.

I don't have to fight hard to tame my anger because the fire in her eyes dwindles without me speaking a word. Her eyes aren't on my face anymore. They've lowered, to the left of me.

I look down, tensing when I realize what it is she's looking at, but it's too late to rip my hand out of sight. The shiny diamond I stupidly have worn on my left hand since confronting Daniel, the one I was sure I'd earned, seems to gleam brighter than ever in the light of the kitchen.

"That's it, isn't it?" she asks, her voice low and weak. She clears her throat, but she isn't hiding her pain well anymore. When she looks me in the eyes again, she forces herself to stand straighter. "So what, my brother bagged a mail-order bride? Is he that fucking pathetic?" She laughs a sickly, cruel laugh.

No .

I open my mouth, ready to correct her, ready to set the record straight, but something stops me. This is Maksim's sister. If I tell her the truth, he will no doubt kill me. My only option is to lie.

I could tell her I'm someone else's wife, but I can see in her eyes she's already made up her mind. It wouldn't make sense. Whose wife would I be? Why would I be here? How would I answer these questions?

Anya shakes her head in disgust, but she waits for my confirmation. She cares. I see so much pain in her eyes that my heart grants her sympathy I wouldn't know was possible for Maksim's kin.

And even though I hate him. Even though I think he's slimy, he's scum, he's as pathetic as this girl pretends to believe he is … I don't want her to know the truth about him.

"Your brother loves you," I say, my voice soft and soothing.

She scoffs, looking away so I won't see her eyes water.

"He does, Anya. You are the most important person in his life, and he would never do anything to intentionally hurt you."

"Do you even know my brother?" she spits, whipping her hair off her shoulders and slapping the bar top. "I mean, besides the fact that he's an American who can grant you citizenship? Do you know him? What kind of man do you think needs to ship a woman overseas because all the other women in this country wouldn't want them? Do you think he's a catch ?"

She laughs and drags her hands down her makeup-caked face. "Has he told you what he does for a living? Because as soon as he does, you'll run. I promise you, you'll be on the first flight back to Armenia."

"Albania," I correct, walking toward her. "And I wish that were possible."

Her lips purse while she waits for me to clarify.

I lean toward her on the opposite side of the bar. I can feel my face perfectly relaxed even as my mind rejects what I'm about to say. I fucking hate you, Maksim .

"Yes, I know what your brother does for a living. His boss introduced us."

Anya pulls back slightly, like the mention of Nikita scares her as much as it does me. I don't imagine she knows much about the man, but enough to know she should be wary of him.

I sigh. "Can I be honest with you? You seem, uh…" I pause as if I'm searching for the word I know hits hardest for her. "Mature. I think you can handle the truth."

She seems to stand taller, putting on a brave face as she nods.

"Back home, I wasn't um…" I look down for a moment in false shame. Again, fuck you, Maksim. "I wasn't free, Anya. There were very bad men there who wanted me to do things for them, to make them money. Do you understand?"

Her shoulders slump, and her face twists with pity as she nods.

"I met an American man there, also not a good man, but he agreed to marry me so I could at least be free of the monsters in Albania. When I got here, our engagement fell through, and I was going to have to go back."

I look off, willing tears to gather in my eyes as I paint my enemy a hero to this na?ve girl. The man who wanted to kill me after telling me salvation was on the other side of a hill.

Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you, Maksim .

"Then I met Maksim," I say, a longing quality to my voice that makes me want to vomit. When I look back at Anya, I take her hands. "Please, you must understand, I begged him to agree to marry me. He was terrified of what you would think, but I told him about the horrible life I lived before, and he felt sorry for me. He saved me, Anya. Your brother is a good man… The best I've ever known."

Puke. Vomit. Hurl.

"Wow." She looks down, then up at me, her cheeks pinkening. "I… I'm so sorry. I had no idea. All that shit I said…" Her eyes well with tears. I let go of her hand to cup her porcelain cheek.

"You couldn't have known," I say with a sad smile.

"Still, that was…" She shakes her head and pulls her hands from me to pat her chest, free from a bra. "Hold on a sec, let me get my phone. I want to put your number in, and I'll give you mine. I can't really stand to be around my brother lately, to be honest, but if there's anything you need… I mean, this is a new country, right? Maksim is always working, so if you need anyone to show you the good malls or something, I'm your girl. Unless, you know, you have other friends already or?—"

"I have no other friends." I smile and pray she doesn't start another awkward ramble. I really guilted her, didn't I? She'd feel even worse if she knew the truth.

This is good, though. She's a child, but someone to show me this city is exactly what I've been needing. And she knows the passcode to the alarm system.

Maksim will kill me for this, but he has no idea how much he owes me.

"And that would be great . I've been almost nowhere, so I'd love to get out."

She nods with a smile, happy to have something to relieve her guilt. Her eyes pop when I don't say anything further. "Oh, you mean now ?"

I shrug. "Unless you have school to get to?"

With a wicked grin, she shakes her head and steps toward the hallway. "Just let me grab my phone and clean up. I took a nap on Maksim's bed and am a drooler, so I have to throw the comforter in the wash. You don't happen to know where the key to my room is, do you?"

"Sorry, hon, don't have a clue. Do you want some help?"

"No!" She nervously laughs. "No, thank you. I'll just be a minute."

Without another word, I walk to the hallway dresser I've been using to sort junk and pull out a pair of flip flops I found shoved beneath the couch days ago. They're a size too small and obviously Anya's, so I hope she doesn't notice, but even if she does, I suppose it doesn't make much of a difference. Even in my lies, I'm a pitiful whore.

I wait for her by the door, my fingers tingling with excitement. I'm sure there will be hell to pay for this, but for now, I'm going to enjoy my first real day in this American city.