35. Anna

35

ANNA

T he low, murmured conversation between one of the players and a coach drifts across the icy night air as I head out of the tennis stadium into the darkness. I’m training hard and spending as little time as possible within reach of Konstantin or anyone else he might want to put me in front of.

Fabian told me not to come here at all. But after looking at Adam’s tousled toffee hair when I woke in his bed at dawn this morning, I knew I couldn’t throw what he and I have away, pretend to be his friend when I want so much more. I have to keep him out of it—this is my problem to solve, not his or Fabian’s. I have to fight like I’ve fought for everything else. My father’s words drummed into my head: “Never back down from a fight, Anna!” Konstantin will use every opportunity to remind me that I haven’t escaped his clutches, and until I can pry my parents out of Russia, maybe I’ll have to put up with his manipulations.

Midmorning, a text message appeared on my phone:

The chase always makes the prize so much sweeter, don’t you think, my beautiful Anna?

So, I’ve stayed on the indoor courts as long as possible this evening, coaching late into the night, to the delight of all the coaches and the tennis hopefuls. But I’d forgotten the creeping sensation of being watched, the prickle on the back of my neck. Everyone here is on his payroll. What are they doing to these young people? I shouldn’t have come back, but ultimately, I’m not sure I had much of a choice.

We’re eight hours ahead here, and Adam’s messages and calls started at about 2 p.m. today, but I can’t bring myself to talk to him. Being back here is making my skin crawl, and I can’t face having a normal conversation with a normal person, or even explain to him why I came. I just want it over and done with and to get back home. My New York home. My only real home.

Why did I so willingly accept a relationship with Pietr? It’s hard to remember that frightened young girl. Although that word, accept : It was never a choice. Chills shiver through me. I was so naive, flattered by what I thought was the attention of a rich older man. Away from home, I had no one to pull me aside and give me advice. I was even grateful for the buffer he provided from Konstantin. Grateful! What a nightmare it was. How controlling Pietr was. He treated me like an immature little girl, and I was, I really was, but Lord knows I lost that naivete fast.

My eyes scan over the teenagers heading toward the buses to take them back to the hotel. The coach wraps an arm around a boy as he talks to him, and I look away. Could I ever do anything about all this? God knows how much danger we’d all be in if I did.

I messaged Pietr before I left, telling him I was coming here and asking whether he would be in St. Petersburg. I don’t know why I did that. Because he’d expect it? There’s still some part of me that’s concerned about his reaction. He’s less of a threat than Konstantin because I have ammunition on him, but he’s still terrible in his own way.

And Mila. Konstantin’s focus on her has never waned, though she’s never wanted to talk about it. I think she’s always resented that I got Pietr, despite the fact he is his own kind of evil.

I glance at my watch: 10 p.m. What would I be doing if I was home on a Friday evening? Thank God the tournament is tomorrow, and my flight is booked out of here tomorrow night. But as I step onto the bus, my phone buzzes with a message:

Tomorrow, we are having breakfast together, my little one. In the hotel restaurant overlooking the water. 8 a.m.

Konstantin. I turn and scan the parking lot. Is he watching? I put my hand over my pocket. I brought another phone with me and got an additional SIM at the airport. It’s something Mila and I started when our phones were confiscated at an early camp and we felt trapped. Mila got us a couple of small handsets, and after a few years I replaced mine with a tiny Android smartphone I can almost hide in the palm of my hand.

Did one of the coaches tell Konstantin we were finished? What a game of cat and mouse. When I scroll back up the messages on my phone, there’s a message Pietr sent earlier saying he’s going to be here this evening. I send a text back:

I’m eating with Konstantin at 8 a.m. tomorrow. Join us?

His answer comes through as I’m settling into my seat:

Already arranged.

Something cold shivers down my spine. I thought there was some bad blood between them, but they’re clearly talking to each other on some level.

What with the time difference and the fact I had next to no sleep on the plane over and then went straight into a day’s coaching, I wake late, blinking up at the hotel ceiling. I take the fastest shower and clothing change in history and head down to find the restaurant, which turns out is all plush banquette seating and white tablecloths. I’ve put on a dark suit to appear businesslike, my hair drawn back into a tight bun. When the hostess walks me over the thick brown carpet to a table tucked away in a corner alcove, Konstantin is sitting with two other men. His henchmen, no question. They’re always around.

He stands up and leans over, kissing my cheek. “Anna,” he murmurs. “I heard the practice went well yesterday.”

“Yes, it did. Your academy is doing well I think.” I smile. “You have an excellent selection of players. I could barely keep up!”

If I can keep this about the tennis and the coaching, it might not be so bad.

He inclines his head. “I doubt that very much.” His cheeks are flushed as he sinks back down into his chair, straightening his cutlery on the table. Has he already been drinking this morning? “I hope your boyfriend is enjoying his night?” he says, as I slide into a seat at the white tablecloth.

I falter a little. It’s midnight in the US. Is he referring to Adam? Why would he say that specifically? “Which boyfriend?”

Konstantin smiles, his lip curling. “You have more than one? The one you have been seen everywhere with, the one in all the newspaper articles. Your dynamic young tech entrepreneur, Anna.”

Adam would laugh if he could hear this description. But Jesus, hearing it from Konstantin’s lips is somehow so much worse. Though I still feel a hot burn of vindication: I was right to be worried. Of course he’s on their radar, and I put him there because I didn’t think it through. This involvement with me has been anything but positive for Adam. Apart from the fact I’ve had some of the best times of my life with him, I have led him into nothing but trouble.

I wave my hand. “It is something we do for mutual benefit. He’s not a boyfriend, although you know how the media likes a story.” I give him a wan smile.

Konstantin purses his lips. “Maybe he is interested in your money so he can support his business. Perhaps these American men will always be after your money, Anna. How would you know?” His puckered lips makes him look like a snake.

My stomach turns over, and I open my mouth to make some retort, but the waiter appears at our table and when I look up, Pietr is right behind him, a tight smile on his face .

“Pietr,” I say, standing up as he steps forward. He slides a hand around the back of my neck, and his touch is like an assault. I turn my head at the last minute as he tries to kiss me on the lips, and his mouth grazes across my cheek. He’s scowling when he draws back.

Pietr strung me along for such a long time, making me think he was acting in my best interests. But his desire for control eventually got the better of him, and he couldn’t hide the rages. I’d been independent for years and didn’t understand the expectations he had. If he wanted to contain and dominate my life, he had to travel with me, which often he couldn’t do. He was furious about it, but tournaments were vital and the feather in the academy’s cap. So, one of his handlers would come along and give me instructions. Pietr hated that compromise and would frequently explode in fury. He’s never accepted our separation, and despite my desire to use him as a buffer against Konstantin here, I can see from his tight expression that anger is seething under every action. Damn, why did I message him?

“It’s good to see you, Anna,” he says.

“Konstantin was kind enough to invite me,” I reply.

Konstantin and Pietr exchange a glance. Pietr has houses all over—here, New York, London. He wanted a wife on his arm and told me so repeatedly.

“An invite! What are you talking about? You don’t need an invitation! This is your home. Your home with me.”

I learned a long time ago to keep quiet when he said something delusional.

“Yes, you will coach here I think, long-term,” Konstantin interjects. “When you retire. In our camps. I am pleased how excited everyone is to have you here.”

Over my dead body.

“Konstantin and I have your best interests at heart, of course,” Pietr says, sitting down in his seat and flapping a napkin over his lap, a dull red mounting at the base of his throat.

I almost want to laugh. They’ve been biding their time. And they is the operative word here, isn’t it? Did Pietr do some deal with Konstantin to get his hands on me when I was younger? I wonder whether all the speculation in the papers has prompted this little show of … I don’t know what … Control? Strength? A reminder that I belong to them? This is what Konstantin called me back for. Perhaps Pietr is furious about Arty or Adam. Are they watching me? Adam? New York is my home. I have my visa, and my lawyer has told me that a green card should be no problem when I’m ready. I am never coming back to Russia. I roll my lips together.

A smile twists over Konstantin’s mouth, and he leans forward and runs a finger down my arm. I will myself not to react. But Pietr’s eyes narrow on Konstantin’s hand.

“My beautiful Anna, I have waited a long time. I am pleased you have been so successful. You will add a lot to the academy in the future, show all these young hopefuls what’s possible, if they work hard and please the people that look after them. Like you.” He picks up his glass and toasts me, sipping the viscous brown liquid and watching unblinking like he’s ready to strike, fingers twitching on the table. “This speculation in the press about your relationships, it is … perhaps … not the right message to be giving.” He tilts his head.

This is about Pietr. When I glance at him, I’m shocked to find his eyes are almost rabid now. I can’t believe he still thinks he owns me somehow. Careful, Anna . Who knows what they might do here?

I shrug. “I cannot control what they print, and it’s all about money, as you know. The more interest there is in my personal life, the more column inches, and the more sponsors pay.”

“Are you lying to your Uncle Konstantin now, Anna?”

I take a sip of my water. “Lying? What do you mean?”

His eyes flick to Pietr, whose nostrils flare. “You need to stop messing around with men, Anna!” Pietr barks, and Konstantin places a restraining hand on his arm.

“Adam Miller will be out of the picture soon enough, Pietr,” he says quietly.

Cold runs like rabbits down my back. Out of the picture? What does that mean ?

I smile at them, as genuinely as I can muster. I want them to think I’m playing their game. “Of course!” I say. “Why would you think otherwise?”

“Well,” Konstantin says, perusing the menu. “Let’s hope there’s no lasting damage.”