Chapter 3
If there was something that made Katya’s life easier while living in the house, it was the garden. The garden was a small patch that had the most beautiful flowers. Her governess told her that her mother came up with the idea of having a little bit of nature after they moved into the mansion.
She had taken one look at the house and deemed it “too cold and not homely.”
Ever since Katya could remember, she would always come to this place whenever she felt troubled or sad to talk to her mother. Not aloud, though. If her father heard her talking aloud to herself, he would most likely send her to a psych ward to be committed.
After all, Luyeva did say that he mentioned in passing the possibility of a type of mental illness running in his bloodline. Her father would not want his daughter to one day run away from home under the influence of the voices in her head or the things she claims to see. Not that she saw anything.
She knew that her father might not understand why she kept the garden as a memorial to her mother. The only time he ever mentioned her mother in her twenty years of being alive was when she found a dress in the attic and decided to wear it for some forum they were having at school. She was fifteen. Her father had not been home when she left.
When she came back home, he was sitting with a guest. Katya had expected him to look at her fondly, maybe smile in nostalgia at the reminder, but all he said was, “that dress belonged to your mother. Go upstairs, change, and I never want to see you wear it again.” The barely concealed anger in his voice had stopped her from replying.
Since then, it was as if there was an unspoken rule in the house, banning all topics centered on her mother. Even Luyeva had not mentioned her since that day, and Katya only visited the garden when dear papa wasn’t around. Today, she needed her mother more than ever.
She sat down on a wooden square post and stared at the flowers. They were blooming- pretty things that did not have to worry about life or being confined to the patch of earth where their roots were. If only she could have the same attitude- just breezing about and moving wherever the wind blew.
Instead, she had to deal with a father who did not care that his daughter would be twenty in a month or the fact that she knew nobody from both parents' sides. Her life had been a closed-off one, limited to school and home. The only times she broke the routine was when her father left on one of his numerous trips and Luyeva was feeling up to a quick drive to the mall.
She looked towards the gates and sighed. Suppose she could just… she frowned. Then she took a glance around. Nobody was walking around. It would be the best time to make her way and get some hours to herself. Of course, she could not use the main gates- security guards and all, but there was another gate that she could go through.
The gate was more of a "had been," rusted and overtaken by weeds. But her sixteen-year-old self had climbed it with few bruises to show. She could try it again.
But she needed some cash. And she could not go inside the house in case someone saw her. For a minute, it felt as if her plan had been foiled. Then she remembered that Luyeva once mentioned keeping money for emergencies. Luyeva’s apartment wasn’t in the house, and if she could sneak in and out, it would be fine. Besides, Luyeva would have been up hours ago in the main building, making sure everything ran smoothly.
In less than ten minutes, she was out with a purse in her hand. She would reimburse the older woman later.
Without thinking twice, she hurried towards the other gate, taking detours and sideways glances to ensure that no one was watching or following her. She would not put it past the suit guy- Michal, to let her get to the gate and deny her access. He would find some way to get rid of her escape route forever.
How old was he again? It was one thing she could not place. He looked like he was in his late twenties, yet he acted like her father. Maybe he was older but blessed with good genes. She would find out later.
She got to the gate and was relieved that it hadn’t been sealed up. Putting both palms on what remained of the gate, she pushed hard. Surprisingly, it gave way, creaking loudly. She spun quickly at the loud noise to see if it attracted anyone’s attention. Nobody. Good, it was time to go.
A few vines and twines out of the way, she walked through the gate and let out a tremendous sigh of relief.
“Miss Mordashov has not come down from her room.” it was an implied question. Michal did not waste time on pleasantries.
Luyeva stopped in her tracks and turned around. “No, she hasn’t. But it is not unlike her. Sometimes, especially on holidays, she likes to sleep in late.”
She studied him for a moment. “Can I help you?”
“Yes. I was hoping we could make an early start on the conversation we had yesterday. I want to get everything squared out as soon as possible,” he answered.
Luyeva nodded. “Alright, then. I will get her. You can wait in the living room.”
Michal nodded and walked to the living room, sitting on the nearest couch. He looked in the direction of the door and narrowed his eyes. Somehow, he felt that she had gone out of the house to avoid talking to him—typical brat.
He laid his head against the headrest and closed his eyes. The picture that had greeted him when he saw her yesterday flashed in his mind. She was wearing an oversized shirt, flimsy, and with every jump that she made when she walked toward the older woman, he could see the hem jump up further.
Her thighs…soft and inviting. It reminded him of the last woman he had held in his arms, his head buried between her legs as she begged him over and over, fingers in his hair. His eyes had briefly wandered to her breasts- complete with perky nipples straining against the thin fabric. It took him three deep breaths to get himself together. The effect she had on him in such a short time angered him- she wasn’t even his type.
He didn’t want to think she had done in on purpose, even scolded himself but-
Then she had taken it a bit further, taunting him with the mention of her little toy. He could think about walking into her room, snatching the stupid thing from her hand, and making her gasp louder than "pleasure" would have even on the loudest setting. It was harmless flirting- he knew her type, but he wanted her voice hoarse from screaming his name as each orgasm washed over her in succession.
“She is not in her room,” Luyeva’s voice made him open his eyes.
He shrugged and cracked his neck. He wasn’t expecting her to be in her room anyways. His best guess was that she had found a way to leave the grounds. Perhaps she found his presence so annoying that she needed a breather. Well, too bad for her. He had orders.
“I’ll check for her around the house,” the older woman offered.
Michal raised a hand. “Save yourself the stress. She went outside the gates. We need to know where she is most likely to visit.”
Luyeva scrunched her brows. “How do you know she went outside? There are guards at the gates, and they have orders not to let her out.”
“Then she must have found another way,” Michal added. He watched the older woman take in the news with wary eyes. She wasn’t shocked that Katya would rebel, but the shock was based on the fact that she left on her own. That meant she wasn’t allowed to be on her own, or she had not gone out on her own, ever.
He groaned. He hated dealing with overgrown brats that tested his control.
“I will look around and ask the guards if they saw her anywhere,” the older woman volunteered.
Michal nodded in agreement. He had other plans. “That would be good. Where is the first place you think she might go to?”
“The mall. She finds shopping therapeutic. But, she has wanted to go to a club since she turned nineteen. To drink,” she replied.
"A club?" Michal asked her. Indeed, there has to be alcohol in the house? From the little he knew, her father was the kind to indulge himself in a bottle of scotch now and then. Why would the daughter want to go far to get what was within her reach? Except-
“Her father has banned her from drinking till she turns twenty-one. He converted the room that served as a storage unit for alcoholic beverages into something else.
The only home bar is in his suite,” Luyeva supplied.
“That makes sense. You look here, and I’ll search the nearest bars and clubs around. Let me know if anything pops up.”
Katya was seated on a chair facing the stage in a dimly lit bar. She was nursing a bottle that was still full while bobbing her head along to the sultry lines of the woman who was singing on the stage. She wasn't drunk; she didn't think a few sips could get a person drunk.
After leaving the house, she walked down the road until she found a cab. Then she told the driver to take her to any club an hour or two away from that place. With a few more notes in his hand and a satisfied smile, he had brought her here.
Although it was not what Katya had expected, she liked the dark atmosphere of the club and the mysterious aura it gave. Her father knew many people, but it was unlikely that he would befriend anybody that frequented or worked in a run-down place like this. It gave her a sense of freedom, no matter how short it would last. The hours until Luyeva knew she had left and Michal began his search, she was free.
“Want another bottle?” a short, stout woman wearing what seemed like an undersized shirt asked her.
"No, I'm good," Katya replied. She nodded at the bottle in her hands.
The woman instinctively brushed back her hair- Katya could not see, but she could tell that it was a lot of colors and glanced at a door where a man stood. Then she looked back at Katya.
“I’m afraid you will have to leave if you are not buying anything,” she said.
Katya thought about it. She could not leave now, not when she had time on her hands. And she had no plans on getting drunk. But she could do something else.
“Can you tell your manager that I would like to pay for more drinks for all of you if it can buy me two hours?”
The woman looked surprised but said nothing. She nodded and walked away. When she came back, there was a forced smile on her face. At least, it seemed that way to Katya.
“He says twenty bottles, and you can have all the time you want,” she informed her.
Katya placed the money on the table and watched as the woman scooped it up and walked away. It was a small price to pay for her freedom. Then she turned her attention to the stage where a man in dreadlocks had replaced the sultry singing woman.