He sits back and doesn’t seem remotely surprised. Which I guess makes sense. Who would think I’d go along with this? He’s practically hijacking me into marrying him.
“That’s one response,” he says, nodding along thoughtfully. “But what if you said something more like,how long am I going to last without your helpinstead?”
A chill runs down my spine. My feet feel cold and I can taste my teeth. It’s a weird sensation. “Are you… threatening me?”
“I’m making you think through your current situation. I’m offering you my help. Clearly, based on the state of your apartment, you need it.”
“And you couldn’t just… help me? Without getting anything in return?”
He looks momentarily confused. “People don’t do that,” he says. His expression is hard. Gone is the charming stranger. He’s still so handsome it’s hard to look at him, but now there’s an edge creeping out from underneath the striking exterior.
“What do you mean, people don’t help each other? They do it all the time.”
“No. You’re wrong.” He leans forward. “Nobody does anything for free. Charity directors want recognition. Priests want power. Every time you help a friend, you expect their thanks in return. Now theyowe you. No, that isn’t how people work.”
I’m too stunned to think of an answer. That’s such an ugly, terrible way to see the world. “Life isn’t… it’s not just… it can’t be just a series of transactions.”
“It’s always been that way, Nika. You just haven’t been paying attention.”
God, maybe he’s right. I hunch into myself, rubbing my forehead. Maybe all this time, everything I’ve done, there have always been hidden motives… secrets I didn’t think about…
But no, this is madness.
Except something occurs to me.
If Gabe really believes life is just a string of deals, that means he wants something from me. And I doubt it’s just the honor of being my husband.
There’s something else at play.
I look back up. He seems curious as he cocks his head to the side. I search his face, trying to figure out what his angle is, but he’s holding all the cards and I’m running for my life. I’m desperate and he’s my only safety.
But that doesn’t mean I’m powerless.
“If I help you, then you’re going to help me.”
“That’s exactly what I’m offering.”
“No, not just my safety.”
He seems surprised and then delighted. “Are wenegotiating? Did you just come around to my view?”
“I want my mother.”
That quiets him down. He leans back, lifts his coffee to his lips, and considers. He hesitates, drinks, and sets the cup down. “I don’t know who she is. I don’t think Yelena does either.”
“Then you’re going to help me find her.”
“Nika, I don’t think you understand the situation here?—“
I jam my pointer finger on top of the table. “You need me. I don’t really know why, but it has something to do with who I am. Otherwise, why else would you want to marry a total stranger?”
“Maybe I just find you attractive.”
I clear my throat and ignore the sudden ping of desire that rushes into my core. “No, you want something. Well, I want something too. If I’m getting wrapped up in whatever your game is, you’re going to find my mother for me.”
This has been my dream ever since I was a little girl. Aunt Yelena never spoke about my mother, and the few times I asked the men that showed up to check on me, they always ignored the question. It became obvious from a young age that my mother was a subject we simply did not speak about.
But nobody ever said she was dead. Nobody said she was missing, or that she abandoned me on purpose, or anything at all, really. Which let me fill in the gaps with wild, mostly pathetic fantasies, usually about my mother showing up and whisking me away to a better life where I’m loved and cared about instead of kept in a tight, cozy little cage.