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“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 notcrazy. 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…” Itissilly compared to what Mila is going through, and considering that tonight, I have tobe readyfor 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 thefuckdid 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’refull-bodied. Don’t put yourself down, please.”
“Okay, I’m sorry,” I say, touching her hand. She sounds like she might cry.
“I’msorry,” she counters, shaking her head. “Body-image stuff is sough.”
“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’snotokay,” 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?
