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So, instead, I just won’t tell him. With any luck, I’ll be back home before he even knows I’m gone.
“I’ll be there,” I assure Mr. Hunter.
As soon as I’m off the phone with him, I call Silvia.
“Hey, Mel,” she answers brightly. “How are you settling in?”
“Good, good,” I say, trying to keep the stress from my voice. “Hey, I have a favor to ask. Is there any chance you’re free to watch Gabby for a few hours?”
“Oh, sure. Anytime. What day were you thinking?”
“Um…” My gut twists guiltily at the impromptu nature of my call. “I was kind of hoping you’d watch her, like, now—as soon as I can get to your house anyway.”
“Oh! Yeah, I mean, of course. Is everything alright?”
“Yes. Great. I, uh, may have just gotten a gig.”
“Oh. Neat. That’s wonderful.”
I can tell by Silvia’s tone that she’s surprised—probably that I’m looking for a job so quickly after arriving. But she doesn’t press the matter.
“Well, I’m at home, so come by whenever you’re ready.”
“Thank you so much,” I gush and quickly hang up. “Hey, keiki. You want to go spend some time with Auntie Silvia and her daughter, Isla? You remember her from a few days ago, right?”
“Okay!” Gabby agrees, setting down her crayon.
Beaming down at my daughter, I press a kiss to the top of her head. “I’m going to change my clothes real quick. Then we’ll head out.”
Despite my determination to make this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity work, I know I’m taking a risk. So, I keep my head on a swivel as we take the train from Harlem to the stop nearest the Veles house in their posh Brooklyn Heights neighborhood.
We make it to Silvia’s front door without a hitch, and I knock. One of Pyotr’s rather large and intimidating guards opens the door, his scowl enough to make a grown man tremble.
I can tell the moment recognition lights his eyes, but it would seem that’s not going to grant me entry automatically—only Gleb’s presence can do that.
“Yes?” he asks, his hulking frame barring me from entering.
“I came to see Silvia. She said she’d watch Gabby for me?” The end of my sentence comes out as a question as I struggle to keep the tremor from my voice. But I lift my chin to imitate a confidence I’m trying desperately to cling to.
“For god’s sake, Lukyan, let her in.” Silvia’s voice rings with authority from somewhere behind the guard, and relief floods me.
He steps aside a moment later, granting me access at her insistence. Silvia extends her arms to take Gabby as soon as I enter.
“Thank you so much,” I gush, striding forward.
“Like I said, anytime.” Silvia smiles, her hazel eyes warm.
Gabby willingly goes to her, seeming at ease with the woman who saved me almost as surely as Gleb once upon a time. I don’t know that I ever would have recovered from the trauma of being sold to Mikhail Sidorov if not for Silvia’s steadfast support and kindness.
“Good luck,” she offers as she shoos me out the door, sensing my urgency.
My clock keeps ticking down as I race back toward Manhattan for my photo shoot, and by the time I make it to the set location, I’ve worked up a sweat and feel like I just ran a marathon.
“You must be Ms. O’Mara,” a tall brunette observes as soon as I burst into the studio.
“Yes, sorry. I got here as quickly as I could.”
“No, no. This is perfect. Hair and makeup are ready for you. They’ll have you done up so quickly, it’ll make your head spin.” The brunette flashes me a cheeky grin and gestures for me to follow her. “My name’s Savannah. Let me know if you need anything before we get started.”
