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“Not since I was fourteen. I’m Konstantin Yurevich’s head housekeeper, and I’ve earned that title through years of good service. Put this on, dear.” She tosses me a pair of fleece pants and a loose, long-sleeved top. It would normally be too warm for the room’s temp, but I’m shivering.
My failed escape has left me chilled to the bone.
I nearly died.
If Konstantin hadn’t saved me, I’d be with my sister right now.
Clutching the shirt, I shove it over my head, and use it to rub away my tears. I’m not sad. I’mangry.It’s too soon for me to die. I still have to find out who murdered Olivia and why.
When this is all over, you can have whatever you want. All you have to do is ask.
If I can’t have my sister back … then maybe I can use Konstantin to help avenge her death.
There’s just one slight problem. A single word that sent me swimming across that lake in the first place.
Babies.
“Are you alright, dear?” Ivica asks.
“It’s just lake water from my hair getting in my face.” Wiping my cheeks, I slide on the pants, enjoying how soft they feel.
“It feels good to be dry, doesn’t it?” she chuckles. “I’ve been in this castle for years, and I’ve never seen someone swim across that whole lake except for Konstantin Yurevich and Gerasim Petrovich. Those two love to race each other.”
That gets my attention. “Do you know what the wordKostyameans?”
“It’s the diminutive for Konstantin,” Ivica explains. When she sees the blank expression on my face, she adds, “An affectionate name, if you will.”
“But why do you call him Konstantin Yurevich? I thought his last name was Siderov.”
“Oh.” Ivica musters a small laugh. “That’s his patronymic.”
“Patro-what?”
“You’re not very familiar with Russian names, are you, dear?”
“I’m afraid not. Care to give me a crash course?”
“Gladly.” Ivica smiles. “Every Russian person’s name comes in three parts: the first name, the patronymic that tells us who their father is, and the family name. It is considered a show of deference and respect to call someone by their name and their patronymic.”
“So,” I start. “His full name is Konstantin Yurevich Siderov?”
“Precisely.”
“But you wouldn’t call him Kostya?”
“Never. Most of us here won’t dare address him that way. It’s too personal for someone in his position.”
“Too personal even for his future wife?” I ask sourly.
“Well.” Her cheeks redden before she turns away to pick up the basket of wet clothes. “That depends. My mother always told me that you can tell how close a husband is to his wife, by the name she calls him.”
That driver … Gerasim. He called Konstantin by his diminutive. They must be really close.
I jump up to block her from leaving. “Can you tell me what Gerasim’s relationship is to Konstantin?”
Ivica’s thin, almost invisibly blonde brows, furrow tight. “I’m afraid I can’t do that.”
I was starting to feel warm again, but all the ice returns to my blood at once. “Because he’s a mob boss?”
