"Well, you're moving to my room."
"Okay, sir."
"Aren't you going to ask why or something?"
"I'm not in a position to question your orders, sir."
"Okay, I guess so."
"Mom and Larisa will be here for a while, so be on your best behavior. Don't give them any reason to suspect. And please—try to act human, be a little friendly."
"Okay, sir."
"Go and pack."
"Okay, sir."
As I turned toward the door, a voice stopped me.
"Mi dispiace."
I said nothing and walked away after gathering my things, my mind swirling with what he could possibly mean by I'm sorry.
For what, exactly?
Everything was getting stranger by the day.
I had no reason to believe those words carried sincerity—no reason to pity him, or myself. Like he said, I had no worth, value, or meaning.
Later, the maids came to pack some of my essentials and move them to his room.
On my way out, a voice stopped me again—Larisa's.
"Meena, I'm sorry for being such a lousy interrogator. I thought maybe you wanted company, but I guess you're just like my brother. No wonder he likes you."
I looked at her face. A pang of guilt struck me. What's wrong with you? She was trying to befriend me, and I kept shutting her out.
"I'm sorry, Larisa," I said politely.
"Huh, she's talking... to me."
"I'm not used to having people around, or opening up. But I want to try—with you. If you can spare a few hours, maybe we can hang out and get to know each other."
"Wait—are you actually agreeing to be friends?"
"Well, if that's okay with you."
"Of course, girl! You won't regret having a friend like me. And please—drop the formalities. We're friends now. Maybe even best friends."
"Okay, Larisa. Let's see how fun you really are."
"How about a spa day for us?"
"Today? Or later?"
"Now."
Larisa quickly grabbed her phone and called the driver—Adrino's personal driver, I guessed.
"Ken, could you please take us to the spa?"
"Okay, ma'am. I'll be there in 15 minutes."
"Have you told your brother?"
"Forget it. He's not like I'm kidnapping you. Besides, you're not his child."
"Now let's go get changed!" Larisa said, practically bouncing.
For the first time in a long time, I smiled at someone other than Iris or Mama—a genuine smile.
With Larisa's help—the self-proclaimed fashionista—I slipped into a royal denim dress and black sneakers.
I let my hair down and stared into the mirror.
Do I look beautiful?
Of course I do. I don't need a beautician to tell me that.
Larisa gasped.
"OMG, girl, you look so hot! I've gotta get you out of here before my brother sees you and falls in love all over again."
"Ha, Larisa, don't be so dramatic."
We sneaked out of the house—I wasn't sure why, but Larisa said she wanted me all to herself.
Truthfully, for the first time in a long time, I felt something like hope.
BLACKOUT