Lost in Moscow's Secret

MILABREATH RAGGED FROM THE RUN, I dropped my heels on the grass and padded barefoot across our manicured lawn, not stopping until I’d climbed onto the rocky embankment and felt the cool waves lapping at my toes and the hem of my evening dress. I panted as sweat glistened on my skin beneath the heavy moon. Agentle breeze tousled my long hair, rustling the palmtrees and my lacy cap sleeves, but the paradise constrained me as tightly as the Dior belt around my waist.The five-mile run wasn’t enough to shake the combustible feeling that expanded inside—though, as always, the sea held me back.I itched to rip the pearls from my neck, to tear my dress to shreds like Cinderella’s stepsisters had, but doing so would demolish a facade I’d maintained for so long I wasn’t sure what lay beneath. So, instead, I dug my French-tipped nails into my palms.There had to be more than this, more than a world behind The Moorings’ gates, but the desire for more than a life of opulence inflated a kernel of

MILA AS THE DEADBOLT LOCKED INTO place, I wondered what happened to good ol’Russian hospitality. They hadn’t even offered me anything to eat. Practically blasphemous, I’d learned from growing up in a Russian household, especially froma couple who seemed very in touch with their religious side.With the weight of my papa’s secret sitting heavy on my heart and the obvious fact I wasn’t welcome here, a pathetic part of me wanted to listen and just go home. But if I returned now . . .I’d dream. I’d wonder.I’d carry on existing.And I wanted to live for a change. Just for a few days. Before The Moorings sucked me back into its passionless hole. Before I married Carter Kingston, had two-point-five kids, and drowned in social luncheons, pastel-colored cardigans, and ropes of pearls.The iron gate swung back and forth in the icy breeze. Squeeaak.Clank. Squeeaak. Clank.I slipped my duffle bag over my shoulder,

His voice was so rough and soft. So composed and accented. So lenient in its delivery it slipped beneath my skin, melting the tension in my body like butter. I bet people went out of their way to listen to this man talk.“Do you have any pain besides your head?” I nodded, staring at him.Asmile touched his lips. “Where?” “My side.”Ronan rose to his full height. As he and the doctor spoke, a boy—the one I saw carrying a crate of liquor—entered the room with my duffle bag in his hands. He dropped it beside the couch and sent a glance of disgust my way.Ronan eyed himin silent warning. The boy swallowed and turned to walk out of the room. “Kirill would like to take a look at you, if you will let him.”I nodded.When Ronan headed to the door, I got to my feet, fighting a spell of dizziness at the sudden move. “Wait,” I blurted. “Where are you going?”He turned his head to study me with cautious eyes. “Giving you some privac

 MILA  “NO, REALLY I CAN PAY for my own room.”Albert was obviously hard of hearing because his stoic expression didn’t falter as he walked down the hotel hall with my bag in his hand. I trailed two steps behind the giant, struggling to keep up with him.I knew he understood English. On the way over, I touched the window while taking in the sights, and through the rearview mirror, he looked at me like I’d just slapped his favorite grandma and grumbled at me to not smudge the glass. He’d be handsome if he wiped away that scowl and didn’t shave his head like he was just released from prison. Though, with that attitude, I could only assume he was.After driving me to a swanky hotel, he handed the straight-faced concierge a wad of cash. The older man didn’t ask a single question before sliding a shiny room key into Albert’s hand. It looked like a drug deal. Or a bribe. I couldn’t be privy to Albert’s illegal activities no matter how things

MILADURING THE INTERMISSION, ONE OF the theater attendants slipped a piece of paper into Ronan’s hand. He read it and then put it into his pocket. Call it intuition, but I knew Liza wrote the note.As the curtains closed and the lights came back on, we headed down the hall to the exit, but something drew me to a stop. A portrait on the wall in a gaudy gold frame. My mother’s hair was in an elegant updo, her eyes sparkling with an animate light. Ronan waited behind me, and if he noticed the uncanny resemblance, he didn’t say anything.I swallowed and followed himout of the theater.My mother performed here. Now I knew for sure, maybe I could come back and question some of the employees tomorrow. Someone had to know if she had family and where I could find them.Having beat most of the crowd outside, we passed the old-fashioned ticket booth, where my attention caught on an elderly woman sitting on the ground wrapped in a thin, tattered bla