Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 85834 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 429(@200wpm)___ 343(@250wpm)___ 286(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85834 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 429(@200wpm)___ 343(@250wpm)___ 286(@300wpm)
“Do you want me to feed you?” He tips his head at Simi, and seeing the warning in his eyes that he’ll force me if he has to, and probably hurt my daughter, I quickly grab a fork and break a piece off the omelet.
“Coffee, tea, or juice?” he asks, his tone not as tense as before.
“I had water in the bathroom.”
Realizing Simi has stopped eating and she’s watching Georgi and me with big eyes, I force a tense smile to my face. “Have you had enough, milo moe?”
She pushes her glass closer to me and whispers, “Take a sip, Mama.”
Oh God, she picked up on the tension, and she’s reverted to whispering so we don’t get in trouble.
To set her at ease, I drink some of the orange juice before brushing my palm over the side of her head. “Eat more, malka.”
“Simi,” Georgi says, pulling her attention away from me. My eyes dart back to his face, and he looks right at me as he asks her, “What does your mama like to drink?”
“I don’t know.” She pats my arm. “Mama, do you like juice too?”
Wanting this conversation to stop, I admit, “I like tea. No sugar.”
“Finally,” Georgi mutters under his breath, then he grins at Simi. “Thanks for the help, printsesa.”
I keep a vigilant eye on Georgi as he pours tea into a cup.
“Milk?” he asks.
“No, thank you.”
The cup looks small in his hand as he brings it to the table. He sets it down right by me, then lifts an eyebrow, and it feels like a silent order for me to drink every last drop.
Not having much of a choice, I pick up the tea and sip on it, my other hand still on Simi’s shoulder.
Georgi goes to sit on the armchair and stretches out his left leg, pain tightening his features. His gaze flicks to me.
“Does she understand English?”
I shake my head.
“Why are you being so stubborn about eating and drinking something?”
“Because there’s always a price to pay.”
Simi pats my arm, then says, “I’m full, Mama. What must I do?”
“You can color more, if you like?”
She leans even closer and whispers, “Won’t I get in trouble for wasting food?”
“Never,” Georgi answers. “Just leave the leftovers, printsesa.”
She slips off the chair and walks to Georgi. “Must I call you prints?”
He shakes his head and leans forward, resting his right forearm on his thigh. “No, you can call me Georgi.”
With the innocence of a child, she rubs her fingers over his sleeve, as if she’s liking the feel of the silk fabric. “Where is your palace?”
“In New York. Have you heard of it?”
Simi shakes her head and continues to rub his shirt between her index finger and thumb. “No. Is it near the Enchanted Forest where Snow White lives? Do you know her?”
“Unfortunately, I don’t.”
When Simi yawns, I get up and walk to her. “Are you tired?”
“Yes, but I don’t want to miss flying to the castle.”
“You won’t,” Georgi replies. “Take a nap while I talk to your Mama.”
She glances at the bed, then back at where she’s still rubbing his shirt between her fingers.
“Santino,” Georgi calls, and a moment later, the door opens. “Bring one of my shirts with the same silk fabric as the one I’m wearing.”
The guard nods and disappears down the hallway.
I’m trying not to read too much into the kind things Georgi is doing for my daughter. I need to stay on guard because this could be a trap.
After all, I betrayed him and lured him to certain death.
At some point, Georgi is going to take his revenge. He’s probably only waiting until he feels better and has had time to heal.
Chapter 13
Georgi
When Nina has Simi settled on the bed and she remains sitting beside her child, I glance at the food.
She only had one bite.
When I’m sure Simi is asleep, I say in English, “Come sit here so we can talk.”
Nina’s body tenses more than usual, and she moves to sit at the foot of the bed. Her eyes are filled with the incessant terror I’m beginning to hate.
“You’re not going to pay a price if you eat and drink anything.”
She stares at me with an expression that tells me she’s tolerating the conversation so she doesn’t get into trouble.
Getting up, my body protests, and I limp to the cart. I pick up a piece of toast and smear butter on it before walking to Nina.
I hold it in front of her mouth, and using a tone that says, I won’t accept any arguments, I order, “Eat.”
Her eyes flick up to my face. “Nothing is free.”
“Nina.” I lift an eyebrow at her, the healing cut tugging at the hairs. “If you get sick, who’s going to take care of Simi?”
“I’m used to only eating once a day. I won’t get sick.”
“When did you last eat?”