“Girls!” Papa yells. “Downstairs. Now.”
With one last look at my reflection, I bunch up the layers of lace in my hands and somehow make my way downstairs. Papa’s arm is in a sling and still healing, but he insisted on coming for the lunch today.
I descend the staircase one step at a time, and Mama shakes her head as she watches. Papa looks confused at my appearance, but he brushes it off. Ironically, when he looks at Ana on the stairs behind me, a deep frown appears on his face. “What are you wearing?”
“What am I wearing?” Incredulity paints her features. She throws an arm my way. “Have you seen Freya?”
Papa waves a dismissive hand. “She is covered. It’s good.”
Of course he’d think nothing of my dress. He didn’t care that it was ugly, just that it covered more than Ana’s did. I resist the urge to roll my eyes. Men. Always so territorial.
“Papa,” Ana murmurs. “It’s the middle of summer. I’ll boil to death if I dress like her.”
“She’s right, Yuri,” Mama fills in as her disapproving gaze settles on me. “Your daughter is crazy.”
Papa huffs, lifting an exasperated hand. “I’ve had it with all you women. Let’s go.”
We file into two cars, Mama and Papa with two men, and Ana and I with Sergei and Dimitri.
“How are you feeling today, devochka?” Sergei asks me as he opens my door.
“Okay,” I reply tartly as I get into the car. He reaches out to help me with my dress, but I gather the tulle up by myself, stuffing it into the car and shutting the door.
I know Sergei probably meant it when he said he tried — that he has even less power than my father when it comes to the Costas, but I’m still annoyed with him for not picking me up from the rink yesterday and forcing me to get in a car with the devil instead.
Ana presses herself against the opposite door so that she doesn’t drown in all my tulle. “How are you not getting all itchy?”
Chuckling softly, I pull down a few layers to find her cheeks flushed. She cringes. “I feel like I’m going to break out in hives from just sitting next to you.”
I grin. Now that’s the kind of reaction I was looking for.
We drive for a while, Ana humming along to a Harry Styles song on the radio. The venue is Costa territory, an Italian bistro in the heart of Brooklyn. When we finally arrive, I have to gather up the heaps of lace around me before I can get out the car.
We’re right in front of a small fortune telling shop, and there’s a poster on the glass that reads complimentary tarot readings. Ana eyes it longingly.
Ahead of us, Sergei and Dimitri have already entered the restaurant, thinking we’re right behind them. Glancing at Ana, I know she won’t go in no matter how much she wants to, so I pull her towards the shop. She fights me on it, of course. “Freya, they’ll be waiting for us, we can’t just—”
“Shh,” I cut her off, “We won’t be long.”
I’m not in a rush to see the devil’s face, anyway.
The door chimes as soon as we enter. Inside, incense sticks burn, smoke creating slow, dreamlike swirls in the air. The place is filled to the brim with posters, trinkets and crystals, lit up with warm, effulgent energy.
There’s a lady at the front, and when she looks up to face me, I catch a glimpse of her face. With olive skin, high cheekbones, and big, curly, silver hair, she’s eerily beautiful.
YOU ARE READING
Torment | 18+ ✓
RomanceRunning from hell isnʼt easy. Especially when thereʼs someone dragging you back down into it. Belligerent, brash and always in shades of black, Freya is hardly a lady. Hidden away by her father, sheʼs lived a normal life despite being born into the...
