She only had a few hours before the gala, and she needed time to give proper attention to her hair and makeup.
But she was so much faster at reading it now. She had time for a few pages, at least.
She opened the book to the place she’d marked, and began to read:
January 22nd, 1986
He’s a liar, a liar! He lied to me about everything!
Nadia took a sharp breath, her heart racing and her stomach lurching.
She wanted to stop reading at once, to snap the book shut and continue on with her evening. But she couldn’t resist carrying on:
I could kill him!
To think of all the hours we spent together, talking and laughing. I thought we were the closest people in the world. And all along, he was playing me for a fool.
He’s put me in a horrible position. It’s too much to—god, I can’t even write it out! My hand is shaking! My whole body is shaking!
I don’t know what to do.
I hate him, I hate him!
And yet I still love him. How is that even possible?
I can hear Papa pacing and stamping around out there. In another minute he’s going to come bursting in here to yell at me again.
There’s another mess that’s about to boil over.
He’d arranged some kind betrothal with Petya Turgenev. The Paris Turgenevs. And I’m supposed to be so pleased and flattered by it. Mama’s trying to tell me how lovely Paris is, and how I’ll love the food and the clothes and the weather. As if I give a damn about any of that.
They want to sell me off and they think I should be happy about it. I should be thanking them for it.
A virgin sacrifice, that’s what I am.
Only I’m not a virgin anymore.
I almost told Papa that. I was so angry, it was right on the tip of my tongue. That would put a stop to their abominable plan.
But there was this coldness, this rage, in Papa’s face. For the first time I really looked at him, and I didn’t see him as my father. I saw him as what he really is: a gangster. A criminal. A murderer.
And I thought, he could kill me for that. He could kill me for ruining his plans.
So I shut my mouth, and I ran in here.
But they’re not going to drop it, not this time.
The Turgenev alliance is too good. They won’t let go of it.
And what do I have to offer instead? My god, it’s worse than nothing, a thousand times worse.
That liar, that goddamned liar. He’s ruined everything.
That was the end of the entry, and now Nadia did throw the book down on the bed. She was sick and shaking.
She’d told herself not to be ridiculous, not to be superstitious, treating the journal like it was some kind of crystal ball. She’d thought that she was so happy and secure in Nikolai that nothing within its pages could worry her.
But there it was, articulating her worst, most secret fears about Nikolai.
