There are no extended relatives to worry about on either side so I’m okay there, but there would have been other people they were close to.
Adriana also went by many aliases. She had a different name for when she was at school, to when she went out on the town. She also had a different name when associating with her friends but I can’t trust that she kept her identity a complete secret.
What if she didn’t?
Or, fuck? It doesn’t even need to be a person. It could be pictures.
Raul had pictures in his house of his late wife and daughter, who looked nothing like me. I didn’t even remember those until now.
What if Mikhail’s men find something there?
Now that a few days have passed, it’s all sinking in that I don’t know if I can keep up the charade.
How am I supposed to live the rest of my life as someone else?
How do I do that?
When Mikhail calls me Adriana and I stall because that’s not me, what do I do?
That’s on a simple level. But on a larger scale, something more could happen to give him clues that something’s off with me.
Last night, he picked up on two things I hadn’t even considered. He asked about the engagement ring the real Adriana wore all the time even when she was screwing around. He also asked about the marks on my back.
The men in the cartel are ruthless bastards, but most of the ones with sense like Raul don’t mark the bodies of the women who will earn them money. He wouldn’t have dared hit Adriana anyway because he loved her. By the same token, Felipe wouldn’t have cared if she was covered in bruises and looked like the creature from the black lagoon because of all he stood to make from getting control over the cartel.
Raul stopped hitting and knocking me around when he decided he was going to sell me. That was my get-out-of-jail-free card.
I keep wondering what’s next.
What will Mikhail notice next?
This is the start of my third day here, and I’m a mess again.
To add to my debacle, I don’t like the way my body reacts when I’m with him. Being told to please him in order to survive and keep José alive is one threat that will keep me in line.
He found my kryptonite. But what do I do when I no longer feel like I’m being forced?
What does that say about me?
I don’t know what the hell happens to me when he touches me, but it’s not something good. Or something I should get used to. Last night, I found myself craving more of what he gave me, but if I’m being honest, I’ve felt like that since his first touch in Mexico.
Maybe I have gone crazy, indeed, and I’m on a different level of fucked up.
At seven thirty, I get ready and make my way downstairs for breakfast. The last thing I need is for Aleksander to come summoning me like he did yesterday.
I notice him on the way to the dining room, but I don’t greet him the way I did yesterday, and neither does he, which is fine. It’s clear he doesn’t like me.
I’m used to being disliked, so that works.
I’m surprised when I walk into the dining room and don’t see Mikhail there.
The same maid from yesterday serves me but again doesn’t talk. Her name is Irena, and the other, who assists the chef in the kitchen, is Shelly.
Both are quite pleasant, but it’s weird they don’t say anything at all to me at any point of the day.
Ten minutes pass with still no sign of him. I don’t know if that means he left the house early or if he’s just late. I eat because I’m nervous
It’s better if I don’t see him. It’s easier but nerve wrecking.
