Page 2 of The Mountain Man's Unexpected Bride
"Your father is gone. This is my house now. You'll do as I say. Now get out of my sight and start working to earn your living."
At my surprise, she offers a big evil smile.
"That's right. If you don't work, you don't eat. If you don't work, you won't have anywhere to sleep. So think carefully about what you want to do next."
She signals someone, and once again, I'm pulled against my will. The man takes me to the kitchen and leaves me there. The cook and the driver give me pitying looks, but the man who dragged me here gets my attention.
"You have to do as she says."
I open up the paper that I've been crushing inside my fist and look at the first task. Then I sigh and get a broom. My life has forever changed, and I have no control over it.
Chapter 1
Present day
Savannah
I'm vacuuming the hallway when my step sisters come in from a shopping spree. They have no packages, but I know they were shopping because they made sure to let me know before they left. They go into Masha's room and leave the door open.
A few moments later, Dima pops her head out the door.
"Will you stop making that noise?"
As much as I want to make sure Dima is in a pleasant mood, I can't shirk my responsibilities, so I just keep going. Luckily, she'sdistracted by the butler coming in with a mountain of bags that must be the result of their little trip.
Once he delivers the bags, he leaves, and the door is closed hard after him. I continue my task, and when I'm finished with this floor, I prepare to move to my stepmother's level. I always leave that for last, because she's still scary and is always in a bad mood. My inner devil, however, loves to make her wait. She hates it, but I've told her I need to go in order.
Masha opens the door this time and screams out of her lungs.
"Mother! Come see what we got for you."
They always bring her little presents so that she's happy with their trips. Well, as happy as possible for my stepmother these days. I hear footsteps approaching and know it's her. She won't like seeing me without doing anything, so I pick up the duster I carry with me and make as if I'm cleaning around the hallway.
She completely ignores me and rushes into my stepsister's room. She doesn't close the door all the way, and I'm finally able to hear some of their whispers. Hey, I might be their maid, but I've got to get my kicks somehow.
I approach the door, still making dusting motions.
"Girls, I've got great news! That match-making agency is sending a suitor for you. He'll have to choose between the Ivanov sisters, so you need to look your best. You might have to go get a whole new wardrobe for the occasion. He's coming in a few days to meet you."
A suitor? Someone to take them away from this life and give them a better one? My so-called sisters don't need a better life. They live in the lap of luxury and do what they want all day long.
"Is he rich? Where would we live? Will I be able to keep the same quality of life as I'm used to?"
The girls are firing all sorts of questions at their mother, and I'm eager to hear the answers, but the butler is bringing them some snacks, and he frowns at me when he sees me standingnear the door. I lower my face and continue dusting away, then grab the vacuum cleaner and run up the stairs to finish my work.
As I do my work on the third level of the house, I start daydreaming about a life away from my family. I don't really need a rich man. I've lived in rags for the past eleven years—all bought at the thrift store with whatever I've managed to save when my stepmother deigns to give me money.
She won't even let me have my sister's used clothes, saying they’re of too good quality for me to wear. Seriously, I've got to get away from here, but I feel powerless to do so.
I go back to my imaginary suitor. I've gotten some second-hand romance books and imagine him to be like one of the heroes in the books. Tall, handsome, and imposing. He wouldn't let my family continue to hurt me. I'm so deep into my little fantasy that I don't realize they have come into the room I'm cleaning. My father's room, in which Veronika moved in before my father's body was even cold.
"Get out of my room!"
"I'm sorry. I just started…"
"You are snooping around, trying to find something to steal."
She's always accusing me of stealing. I'm pretty sure her daughters are pawning her jewelry when she stops giving them spending money. I can't tell her that, though.
