Page 42 of Cinderella and the Daddy
Behind me, I hear the explosive crack of his fist meeting something hard, followed by what sounds like Russian cursing.
“You don’t know the half of it, buddy,” I murmur.
12
CINDY
My palms are slick with sweat as Viktor opens the passenger door of the black SUV.
I know this is a risk.
But I have to do it.
"I’ll be right back,” I say.
Viktor doesn't question when I tell him I need a pharmacy run. Men never do when you mention feminine products—it's like a magic word that ends conversations.
"Tampons," I'd said this morning, meeting Luka's eyes across the breakfast table. "Unless you want to send one of your men to buy them for me?"
The look of horror on Viktor's face had been priceless. Luka had just nodded, sliding cash across the table with those elegant fingers that know my body too well.
Now I stand in aisle seven, staring at products I won't need for nine months, my stomach churning with more than morningsickness. The irony isn't lost on me—using the promise of my period to buy the test that will confirm I've missed it entirely.
"Fifteen minutes. Then we go."
I walk into the pharmacy. I keep my head down, baseball cap pulled low, trying to look like just another customer browsing the aisles. I am certain no one has reported me missing, but just in case. I don’t want Luka to think I tried to escape.
Why?
I dismiss the thought. I’ll have to psychoanalyze my choices later.
I make myself walk casually. I pick up a few things and then head for the feminine aisle. My hands shake as I reach for one pregnancy test. And then another. I grab two different brands, shoving them deep into my basket beneath the other items.
The cashier is a teenager with purple hair and multiple piercings, barely looking up from her phone as she scans my purchases. I pay in cash. Luka insists he covers my expenses and left me two hundred in cash this morning.
I don’t know if he knows how much tampons cost, but I think he’s trying to buy my forgiveness. I dismiss the idea. He doesn’t give a shit if I forgive him.
"Cindy?"
I freeze, the blood in my veins turning to ice water. That voice.
I turn slowly, and there she is.Anna. Mydearsister. The one whose twin brother sold me out, who delivered me straight into Luka's hands like a lamb to slaughter.
She moves toward me with arms outstretched, as if we're old friends meeting for coffee instead of siblings divided by betrayal and blood money. "What are the odds?"
The odds are zero, I think grimly. Nothing about this meeting feels like a coincidence. But I let her embrace me anyway, my body rigid as her obnoxious perfume fills my nostrils.
"Anna," I manage, my voice flat. "What a surprise."
She pulls back, keeping her hands on my shoulders, studying my face like she's cataloging changes. "You look good," she says.
"Prison will do that to you."
"Cindy, I—" She stops, glancing around the pharmacy. "We can't talk here. But I want you to know, I never meant?—"
"Save it." I step back, breaking her hold on me. "Whatever you're selling, I'm not buying."
But she's not done. Her hand moves to my throat, fingers toying with the necklace Luka gave me to replace the one he destroyed.
