The door opens and Yulia walks in with two maids pushing a trolley between them. It’s filled with packages neatly wrapped in brown butcher paper that gives no indication of what’s inside.
“What’s this?” I ask, rising up onto my elbows.
“Looks like you’ve had a productive day.” Yulia glances around at the strewn pillowcases and the messy bed.
“If you’re waiting for me to turn into a gracious prisoner, you can just keep right on waiting,” I snap. “I wouldn’t hold my breath if I were you.”
Yulia smiles before turning to the maids. “Wheel that into the walk-in and then leave us.”
“Clothes?” I ask. “He sent me clothes?”
“No, this is the kind of chore my son saves for me. I purchased the clothes for you.”
“Good. If they were his choice, I’d tell him to cram a stiletto up his ass.”
Yulia
