Maria Vasilievna is the wife of one of the richest men in the world, Alexander Vasiliev. As the wife of a wealthy man, she must abide by certain standards and obey her husband, always supporting him and taking care of him. In turn, her husband treat...
To say that I was surprised when I woke up would be a very very big understatement.
I was lying on a beach, on the warm sand in yesterday's clothes. The ocean was so bright and blue and the waves were calm. A large palm tree was above me providing nice shelter from the beaming sunlight rays.
It was all very nice, but how did I get here? And where was here?
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
A deep, gruff voice behind me startled me and I gasped.
"Well, good morning, Maria. I see you have finally woken up."
No no no no! This was that same Russian man who had been threatening me. I had immediately recognized his face.
I knew he spoke Russian, and so I began to yell at him in our native language. He simply just laughed and waited until my yelling fit came to an end.
"Darling, darling. Settle down please!"
I sat in the sand and turned away from him.
What did he want? Where was Alexander and where was I? I knew this wasn't New York, that's for sure, so how long was I out? And how did they drag me here?
Oh, so many questions were flooding my brain and I felt my heart start to accelerate. Oh, this was awful, I should have told Alexander or anyone! Why am I so stupid?
"I'll answer all those questions swimming in your mind, but you must do what we tell you. Mrs. Vasilievna, trust me, we mean you no harm whatsoever. So, if you simply do what we instruct you to do, then you will have no trouble at all and no harm will come to you."
I knew I could believe that. Russian people have this amazing characteristic of being extremely blunt. If he had wanted to hurt me, he would let me know.
I took a few deep breaths. The man saw that I calmed down and proceeded to explain to me the situation.
"I'm Stephan. For the next... well, for as long as we need to, you'll be pretending to be my daughter. Does that make good sense?"
I nodded. At least he didn't want me to be his mistress.
He was a man with wrinkles already lining up his face and all over his hands. I would give him 50 or 60 years of age. He had dark eyes and thick eyelashes and a very kind smile that showed his not-so-white teeth. Yes, I know, he didn't seem like a regular threatener, he actually seemed like a slightly alcoholic but very nice father.
"Very well."
"I'm glad. Now, you must attend an event with me tonight. Your clothes are in your room that Sasha will show you to."
I opened my mouth to ask just a few of the millions of questions piling up inside of me, but Stephan interrupted me.
