Page 53 of Wicked Villain

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.” She places her hand over her heart and bites the inside of her lip.

She’s stunning in the way that models are, with flawless skin, well-styled hair, and a tall, petite frame clad in a baby-blue skater dress.

“That’s okay. I’m fine.” I look her up and down. Who is she?

“It’s my bad. I totally shouldn’t have snuck up on you.” She smiles at me, warm and friendly, tossing her hair over her shoulder. “I’m Anushka. Lev’s cousin.”

“Really?” I can’t hide the surprise in my voice. For a start, she seems… nice. Everyone I’ve met so far to do with Lev—family and staff—have been awful.

Light laughter falls from her lips. “I get that a lot. But, yes, I am Lev’s cousin. I was in Moscow, so I missed your wedding. Congratulations.” She nibbles on the inside of her lip, uncertain.

I can see she means well, so I give her a polite smile. She also doesn’t seem to know the circumstances surrounding my marriage, or maybe she does and she’s good at acting.

“Thanks,” I decide to say.

“Lev asked me to keep you company.”

Oh God. Not good. The last thing I need is more spies.

She laughs again as though I’ve said something funny. “Oh my gosh, you should see your face. Don’t worry, I’m not Zoya or”—she tosses a look at the guard on the terrace—“Gio.”

“Is that his name?”

She looks back at me. “I think so. Can never remember, so I just give them names. He looks like a Gio, doesn’t he? Though I suppose Gio is more of an Italian name. Let’s call him Maxim, then.”

I’m surprised when I find myself chuckling. “Maxim works.”

She walks around and lowers to sit on a thick tuft of grass, not caring about her dress, which definitely looks like designer wear.

She sits cross-legged in front of me and studies me. “So, tell me about yourself. I know next to nothing. I mean, I know who you are and I kind of suspect my cousin railroaded you into marrying him, but I don’t… actually know. And I guess I shouldn’t have said that.” She chuckles nervously.

I don’t know how she managed it, but she’s loosened the tension in me somewhat. It’s probably her down-to-earth carefree attitude.

“I guess railroaded can work.” I start there.

“Sorry that happened. Just for the record, I may carry the Karsavin name, but I don’t support that.” She looks sincere. “But maybe if you don’t already hate the bunch of us, I can offer some form of friendship, if you let me.”

Friendship. I’ve never had any actual friends. She would be a first. It would be good to have someone to talk to. Someone who isn’t Mama.

“I’d like that. I’ll warn you, though, I’m not really going to be that much fun at the moment.”

She grins, her bright brown eyes twinkling. “Don’t worry about that. I have enough fun in me for the both of us. So… art. That looks like your thing.” She glances back at the sketch pad. “I didn’t know you were an artist.”

Now it’s my turn to laugh. “I wish I were. This is just something I do in my free time.” I’ve never known what to say about my artwork. I could’ve been an artist, perhaps in another life where I’d be allowed to pursue a career. That would have been my dream.

“Did you study it at school?”

I shake my head. “No. I’ve just always been good at it.”

She gasps. “So, you’re self-taught?”

“Completely. I’ve been sketching since I was about five.”

“That’s seriously amazing. I’m a writer.” She perks up. “I want to be a journalist. I’m going into my last year of college in September.”

“Wow. Where are you studying?”

“Harvard.”