Chapter 6

“Oh, Daria, I knew you’d do well!” Teodora exclaimed, her face lighting up with pride.

“Thanks, Mummy! I think I really nailed it. I answered everything, and even the questions I’d hoped for came up!”

The two Petrescu women embraced, Daria still in her school uniform and Teodora in her dressing gown. “Oh, and Nikolai is taking us both out tonight, but first, we need to finish prepping our early dinner. He’s supposed to be here by 5!” Teodora suddenly realized, her voice tinged with excitement and a hint of panic. “I need to be ready by then, oh my God!”

“Mummy, I’d better change out of my school uniform.”

“Your last time wearing it today, I guess,” Teodora said, a bit wistfully. “But first, you have to help me cook!”

The two women hurried to change. Teodora slipped into a chic, knee-length wrap dress that flattered her figure and made her feel confident, pairing it with a simple necklace and comfortable heels. Daria chose a modest yet lovely outfit—a black knee-length skirt with a pretty blouse and a soft cardigan, finishing the look with flats that were perfect for both dinner and the concert.

As they cooked, the doorbell rang. “He’s early,” moaned Teodora, a mix of excitement and nerves fluttering in her stomach.

But when she opened the door, it wasn’t Nikolai—it was Irina and Anya.

“I told you two to stay away!” Teodora snapped, her frustration boiling over.

“It’s my house too,” Anya shot back, her tone defiant. She was dressed in a denim jacket, a blue summer dress, and white trainers, while Irina stood behind her in jeans and a jumper. “Come on, guys,” Irina added, “it’s going to rain. We just want to hang out in Anya’s room.”

“I know exactly what you’re going to do!” Daria shouted, her anger rising. “Mummy has a visitor, and what do you think he’ll think if he sees or hears you two whores carrying on upstairs?”

“Why are you inviting him, Mummy?” Anya asked accusingly. “If you want to sleep with him, just say it and we’ll be quiet.”

“Anya!” Teodora scolded, her face flushing with embarrassment.

“You’re such a disgrace to our family,” Daria yelled at her younger sister. “You knew we needed you gone for just a few hours. And you...” she turned on Irina, “we’ve tolerated you here too long. Get out of here now!”

Suddenly, Teodora caught sight of Nikolai Solokov’s tall figure approaching, seemingly searching for their apartment.

“He’s here!” she panicked, glancing back at Anya and Irina. “Please, girls, just stay up there and don’t make any noise. Please, just for an hour and a half.”

Irina and Anya exchanged glances, sighed, and laughed before slowly heading toward Anya’s bedroom, Daria’s dark-eyed glare following them every step of the way.

Teodora quickly grabbed her phone and started playing classical music, hoping to create a calming atmosphere and, more importantly, drown out any potential noise from upstairs. She took a deep breath, trying to regain her composure as she prepared to welcome Nikolai, praying that everything would go smoothly despite the unexpected chaos.

Upstairs in the bedroom, Anya was irked. Why was her mother so infatuated with this man anyway? She was determined to get a look at him when he left, but in the meantime...

“Let’s get you out of those jeans, Irina,” Anya murmured to her girlfriend, slipping her finger under the waistband of Irina’s jeans, tracing the cotton gusset of her panties, and nibbling at her lips.

“Hey, business is business,” Irina whispered, a mischievous grin on her face. “Let’s turn on the cam.”

“Okay, but let’s be quiet,” Anya snickered, her eyes gleaming with mischief.

“Imagine we’re 69ing in front of like, 1000 people, and your sister walks in, or your mother, or her new boyfriend,” teased Irina, her tone both playful and daring. Anya had already shrugged off her jacket and pulled her dress over her head, leaving her in just a white bra and panties. She tossed a pillow at Irina, giggling.

“You really fancy my sister, don’t you?” Anya teased, her eyes twinkling with amusement.

“Why not? She’s just like you,” Irina said, her tone serious, but a playful glint in her eyes.

Anya grinned mischievously. “I think I need to tie you up and and give you a quiet punishment,” she teased, snickering as she glanced at the screen, watching the flood of requests from their subscribers pour in.

Downstairs, Nikolai was a bit intrigued by the volume of the music but chose not to question it. Instead, he complimented the ladies on both the food and the choice of artist.

“Teodora, you are a lady of taste. I enjoy Mahler myself after a hard day’s work,” he said with a warm smile.

“Thank you, Nikolai,” Teodora blushed with pleasure. “Music has always been so important to me. You know, so many men have no idea about classical music.”

“Nikolai, can you play?” Daria asked, intrigued. It was so rare at her school to find boys interested in classical music, a passion she held dearly.

“I was a bit of a guitarist, a rock musician in my youth,” he laughed. “And I’ve recently started learning the violin. My daughter is a huge fan of it.”

“Do you have a picture of your daughter?” Daria asked, her curiosity piqued.

“Daria, don’t be nosy,” Teodora chided gently.

“No, don’t worry,” Nikolai reassured them with a smile. “I love it when people take an interest in each other’s families. It’s what’s most important in life.” He pulled out his wallet and showed them a picture of himself with a young teenage girl. Daria and Teodora cooed over the photo.

“She looks just like you, Nikolai,” Teodora admired. “She has your eyes.”

Nikolai smiled, though his thoughts were elsewhere. The picture had been taken at his complex, and the “daughter” in the photo, Miriam, was actually a Libyan slave girl, kidnapped as a refugee. He remembered the amazing sex he had with Miriam, both before and after the seemingly innocent photo was taken. “Miriam, she is my world,” he said, while momentarily wondering where she was now. She had been heavily tattooed at the request of her purchaser, and he couldn’t quite recall where or to whom she had been sold. His main focus, however, was on the two ladies in front of him.

“Daria, how did your exam go?” Nikolai asked, his tone full of hope.

“I think ... I did well!” Daria grinned, her eyes sparkling as she thought about it. “I hope I did well enough to get into medical school, but we’ll see!”

“Sounds like good grounds for celebration,” Nikolai said, raising his glass in a toast to them all.

“You must give me the recipe for this,” he complimented their meal. “It is quite wonderful.”

“Thank you!” Teodora beamed, pleased with his praise.

“It’s Mămăligă,” Daria added, raising an eyebrow. “I would have thought you’d know it if you had a childhood and parents from here.”

“Oh, well...” Nikolai seemed a little flustered for the first time, and Daria was just on the verge of noticing something her mother had missed—something that had been nagging at her. He didn’t seem to have any online presence when she’d searched for him, and he hadn’t recognized the name of the most famous Moldovan football team when it had come up in conversation. In the back of her mind, she also thought of the large white van she had seen now parked outside their house, which had never been there before.

Her suspicions were still simmering beneath the surface, not yet fully formed, when a loud, unmistakably sexual cry rang out from upstairs, cutting through the music from Anya’s room.

“Oh ... that’s my daughter I was telling you about, Nikolai. I ... I didn’t want to tell you, but, well, typical teenager—she likes to stay in her room. She’s ... you know ... sorry...” Teodora stammered, her voice faltering as she tried to cover up the situation.

“She could join us, perhaps?” Nikolai suggested warmly, though his eyes flickered with curiosity.

“Oh no, I think it’s best if she just calms down on her own,” Teodora quickly interjected, her smile strained and desperate. “Next time you come back, I promise I’ll introduce you ... now is not the time.” Her fixed, waxen smile hid the storm of humiliation and anger brewing inside her as the faint sounds of spanking and more moans and squeals drifted downstairs.

“Errr ... is she alone?” Nikolai asked, now truly baffled by the situation.

“Oh ... she’s just watching TV, I’m sorry,” Teodora stuttered, her face turning crimson. “I’ll tell her to keep it down.”

With a forced smile, she excused herself and hurried upstairs, her face burning with a mix of humiliation and fury. Meanwhile, Nikolai and Daria were left facing each other, the awkwardness in the room palpable. Daria’s suspicions were now overshadowed by the intense embarrassment at the noises, and she desperately tried to change the subject. “So ... what’s your favorite food, Nikolai?” she asked, her large brown eyes pleading with him to focus on her and not the sounds echoing through the house.