CHAPTER fy ere saudade (n.) a nostalgic longing to be near something or someone that is distant Wila Four months later Warm, HUMID AIR BREEZED INTO the studio from the open terrace doors, rustling the sheer curtains. Below the veranda lay a white sandy beach, crystal-blue water, and palm trees swaying in the wind. Belize was gorgeous. A paradise on earth. Though even here, my thoughts wandered across the Atlantic Ocean. I wondered what Russia looked like in the summer. My imagination pictured the country covered in eternal ice and snow. Still, Moscow called to me while paradise’s breeze caressed my hair. “Chop, chop!” Flora clapped her hands in the air, her tribal-patterned poncho rising to show the leotard beneath. “Carlos is going to be here in ten minutes, and you know how much he hates to be kept waiting.” The stylist standing behind me rolled her eyes and spritzed my blownout curls. When I arrived in Miami four months ago, I’d returned to my childhood home even though Ronan had given me enough money to purchase a small condo if I wanted to. But I was compelled to do something before I left The Moorings forever. Stepping through the front door, I found an empty house and lots of dust. Every piece of furniture sat in the same place, but the memories left behind were silent, like they’d left with Borya and the maids.