A Devious Arrangement (Twisted Vows #3)

Prologue

Anastasia, Age 5

Bad things don’t happen on sunny days. Not when the sky is blue and the breeze is warm.

At least, that’s what I used to think.

My ribbon slips through my fingers. It’s shiny and pink with light purple dots. Mama said it would make my eyes shine. I want to show her how pretty my dress is, but Mrs. Irina says I have to stay still. She tugs my hair, and my head tilts back. It feels like she’s been doing this forever. It’s hard not to move, but I try my best. Mama says princesses listen to their elders.

My legs aren’t long enough to touch the ground, so I swing my feet under the bench, wiggling side to side.

“Careful. If you keep moving like that, you’re going to get hurt,” Mrs. Irina scolds me, holding a curling iron, but her eyes are soft in the mirror’s reflection.

“Yes, ma’am,” I reply, and her smile brightens.

Mrs. Irina is my nanny, and she loves me very much.

There’s a click, and the last crimson curl bounces around my face.

“All done!” Bubbles float up my chest as excitement takes over. I go to get up, but Mrs. Irina stops me.

“You don’t want to miss the best part.” She opens a blue velvet box, showing me what’s inside.

“Wow!” My mouth drops open as she lowers a glittery tiara onto my head, pinning it in place. “Pwetty.”

“When your mother was your age, she had one just like this.” Mrs. Irina lifts my hair over my shoulders, letting the soft curls fall heavily down my back.

“Weally?” I look at it with round eyes, taking in all the sparkles.

“Yes, of course. She would stand up straight, and everyone would tell her how lovely she looked. Can you do that too? Can you stand up straight?”

“Yes, ma’am.” I stand, shoulders back like she taught me, and keep my chin up.

“Perfect.” She strokes her fingers through my hair. “No mischief today, okay?”

I bite my lip, but I can’t stop my smirk. Mama and Mrs. Irina are always telling me I’m up to no good. It’s not my fault everywhere we go is boring. No one plays with me. Instead, all the other children sit perfectly with their parents.

“I promise,” I fib.

She chuckles. “Just do your best. There’s a lot of important people coming today to see you. After all, it is your birthday. You’re five now, Anastasia, and five-year-olds are big girls.”

I stand even taller and parrot, “Big girl.”

My body’s filled with jitters, and I hop from foot to foot. I want to show Mama my dress.

I’m already at the door when Mrs. Irina calls out, “Wait for me. I’ll just tidy up, then I can bring you.”

My eyes sting, and my mouth curves down. “I want to show Mama.”

She sighs, then nods. “Okay, but careful?”

“Okay.” I rush out of the room, through the hall, and take the steps two at a time. I have to skip since my legs aren’t long enough to reach. Mama says one day I’ll grow up to be as tall as her. I want to be just like Mama.

The living room is an explosion of colors, like a rainbow has thrown up all over the place. There are flowers everywhere and pretty streamers hanging from the ceiling. But what steals my attention are the balloons! They’re all different sizes and cool shapes. I see pictures of princesses and fancy words I can’t read yet. I gasp, and my eyes widen at the giant, shiny silver one with a rainbow unicorn on it. It’s tied on the back of a weight, and I struggle to get it off. Determined, I tug and tug until it finally pops free into my hand.

It starts to fly away, so I wrap the ribbon around my wrist over and over.

My balloon follows me as I run through colors that swirl around me, calling for my mama. My stockinged feet slide to a stop when I peek into the kitchen. On the island, there’s a tower of purple cupcakes that’s as tall as me. My stomach growls. My tummy was too tingly to eat breakfast this morning.

Glancing from side to side to check no one is here, I grab a cupcake. I have to hold it with two hands to take a bite. It’s sweet and delicious, and I try to finish it quickly.

There’s laughter coming from the doorway, and I look up to see my mama beaming down at me. She looks like an angel, light floating in around her, making her red hair glow.

Mama is never mad. Unlike Papa.

“What am I going to do with you?” She crouches down in front of me until her eyes are at the same height as mine and wipes my face with a cloth. “There, now you look like a princess. Now, let’s see your dress.”

I spin, the pink skirt of my dress fanning around me, twirling over and over until I get dizzy.

Mama’s warm fingers catch my shoulder. “Happy birthday, Anastasia.”

My cheeks hurt from my smile, and I jump into her arms, wrapping mine around her neck, holding her closer.

She squeezes me once more before settling me onto my feet. Her eyes shine when she says, “Be good today, alright. I’ve got something extra special for you tonight.”

I bite my tongue and nod. I’ll only get in trouble if Sebastian teases me. I can’t help it if he deserves it.

Mama leans in and whispers, “You’re more and more like me every day.”

I wrap my arms around her and bury my face into her stomach. Her soft chuckle vibrates against me. She smells sweet, like cupcakes.

“We don’t want to ruin your hair.” She pulls away, and the corner of my lips turn down. I’m not ready to let her go. I know parties are fun, but I like being with Mama more.

Her fingers are warm as she brushes my curls from my face, adjusting my tiara, and leans down to kiss my forehead. “How about we cuddle and watch a movie in bed when everyone goes home?”

“Okay!” I say, a lightness lifting my chest. She always knows what will make me happy. “I get to choose.”

Her laugh is bell-like. “Of course. It is your birthday.”

I twirl, and my arms fly up above me, just like I learned in ballet class.

I didn’t do it right because the world keeps spinning when I stop. Mama reaches out to steady me just when the balloon’s red ribbon slips from my wrist. I leap to catch it, but my fingers don’t reach.

“Mama!” I jump again.

She tries too, but the ceiling’s too high. It towers above us, and my silver balloon rests at the peak.

“We’ll just have to grab you another one.”

“But I want that one. It has a unicorn on it.” Hot tears leak from my lashes.

Mama looks up, then smiles at me, cupping my face and wiping my tears. “Don’t cry. It makes Mama sad when you cry.”

All the other mamas are strict and cold, but my mama is warm.

I sniffle and nod. “Yes, Mama.”

“Good girl. I’ll get it for you.”

I watch as she jumps up to sit on the counter and slowly slides her feet under her. My eyes widen as she stands. Mrs. Irina and Mama always say I’m not allowed on there. I want to tell Mama it’s not safe, but she’s reaching up for my balloon.

There’s a creak in the hall and a soft shuffling sound. I run out to check who it is. I haven’t seen my older brother, Nikolai, all morning, and I want him to see my dress. He’s four years older than me, and everyone says he looks just like our dad. The living room is empty, so I walk deeper through the house until I’m almost at the front door.

There’s the shadow of a man through the glass. Is he here for my party? I raise my hand to the handle but drop it. Mama told me to never open the door.

A scream pierces the room, and the loud crash from the kitchen has me running.

She’s lying on the ground. The red of her hair that matches mine looks weird. It’s dark.

“Mama?” I call out to her, but she doesn’t move. Is she sleeping? Why is she sleeping on the floor?

“Mama?” No answer. Mama always answers.

My chest tightens, and there’s a weight I’ve never felt before. It makes it hard to breathe but also makes my breaths come out fast. I reach out… Why are my fingers trembling like that?

Mama doesn’t squeeze my hand like she normally would. I pull back and use both hands to shake her. She’s heavy, but she finally moves.

“Mama—” A sob steals my words. Her blue eyes, which everyone says look like mine, stare past me. “Mama, wake up. Wake up, Mama. Wake up!”

Footsteps pound moments before my papa slams onto his knees beside me. He’s wrapping Mama into his arms, rocking her back and forth. My own tears flow when I see streams down his cheeks. He never cries.

I wrap my arms around him. I don’t want Papa to be sad.

“It’ll be okay. Mama’s just sleeping.” I tell him.

He grabs me hard and jerks me off him with so much force a jolt runs up my spine, and my teeth clack together. His face is contorted, eyes narrowed on me. I’ve never seen anyone look like this before. He shakes me hard, and I want to tell him it hurts my neck, but he yells.

“You did this. You did this to her!”

He’s holding me too tight, but he doesn’t let go as he tells me over and over that it’s my fault.

I don’t understand. I look at Mama. “Tell him, Mama. Tell him it’s okay.”

“You little brat—” Papa growls, and I wince.

My chest goes cold like ice as he lifts his hand above us and swings it down.

There’s a gasp behind us, but I don’t look back. Papa’s hand is still coming at me.

“Mr. Volkov. You let her go.” Mrs. Irina is holding me now.

“Where the hell were you?”

“I…I was?—”

“Get out of here.” He lashes out with one arm.

She stumbles backward, landing on her butt, pulling me with her. “But…I need to stay with?—”

“You’re fired! Get out!” Papa’s demand booms in the kitchen, echoing off the walls.

Mrs. Irina makes a pained sound, but she lets me go and gets up.

Papa’s holding Mama again as Mrs. Irina disappears around the corner without looking at me.

Mama isn’t moving. She doesn’t answer Papa when he calls her name. She doesn’t look at me and say it will be okay.

My eyes burn, and my chin wobbles as I watch them. Tears flow down my face.

I want my mama.

Thin arms wrap around me from behind and tug me back as Nikolai pulls me onto his lap, and he bands me to him in a fierce grip. He’s crying too.

“Niko, why isn’t Mama waking up?”

His glistening blue eyes meet mine. “She’s gone, Ana. She’s not going to wake up.”

My head swirls as I try to understand. She has to.

I turn over my hands. They’re stained red from blood, and I scream.