Ruthless Reign: A Dark Mafia Forbidden Romance (Tarnished Reign Book 1)

Chapter 1

The bruiseunder my eye is definitely going to be a problem.

I gingerly touch the smudge of purple, wincing from the bite of pain.

Digging in my makeup drawer, I find a long-forgotten peachy-coral lipstick tucked in the top right-hand side. According to a YouTube makeup tutorial I watched on concealing dark under-eye circles, peach shades work best to neutralize violet hues.

But it’s not a late night that I’m covering up. It’s a bruise my fiancé gave me at a party last night because I told the mayor that his new public transportation plan was flawed. I was just stating facts, but I should have known better.

Anatoly hates when I talk politics.

He hates when I have an opinion that doesn’t align with his.

And he really hates when I disagree with him publicly.

As soon as the words were out of my mouth, his face hardened. He said nothing, just seized my arm and led me to a dark corner of the veranda. His anger usually comes in the form of a berating lecture, so I wasn’t expecting his fist.

It happened quickly. He raised his arm and backhanded me. I cried out as the bite of pain jolted through my skull like a bolt of lightning. My hand flew to my face as tears welled up. My body trembled, not just from the cold air but from a raw, tangled knot of disbelief.

Disbelief and fear.

The glint in his eyes as my knees weakened is branded into my memory. He liked it. It made him feel powerful. There’s nothing Anatoly likes more than power, especially over me.

A suffocating helplessness washes over me. Now that he’s raised a hand to me once, what’s to stop him from doing it again?

I wince a little as I carefully dab the lipstick over the bruise, patting it until the purple hue fades, before I add a final layer of concealer that matches my skin tone. I blow out a breath, and angle my chin this way and that under the mirror’s bright lights, making sure nothing shows through. Making sure I look perfect.

I startle at the sharp knock on my bedroom door.

Without waiting for a response, my mother sweeps into my room in a cloud of Chanel No. 5 and absolute confidence. As always, Anastasia Ivanova looks impeccable—her hair is styled in an elegant up-do, and her figure is sculpted from private workouts and draped in the latest designer fashion, thanks to Anatoly”s deep pockets.

“I came to see if you need my help with your hair or makeup,” my mother offers as sweetly as she can manage, but we both know why she”s really here.

Her eyes flick over my face, assessing. She must have noticed the bruise this morning—not that she said anything. My parents very conveniently turn the other way when it comes to Anatoly because, to them, he’s the white knight who pays our bills and keeps us in good social standing.

“I don’t need your help,” I say tightly. “Where’s Sofiya?”

For some reason, my mother insisted that my sister come home from boarding school for the dinner party we’re hosting tonight. Even though I don’t see why it’s necessary, I’m always happy to see Sofiya. She’s the one bright light in my world.

“She’s in her room getting ready. You’ll see her soon.” My mother reaches out, adjusting one of my earrings. “I don’t have to remind you how important tonight is.”

Important to her, that is. This evening, we”re hosting two of Moscow’s most influential families: the Petroviches, my fiancé’s family and owners of Russia’s largest shipping company; and the Belovs, which includes my best friend, Kira, and her husband, Maxim Belov, who leads the country’s most powerful bratva.

Funny how Mama never gave a damn about Kira until she married Maxim last year. Now she treats her like the Queen of England, and it drives me crazy. At least Kira has a sense of humor about it all.

I sigh and cross my arms. “It’s just a party, so don’t make it out to be a state dinner. Everything will be fine.”

She frowns. “Liza, this is your future family we’re talking about. It’s important for everything to go perfectly. Did you get the dress Anatoly sent?”

My lips flatten into a thin line. “I sure did.”

This morning, an ornate gift box—courtesy of my asshole fiancé—was delivered to our house. Inside, there was a dress, a pair of designer shoes, jewelry, and an ‘I’m sorry it’ll never happen again’ note tucked into a bouquet of roses.

The dress is white, skin-tight, and despite the designer label, trashy. It’s exactly how he likes me to dress.

My mother went on and on about his generosity, but his so-called gifts are just another way to control me. Everything about how I look tonight is calibrated to please him. My long dark auburn hair is down and in waves. My makeup is smoky and sexy, the smattering of freckles across my nose covered up by a layer of foundation. I’m even wearing one of two acceptable perfumes he selected.

The girl I used to be—the one who prefers chunky jewelry, flowy dresses, and messy buns—no longer exists. She was traded in for a diamond ring and a monthly allowance.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me, Mother, I really should get changed.”

She ignores the not-so-subtle hint, gently tucking a strand of hair behind my ears. “You”ll make a beautiful bride.”

I stiffen. “One day. You mean I’ll make a beautiful bride–one day.”

I”ve hoped and prayed that I could put off the wedding for as long as humanly possible. Once a date is set, the nightmare becomes real. It means moving in with Anatoly and eventually having his children. I’ll be trapped, with no way out.

Her eyes flash with irritation. “Darling, you”re twenty-five years old and not getting any younger. Do you think a man like Anatoly will wait forever?”

“I’m not rushing into a marriage before I feel ready.”

“Rushing? You’ve been engaged for a year.” She grabs my arm and her fingers dig into my flesh, shattering the illusion of a warm mother-daughter moment. “We need this marriage to happen, Liza. The monthly allowance Anatoly provides is generous, but it’s simply not enough to meet our needs. And don’t forget you”re the one who insists on that hideously expensive school for your sister. If we didn’t have to pay those exorbitant fees?—”

”That”s not up for debate,” I say, my voice tight. Why is she bringing this up now?

Her eyes narrow. “You’re engaged—a wedding is the natural next step. Once you’re married, Anatoly will ensure Papa is given a lucrative position on the Petroviches’ board of directors.” She pauses, her expression hardening. “Think about the future, Liza. It’s not just about you. This affects all of us. Sofiya as well.”

There it is. My mother knows my weakness. Everything I do is for Sofiya. Without Anatoly”s money, we”d be out on the street, and my sister’s comfortable life and fine education would be ripped away.

My throat tightens, and anger burns in my gut. I”m tempted to remind her that if she had reined in my father”s gambling and wasn”t so obsessed with keeping up appearances, we wouldn’t be in this mess. But I’m really not in the mood for a lecture on how ‘family comes first, no matter the personal cost,’ so I keep silent. She twists everything I say anyway.

I take a steadying breath and address her as calmly as I can. “Anatoly is busy running the family business while his father is getting cancer treatment. A wedding is the last thing on his mind.”

My mother strokes my cheek, her expression blank. “You really should get dressed.”

She turns to leave, and I try my best to ignore the uneasy feeling lodged in my chest.

An hour later,I’m slipping into a pair of dangerously tall Louboutins when my bedroom door swings open with a burst of energy. Without a glance, I know exactly who it is.

“Lizka, I’ve missed you.” My sister smiles, wrapping her arms around me. “Honestly, this semester has felt never-ending.”

Sofiya might be eight years my junior, but at seventeen, she’s nearly my height, which always takes me by surprise. In my mind, she’ll forever be the gangly girl with pigtails and a gap-toothed grin. But that’s definitely not the woman in front of me now.

“I’ve missed you too.” I step back to take in her dark waves, so much like mine. “We have an hour before the guests arrive. Tell me everything that”s been going on with you.” I rub my hands in anticipation. “Spill all your secrets.”

Sofiya rolls her eyes and flops down onto my bed with a theatrical sigh. “Secrets? As if. The nuns don’t allow you to keep any secrets in that prison of a boarding school.”

I toss a throw pillow at her and carefully perch on the edge of the bed, because that’s all I can manage in this tight dress.“Oh, come on. They’re not that bad.”

I graduated from the same boarding school over seven years ago, back when my parents still had money. Kira and Anatoly also attended, which is where we all first met.

“They are! Alina Solovyova was suspended for a week because the headmistress found letters from a boy under her pillow.” She smirks. “The letters did have some explicit details about the time they’d spent together over the summer, but still. It’s none of their business what we do in our personal lives.”

“Speaking of personal lives… Have you met anyone special?”

She gives a little half-smile. “There’s this one guy, Denis, from the boy’s school. He’s pretty cute, but it’s not like we can see much of each other. The nuns make sure we’re never alone.”

I laugh softly. “Yeah, I remember how good they were at keeping us out of trouble.”

She arches an eyebrow. “Like you ever got into any trouble. I bet you were a perfect student, just like you’re a perfect daughter and a perfect fiancée.”

“I’m far from perfect,” I’m quick to say, but I’m well aware that”s the fa?ade I”ve maintained to the world, including her.

“Well, you’re obviously doing something right.” She scoops up my left hand, admiring the princess cut diamond ring on my finger. A ring that feels more like a ball and chain than a declaration of love.

She props her head in her hands. “I swear, you’re so lucky to have found the man of your dreams.”

The man of my nightmares is more like it.

Sofiya knows that Anatoly funds our lifestyle, but she doesn’t know what it costs me. That I’m sacrificing my happiness for her future. And I hope she never finds out. It would only upset her.

“Want me to do your makeup?” I offer, in an attempt to change the subject.

“Ohhh, yes!” She claps her hands and takes the seat in front of my vanity mirror. “What’s the deal with this lipstick?” She uncaps the tube, and spreads a thin layer on the back of her hand.

I grimace and snatch it from her. “I was just cleaning out my makeup drawer, getting rid of stuff I don”t need.”

“You can add that to the pile. Peach lips are definitely not in this season.”

I give her a joking shove, then dig through my drawer for a smoky gray eyeliner and a golden eyeshadow to highlight her green eyes, identical in shade to mine.

As I finish applying the liner, she cracks a lid. “Oh, speaking of cute guys… I heard Roman Vasiliev is coming tonight.”

My heart stills, as it does every time I hear that name. “Roman?” I swallow hard. “I thought he was out of the country.”

“He’s back. Mama just mentioned it. I think she’s trying to set me up with him, which is weird. I mean, he’s hot and rich and all, but he’s twice my age.”

I grit my teeth. My mother has officially lost the plot.

Roman is a dangerous man, one of Maxim’s right hands. Along with Pavel Fedorov, the three of them run the Belov Syndicate.

“She never mentioned to me he was coming, but if she had, I would have told her he wasn’t worth the invite.”

Sofiya gives me a knowing look. “Are you still holding a grudge against him? He was only doing his job.”

Roman was Kira’s “bodyguard” when she and Maxim married. In reality, Roman was spying on Kira because Maxim was suspicious of his new wife’s reasons for agreeing to their arranged marriage. Every time Kira and I went shopping or grabbed drinks, Roman was there—watching her, but somehow always staring at me. Making me feel things I didn’t want to feel.

I wish I could say my issue with Roman was a simple grudge—that would be easy enough to ignore—but the emotions he provokes in me are anything but simple.

I aggressively swirl a soft brush in a pot of eyeshadow. “Yes, well, I didn’t appreciate being spied on. Everything we said was reported back to Maxim.” I clear my throat. “I know it’s in the past, but I still don’t like him. He’s so, so…” Sexy. Infuriating. Ridiculously handsome. “Full of himself.”

My sister lifts an eyebrow suggestively. “Any man who looks like that has every right to be.”

I press my lips together. It’s true, though I’d never admit it.

“Trust me, steer clear of men like him. You’ll have plenty of time for dating when you’re older. For now, focus on school and having fun with your friends.”

She eyes me like I’m crazy. “Why are you so obsessed with me getting good grades and going to university? I’d rather marry rich, like you.”

“I swear to God, Sofiya, if you?—”

“Take a pill, I’m kidding!” My sister snorts. “You know I’m practically top of my class, but there are other things in life.”

“Of course. But education is power. It”s independence, and I want you to have every advantage available in this world. What happens if your husband drops dead one day or your marriage falls apart? You need to be educated to support yourself and any children you might have.”

Sofiya looks thoughtful for a moment, before her mouth draws into an impish grin. “I’ll just make sure my side pieces are rich too.”

She cackles, and I can”t help but smile. My sister always jokes that I’m more of a parent than our actual parents are, which isn’t all that hard. Growing up, I was pretty much raised by the hired help while my parents jetted off to do whatever they wanted. When Sofiya was born, I vowed to give her the love and attention I never had. I”m the one who taught her how to tie her shoelaces and ride a bike. I know I can be overprotective, but it’s only because I want the best for her.

“What about you? You never finished university,” she points out.

Bitterness climbs my throat. “We couldn’t afford it. That’s why I want better for you. And I’ve continued to get an education on my own.” I gesture to the stack of business and investment books piled high on the desk beside my laptop.

What my sister doesn’t know—what no one knows—is that I’ve started day-trading stocks and bonds. I’m not playing with big bucks, just the few hundred dollars from my grandmother’s inheritance that I managed to hide from my parents. It’s this skill that I hope will one day grant me freedom.

“All done.” I step back so Sofiya can see herself in the mirror.

She beams, admiring her reflection, before she pulls me in for a quick hug.

“We better go down. Everyone will be here soon.”

“I need to take a selfie to send to my friends!” she exclaims. “I won’t be long.”

“Okay, sestra, see you down there.”

I don’t allow the smile to drop from my face until she’s gone from the room.