Twisted Pact (The Empire of Vows #2)

Chapter 1 Mila

Mila

Walking into Dmitri Kozlov’s wedding reception feels like volunteering for my own execution.

Every head turns as I step inside.

Six months isn’t long enough for anyone to forget my sister Irina showing up pregnant to her marriage negotiation—and killing the Kozlov deal.

I smooth my emerald silk dress and force myself to move. Papa saves this designer for high-stakes meetings. Tonight, I need the armor. To look like I belong, not like the youngest daughter who’s been branded damaged goods.

The ballroom overflows with Moscow’s criminal elite—designer suits and diamonds that could bankroll a nation. Women glitter like ornaments while their men seal deals over top-shelf vodka. This is the same world I ran from when I chose grad school over marriage.

Looking at it now, I know I was right. Once I finish my Ph.D., I’m gone for good.

But tonight, Papa insisted I come—said the Kozlovs needed to see that the Andreevas still know how to show respect.

My father appears at my side and kisses my cheek. “Stay close to me tonight, Mila.”

“I’m twenty-three, Papa. I can handle a wedding reception.”

“Can you?” His voice drops. “Because last time you were in a room with the Kozlovs, you walked away from an opportunity that could have saved this family.”

I bite back about a dozen responses. “Irina’s mistake wasn’t mine to fix.”

“Everything became your mistake the moment you refused to step in.” He walks away before I can respond, leaving me standing alone near the champagne fountain like a cautionary tale.

I grab a glass and down half in one gulp. The alcohol helps, but not enough. Maybe a few glasses will do the trick.

A waiter glides past with caviar. I take one to keep my hands busy. I’ve been to a hundred of these parties, but tonight is different. Tonight, I’m the girl who told Alexei Kozlov no.

“Look who showed her face.” My cousin Oksana materializes, her red lips curved in a smile that doesn’t fool me. “Surprised you had the nerve after everything that happened.”

“It’s a wedding, Oksana. Not a trial.”

She sips champagne, smirking at me over the rim. “Everyone’s talking. Poor Mila Andreeva, damaged goods who threw away the chance of a lifetime to play student instead of wife.”

I tighten my grip on the stem of my glass. “Still a student. Graduate program at Moscow State. International business.”

“How nice for you.” Her tone says she means the opposite. “While you buried yourself in books, the rest of us were making real connections. Building real futures.”

“You mean selling yourself for a ring.”

“Better than dying alone with a worthless degree.” She leans in, dropping her voice to a whisper. “You turned down Alexei Kozlov. Do you have any idea how many women would kill for that chance? He’s gorgeous. Powerful. And you thought you were too good for him.”

Something dangerous sparks in my chest. I stare her down, my civility gone. “I wasn’t too good for anyone. I wanted to finish my degree before I became a bargaining chip.”

“How noble.” Oksana’s gaze slides past me, and her smirk widens. “Speak of the devil. He’s right over there if you want to apologize for wasting his time.”

I follow her gaze and my heart forgets how to beat when I see him.

Alexei Kozlov stands at the bar amid a circle of suits that are hanging on his every word.

Six-two, broad-shouldered, with dark-blond hair cropped neat, and blue-gray eyes that drag the clothes off me even from across the room.

A black suit tailored to perfection and worn like he doesn’t give a damn.

Like he could strip it off and still own every room he walks into.

There’s a faint scar near his left ear that only makes him hotter. His hands cradle a tumbler of whiskey, and I remember them drumming the table six months ago, while my family imploded. Heat flares in my chest.

Damn it, I hate that I notice.

“He’s watching you,” Oksana teases, jolting me back to reality.

She’s right. Alexei’s eyes lock on mine across the room and don’t let go. Those stormy blues pin me, dragging me straight back to that restaurant six months ago.

One of the men beside him speaks, but Alexei doesn’t answer. Doesn’t look away. Just sips his whiskey slowly, making me bear the weight of his attention.

“Go talk to him.” Oksana nudges me. “Grovel enough, and maybe he’ll give you another chance.”

“I don’t grovel.”

“Then what do you do, Mila? Because from here, all I see is bad decisions that keep hurting our family.”

The champagne, humiliation, and six months of biting my tongue finally crack something inside me. I shove my empty glass at Oksana and storm toward Alexei Kozlov, my heels striking the marble with every furious step.

The men part like the Red Sea, and suddenly, I’m standing in front of him with no idea what to say.

“Mila Andreeva.” His voice is deeper than I remember, rough enough to spark heat low in my belly. “I wondered if you’d show tonight.”

“Why wouldn’t I? Your brother’s wedding is apparently the social event of the year.”

His mouth quirks. “And yet, you look like you’d rather be anywhere else. How’s grad school treating you?”

“How do you know about that?”

“I make it my business to know. Especially about a woman who walks away from me.”

His arrogance makes my blood boil. “I didn’t walk away from you. I walked away from an arranged marriage—to a man I’d never met—where I was the second choice.”

“You met me.” He spreads his arms like the proof is right there. “For most women, that’s enough.”

“I met you for five minutes while my sister broke down, and your brother looked ready to kill someone. I was staring at the disaster, not at you. Don’t flatter yourself.”

“I don’t need to flatter myself. Your body does it for me.” He smirks. “Like it is right now.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“Your pupils. The way your heart is racing in that pretty throat. Tell me, Mila. What were you so afraid of?”

I frown, glancing away. “I wasn’t afraid of anything.”

“Then why refuse?” His voice drops low. “Your family needed the alliance. I was willing. You said no, and I haven’t stopped thinking about it since.”

“Because I’m not cattle to be traded,” I snap through clenched teeth.

“No one said you were.”

“Didn’t you, though?” I lift my chin, meeting his eyes even as my heart slams against my ribs. “That’s all arranged marriages are—daughters traded like livestock to seal a contract.”

“Or partnerships that benefit everyone. You could’ve had everything, Mila. Protection. Power. A future. Instead, you let your family fall apart.”

His words knock the air from my lungs. “My family’s problems aren’t mine to fix.”

“No? Then whose are they?” He leans in, his breath hot against my ear. “Your sister wrecked the arrangement. Your father’s drowning in debt and enemies. And you’re hiding behind textbooks, pretending you’re untouchable.”

“I’m not hiding.” But it comes out breathless and unconvincing.

“Then what are you doing here, Mila? Because if you’re not hiding, you must be looking for something.” His mouth brushes the shell of my ear as he adds, “Or someone.”

Every nerve sparks to life. I should step back. Tell him to go to hell. Do anything but stand here and let him unravel me like this.

“You’re an arrogant bastard.”

“And you’re a coward.” He pulls back just enough to pin me with those blue-gray eyes. “You ran six months ago. You’ve been running ever since. The only question is whether it’s from me, or from what I make you feel.”

Scorching heat races up the back of my neck. “I don’t feel anything.”

“Liar.” His gaze drops to my chest, to the rise and fall that gives me away. “Your body’s already answering for you.”

“You don’t know anything about what my body wants.”

He reaches out and traces one finger along my collarbone, so light that I might have imagined it. “I think you wanted me six months ago, and you want me now. I think that terrifies you more than any arranged marriage ever could.”

I slap his hand away harder than I mean to. “You think very highly of yourself.”

He smirks. “Maybe. Or maybe I’m right.”

We’re standing so close now that anyone watching can see exactly what’s happening between us. But the ballroom blurs until it’s only him.

“This is what I was afraid of,” I admit before I can stop myself. “This… whatever this is.”

“Chemistry. Attraction. Inevitability.” He tucks a strand of hair behind my ear, and the intimacy of the gesture steals my breath. “You felt it six months ago, and you ran. Are you going to run again, little bunny? Or are you finally brave enough to stay and see what happens?”

I cock my head and ask, “Did you just call me a bunny?”

“Zaika.” He says in Russian, and the word sounds different in his mouth. Darker. Dangerous. “Because that’s what you are. A scared little rabbit who bolts at the first sign of a predator.”

“I’m not scared of you.”

“Then prove it. Stay. Talk to me. Show me you’re more than just another frightened girl playing dress-up.”

Every instinct I have screams at me to walk away. To prove him wrong by refusing to engage. But my temper has other ideas.

“You want to know why I said no six months ago? It wasn’t fear. It was self-preservation. I took one look at you and knew what kind of man you are.”

“And what kind is that?”

“The kind who thinks he owns everything he touches. The kind who would consume me whole and call it protection.” I turn on my heel, needing distance before I do something stupid. “Stay away from me, Alexei.”

“Where’s the fun in that, Zaika?”

His voice follows me across the ballroom, and I feel his gaze burning into my back with every step. I grab another glass of champagne from a passing waiter and down it in three gulps. Try to pretend my body isn’t humming with frustrated desire.

Damn him.

Damn him for making me feel anything at all.

And damn me for wanting him anyway.