Chapter 4 - Sofia
I trace my fingers along the worn pages of my favorite novel, losing myself in the familiar words. The library’s silence wraps around me like a comforting blanket, allowing my mind to wander far from everyday responsibilities.
The creak of the heavy oak door shatters my peace. My shoulders tense instinctively as I watch Nikolai and Dima enter with hesitant footsteps. Guilt is etched across their faces.
My eyes narrow. "Surely, you haven't come to join me in literary pursuits."
Nikolai clears his throat, exchanging a nervous glance with Dima. The pit in my stomach grows. Whatever they've come to tell me, it can't be good.
With a decisive snap, I close my book and fix them with an icy stare. "Out with it," I demand, arching an eyebrow. "What have you done now that requires my intervention?"
Dima shifts his weight from foot to foot, looking everywhere but at me. "Sofia, we… there's something we need to discuss."
I lean back in my chair, crossing my arms. "I'm listening," I say, my voice deceptively calm. "Though I have a feeling I'm not going to like what I hear."
Nikolai and Dima exchange another nervous glance, and I feel my patience wearing thin. “It’s okay. Take your time. We’ve got an entire lifetime to waste.”
Finally, Nikolai takes a deep breath and speaks.
"Sofia, we've… arranged a marriage for you.”
“You’ve done WHAT?” I scream, jumping up so fast that the chair rattles behind me, the sound echoing my fury. My brothers’ faces swim in and out of focus as my mind struggles to comprehend what they just said.
They both look startled, offering no more information.
"Now, what the hell were you saying about an arranged marriage?" I demand, my voice as cold as a Siberian winter. My hands clench into fists at my sides, nails digging into my palms.
Nikolai recovers first, his face smoothing into a placating expression. "Sofia, please, let us explain—"
"Explain?" I spit the word out like poison. "Explain how you're selling me off like cattle to the highest bidder?"
My chest heaves as I glare at them, daring them to justify this betrayal.
The library suddenly feels claustrophobic, closing in around me. I fight the urge to flee, to escape this nightmare.
"It's not like that," Dima interjects, his tone gentle. "This union is strategically important for our family's interests."
A harsh laugh escapes me. "Oh, of course. How silly of me to forget that my happiness is irrelevant compared to a good business deal."
Nikolai stands, his imposing frame tensed. "Sofia, be reasonable. Vladimir Zolotov is a powerful ally. This marriage will secure our position and keep us safe."
For a moment, I'm certain I've misheard. My eyes widen, and I feel the blood drain from my face. Vladimir Zolotov? The man who had his eye on me the whole time during our party? He’s handsome, sure. But he’s also a decade older than me! And I can’t forget that he’s a Zolotov. As the reality of their words sinks in, white-hot fury gives in to shock.
"You’re joking, right?" I hiss, my voice low and dangerous. My fingers dig into the arms of my chair as I struggle to maintain my composure.
"It's for the good of the family," Dima interjects weakly. "The alliance will strengthen our position—we’re still weaker than we’d like to be."
"The good of the family?" I spit out, my control finally snapping. I stand abruptly, my chair scraping against the floor with a harsh screech. "And what about my good? Did that even cross your minds for a second?"
I advance on them, my green eyes flashing with rage. "You had no right to make this decision for me. I'm not some pawn to be traded!"
"Sofia, please," Nikolai pleads, holding up his hands in a placating gesture. "If you'd just listen—"
"Listen?" I laugh, the sound bitter and cold. "I think I've heard quite enough. You've made it abundantly clear where your priorities lie, and it's certainly not with my happiness or autonomy."
I'm trembling now, a mix of anger and disbelief coursing through my veins. How dare they? After everything I've done for this family, all the sacrifices I've made, this is how they repay me?
"I won't do it," I declare, my voice steely with determination. "Find another way to secure your precious alliance. I refuse to be sold off like chattel to a man I barely know."
With that, I turn on my heel and stride toward the door, my head held high. I may be trapped in this world of power and politics, but I'll be damned if I let them strip away my autonomy without a fight.
As I reach for the doorknob, Nikolai's voice stops me. "Sofia, please. At least meet with Vladimir. Give him a chance."
I pause, my hand hovering over the cold metal. Part of me wants to refuse outright, to slam the door and never look back. But the dutiful sister in me, the one who's always put family first, hesitates.
Without turning around, I say, "Fine. One meeting. But don't expect me to play nice."
I yank the door open and step out, leaving my brothers to deal with the aftermath of their decisions. How could they do this to me? My own brothers, treating me like a bargaining chip.
As I reach my room, I slam the door shut, leaning against it and closing my eyes. The absurdity of the situation hits me, and I let out a humorless laugh. An arranged marriage. To Vladimir Zolotov, of all people.
His face comes to my mind. Those broad shoulders, that intense gaze. Sure, he got my heart racing. But I’ve had plenty of men do that, and I never given them the time of day.
He’s also a recluse. Arrogant. And a Zolotov.
My brothers are fools if they think I'll simply acquiesce to their plans. They may be stubborn, but they've clearly forgotten how unyielding I can be. I push off the door, pacing my room as my mind races.
No, I won't let them dictate my future. My brothers may think they've won this round, but they've forgotten one crucial fact: I'm Sofia Orlov, and I’ll find a way to make sure Vladimir Zolotov refuses to marry me.
I have to convince Vladimir it's a bad idea. And there's only one way to ensure that happens.
I snatch my phone from the nightstand, my fingers flying over the keys as I compose a message. "Mr. Zolotov, I believe we have a matter to discuss. Meet me at Noir tomorrow at 2 PM—Sofia Orlov"
***
I stride into the restaurant, my heels clicking against the polished marble floor. The ma?tre d' recognizes me instantly, his eyes widening as he hurries to escort me to the reserved table.
"This way, Miss Orlov," he murmurs, leading me through the dimly lit dining room. “Your party is already here.”
My heart begins to race at the thought of seeing Vladimir. I was hoping I’d reach first and have enough time to settle my nerves.
We’re almost at the table when the crowd parts, revealing Vladimir looking straight in my direction. His broad shoulders and muscular frame cut an imposing figure, his black eyes locked onto mine with an intensity that sends an involuntary shiver down my spine. I pause, ever so briefly, as time seems to stand still. I find myself reaching for a strand of hair, tucking it behind my ear.
Shit. I can’t let him see me rattled.
I put on a mask of cool indifference and reach for my chair, sitting before he can even stand to greet me. I ignore him, needing to stay in control, and look at the ma?tre d’. “A chianti, please.”
I turn to find Vladimir staring at me, his black eyes peering into mine. I sit up, posture rigid and straight. He breaks into the most charming smile, setting my heart to race, but I force my face to remain impassive. I won't give Vladimir Zolotov the satisfaction of seeing me nervous.
“Sofia,” he says at last. “I’m so glad you could make it.”
I hesitate for a moment, my pride warring with social niceties. Finally, I convince myself to stick to the plan.
"Let's skip the pleasantries," I say, my tone sharp. "I'm here to discuss this… arrangement."
Vladimir's lips quirk into the barest hint of a smile, and I can't help but feel he's enjoying this far too much. As he motions at me to continue speaking, I resist the urge to fidget under his scrutiny.
I take a deep breath, steeling myself for the confrontation. "This marriage is a terrible idea," I begin, my words clipped and precise. "Surely, a man of your… standing understands the value of freedom and independence."
Vladimir remains silent, that infuriating smirk still playing on his lips. I press on, my voice dripping with sarcasm. "Or perhaps you're so eager to shackle yourself to a stranger that you've forgotten the joys of autonomy?"
I pause, expecting him to interject, but he merely raises an eyebrow, his gaze never leaving mine. The intensity of his stare is unnerving, but I refuse to be cowed.
"We're living in the 21st century," I continue, my tone growing increasingly sardonic. "Arranged marriages are relics of the past. Surely, we can find a more… civilized way to strengthen our families' ties? My brothers are half-wits, you know? You don’t have to listen to their foolish ideas. Besides, our ties are strong already. Dima is married to your sister, who we love very much. Surely, we don’t need another marriage. I simply don’t know what they were thinking."
Vladimir leans back in his chair, his posture relaxed, but his eyes still burning with that unsettling intensity. "Are you quite finished?" he asks, his voice low and measured.
I blink, thrown off by his calm demeanor. "I—"
"Because," he continues, cutting me off, "I believe there's something you should know."
My eyes narrow suspiciously. "And what might that be?"
Vladimir's smirk widens into a full-blown smile, sending another involuntary shiver down my spine. "This marriage," he says slowly, savoring each word, "was my idea."
My carefully constructed arguments crumble in an instant, my eyes widening in shock. "What?" I manage to choke out, my entire plan shattering.
"The marriage," he continues, his gaze unwavering. "I proposed it to your brothers."
My mind reels, struggling to process this unexpected twist. I feel my cheeks flush with a mix of anger and embarrassment, my carefully prepared arguments crumbling around me.
Rage flares within me, hot and all-consuming. My hands clench into fists under the table as I lean forward, my voice rising with each word. “You orchestrated this whole charade, didn’t you? Is that why you were bothering me at that party?”
“I wasn’t aware that I was bothering you.” He tries to hold back a smile, which infuriates me even more.
"What's your endgame here, Zolotov? Power? Money? Or is this just some sick game to you?" I spit the words at him, no longer caring about the scandalized looks from nearby diners.
He leans in, matching my posture, his voice low and controlled. "If you'd calm down for a moment, Sofia, I could explain—"
"Calm down?" I interrupt, my laugh bitter and sharp. "You've just admitted to manipulating my brothers—my family—and you expect me to be calm?"
His eyes darken, and a mixture of anger and concern passes over his face, the first crack in his composed facade. "This union benefits both our families. If you'd listen—"
But I'm too incensed to hear reason. My mind races with the implications, the betrayal cutting deep. "I won't be a pawn in whatever your end game is, Vladimir. I refuse to—"
"It's not about power," he interjects, his voice gaining an edge. "It's about protection."
I scoff, crossing my arms. "Protection? From what, exactly?"
Vladimir's gaze sweeps the restaurant before settling back on me. "There are forces at work that you don't understand, Sofia. This marriage ensures your safety, your family's safety, and mine."
His words should give me pause, but my anger blinds me to any logic. "I can protect myself," I hiss, even as a small part of me wonders what threats he could be alluding to.
“I’m sure you can,” he says. “But you do have to marry eventually, don’t you? Better me than some loser who might bring you down and cut out your family.”
I push my chair back abruptly, the harsh scrape of wood against marble echoing through the restaurant. My hands tremble with barely contained rage as I stand, towering over Vladimir in my heels. “How dare you? You’re making judgments without even knowing me. Do you think I’d ever choose to marry someone who wants anything less than the best for me and my family?”
“Do you think anyone has better-vested interests than me? My sister is married to your brother, god damn it. I care more about the Orlov security than you know!” he argues back, rendering me speechless for just a moment.
With emotions boiling over, the tension crackles in the air between us. I search his eyes for any sign of falsehood, but all I find is unwavering determination. My anger slowly begins to ebb, replaced by a gnawing uncertainty. Could there be truth in his words?
I take a step back, my resolve wavering as conflicting thoughts swirl in my mind. Vladimir watches me closely, his own features betraying nothing but sincerity.
Or, he could be playing us all. The cynic in me wins.
"You know what, Vladimir?" I snarl. "You can take your protection and your manipulations and shove them where the sun doesn't shine.”
I grab my bag, prepared to walk out, only to find him reaching out and holding my wrist. I turn to see him looking up at me with such concern that it bothers me.
“Sofia, please,” he says, releasing my hand now that he has my attention. I caress my skin, which still tingles from his touch. “Just think about what I said. If you want a marriage that puts you and your family first, I might just be the best bet.”
My breath catches in my throat at his unexpected plea, my anger momentarily overshadowed by the vulnerability in his eyes. For a man reputed for his unyielding strength and authority, there is an almost desperate edge to his tone that I can't ignore.
I pull away from him, my expression guarded as I study his face. "I don't trust you, Vladimir," I admit, my voice softer now, edged with resignation. “But I always put family first.”
And then, I walk out.
***
I step out of the restaurant. My breath comes in short, angry bursts, and I lean against the cool brick of the building, trying to regain my composure. The quiet of the street does nothing to calm my nerves after our heated encounter.
I simply don’t know what happened in there. I went in adamant on breaking this charade off. How the hell did I exit agreeing to this marriage?
For family, I tell myself. As the adrenaline fades, a horrifying realization crashes over me. This arranged marriage… it could ruin everything.
My family's safety depends on me infiltrating the gangsters threatening us. For months, I’ve been studying threats against us, and there’s a rising group wanting to cut us down. The secret mission I've been meticulously planning for months now seems to be hanging by a thread. How can I possibly infiltrate the gang when I'm to be married to a Zolotov?
I can’t exactly abandon my mission to make this threat go away. Going to my brothers isn’t an option. They’d resort to violence and escalate the whole thing. But, by befriending them, I could convince the gang to let their vengeance slide.
I close my eyes and take a deep breath.
"Think, Sofia," I mutter to myself. "There has to be a way to make this work."
Perhaps this marriage doesn’t have to change anything. I’ll play the dutiful wife by day and continue my work while Vladimir is away.
A plan begins to form in my mind, pieces falling into place like a complex puzzle. Vladimir may think he's won, but he has no idea who he's dealing with. I allow a small, sardonic smile to curve my lips.
"Two can play at this game, Mr. Zolotov," I murmur, my fingertips tracing the spot the sensation of his hand still lingers on. "You want a wife? I'll give you one. But on my terms."