Chapter 6 - Sofia
I bid goodbye to the last of my family and scan the dwindling wedding reception, nerves twisting my stomach into knots. Married. To Vladimir Zolotov. I toy with the heavy diamond on my finger, my eyes drifting to Vladimir across the living room, his commanding presence drawing attention even as he bids goodbye to a group of men.
My heart flutters traitorously, and I clench my jaw, willing myself to regain control.
"Get it together, Sofia," I mutter under my breath. "This changes nothing."
But even as I try to convince myself, the memory of our near-kiss earlier on the dance floor sends a shiver down my spine. I can still feel the ghost of his breath on my lips, the intensity in his dark eyes…
But it can never happen again. He might have got his way with this wedding, but that doesn’t mean I’m prepared to give him a marriage.
"There's the blushing bride!" A booming voice snaps me out of my reverie, and I turn to see Vladimir's younger brother, Denis, approaching with a grin, alongside Lara, both carrying fresh drinks.
I force a smile, grateful for the distraction. "Denis, Lara. Enjoying the party?”
Lara raises an eyebrow. "The question is, are you? You look like you're plotting an escape."
My sister-in-law’s perceptiveness unnerves me, but I maintain my cool demeanor. "Just taking a moment to breathe. It's been quite a day."
Denis chuckles. "Wait until you see what the rest of your life’s going to be like. Our brother may be a man of few words, but he's full of surprises."
My pulse quickens. “Oh?” I ask, curious to know if I can learn more about my husband and, by extension, the Zolotovs. “Why? Does Vladimir live an exciting life?”
"Now, now," Lara interjects, shooting Denis a warning look. "Stop scaring her. Though I will say, Sofia, it’s going to be a wild ride."
I file away that nugget of information, determined to use every scrap of knowledge to my advantage. "The Zolotovs seem fond of secrets," I remark, keeping my tone light, wishing they’d tell me more about Vladimir.
Denis’s eyes narrow slightly. "Family trait, I suppose. But you're one of us now, aren't you?"
Before I can respond, I feel a presence at my back, a warm hand settling on my waist. Vladimir's deep voice rumbles near my ear. "Trying to corrupt my wife already?"
I stiffen instinctively but force myself to relax into his touch. It's all part of the act, I remind myself.
Lara laughs. "We wouldn't dream of it, Brother. Just welcoming Sofia properly."
I turn slightly, meeting Vladimir's intense gaze. His eyes search mine, and for a moment, I wonder if he can see through my carefully constructed facade.
"Well," I say, injecting a hint of playfulness into my voice, "I suppose I'll have plenty of time to unravel the Zolotov mysteries, won't I?"
Vladimir's lip quirks in the barest hint of a smile. "Indeed you will, my angel."
The endearment, 'my angel,' sends an unexpected warmth through me. I push it aside, focusing instead on taking a step away from him. This marriage may be a means to an end, but I refuse to lose sight of my true purpose.
As Vladimir's siblings launch into a debate about the merits of various honeymoon destinations, I allow myself to observe my new husband. Abram and Mark join in, too.
“It’s our last drink of the night, and then, we’re out of here,” Abram tells me. Mark gives me a wink in solidarity.
I watch Vladimir’s quiet strength, the way his family gravitates around him—it's clear why he commands such respect in their world.
Lara sidles up to me, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "So, sister dear, ready for your first Zolotov family brunch, whenever it happens? It's quite the event."
I arch an eyebrow, my guard still firmly in place. "Oh? And what should I expect? Bear wrestling? Vodka chugging contests?"
The siblings burst into laughter, and I feel Vladimir's chest rumble against my back. It's… not an unpleasant sensation.
"Nothing so barbaric," Lara chimes in, grinning. "Though I wouldn't put it past Mark after a few drinks."
"Hey!" Mark protests, but there's no heat in it.
I observe their easy banter, a pang of longing hitting me unexpectedly. I suddenly miss my own family, realizing how Vladimir’s is just the same. Together, there’s no shop talk. It’s plain old fun.
"You'll fit right in, Sofia," Lara says, squeezing my arm. "Just bring your wit and maybe some aspirin for the inevitable hangover."
As their laughter fades and goodbyes are exchanged, a heavy silence falls between Vladimir and me. Suddenly, I realize we’re all alone in his house.
It’s late. It’s time for bed.
And my knees nearly buck over with nerves.
I turn around slowly to find Vladimir watching me with a small smile on his lips. This, I realize, is my husband. And from now on, I will be living with him.
Shit. The idea of sharing a bedroom with a man I hardly know constricts my chest. I square my shoulders, deciding to set some boundaries before the night progresses any further.
My heart races, but I refuse to let it show.
"Vladimir," I begin, my voice steady despite my inner turmoil. "We need to discuss the terms of our… arrangement."
Vladimir's eyebrow ticks up slightly, but he remains silent, waiting for me to continue. His stillness is unnerving, but I press on.
"First, I maintain my independence. I come and go as I please, no questions asked. Second, separate bedrooms. This is a marriage of convenience, nothing more. And third, I expect to be involved in any decisions that affect my life or my family's."
I hold his gaze, refusing to flinch under the weight of his scrutiny. For a moment, tension crackles between us, and I brace myself for an argument.
To my surprise, Vladimir's lips quirk into what might almost be a smile. "Agreed," he says simply.
I blink, thrown off balance. "Just like that?"
He shrugs, his broad shoulders shifting under his tailored suit. "Your terms are reasonable. I have no desire to cage you, Sofia. But understand this—your safety is non-negotiable. If I believe you're in danger, I will act."
His words send an unexpected shiver down my spine. I nod, processing this unexpected turn of events. "Fair enough," I concede.
As the implications of our agreement settle over me, I feel a weight lift from my shoulders. Perhaps this arrangement won't be the prison sentence I'd feared. I allow myself a small smile, meeting Vladimir's intense gaze.
"Well then, Husband," I say, a hint of my usual sarcasm creeping back into my voice, "shall we toast to our unconventional union?"
Vladimir's eyes gleam with something I can't quite decipher. "Indeed we shall, Wife," he rumbles, reaching for two abandoned champagne flutes.
As we clink glasses, I find myself reevaluating my new husband. He's still an enigma, dangerous and unpredictable. But perhaps, just perhaps, there's room for me to carve out a life of my own within the confines of this marriage. It's a small spark of hope, fragile but undeniably present.
I sip my champagne, my mind already racing with possibilities. This is just the beginning, I realize. The real challenge lies ahead—navigating the treacherous waters of the Zolotov family while keeping my own secrets safe. They, and my own brothers, must never find out what I’m up to with the gangsters plotting to bring the Orlovs down. But for now, I allow myself this moment of cautious optimism.
***
My heart pounds as I slip out the back door of the Zolotov mansion, the cool night air kissing my skin. It's been three days since my wedding, and Vladimir's absence tonight presents the perfect opportunity. I’ve observed his hours over the past few days. He leaves for work early and returns late. There’s no reason I’d get caught tonight. I simply have to be back around midnight. I straighten my designer dress and slide into the waiting taxi, giving the driver the address to the nightclub.
As the city lights blur past, I run through my mental checklist. My cover story is airtight, my nerves steel-clad.
The pulsing beat of Club Rivera greets me as I step out onto the sidewalk. I take a deep breath and enter.
Inside, the air is thick with smoke and pheromones. I scan the VIP section, my gaze landing on my target—Alexei Volkov, a street thug known for his loose lips after a few drinks. He also runs odd jobs on the Crimson Crew, the gang I’m spying on.
I hike up my dress just a little and saunter over, all calculated grace and practiced charm. "This seat taken?" I purr, gesturing to the empty space beside him.
Alexei's eyes rake over me appreciatively. "For you, Kira? Never."
I settle in, flashing him a coy smile. "Don’t you look like a man who knows how to show a girl a good time."
He chuckles, signaling for the waiter. "You have no idea, Kira. Tell me, what are you drinking tonight?"
I lean in, lowering my voice conspiratorially. "Whatever a guy like you wants to treat a girl like me to."
Alexei's grin widens. "A girl like you deserves the best." He slides a hand up my thigh. Instinctively, I tense up. But I can’t let my discomfort show through. He needs to think I’m harmless, and I need him to want to impress me. Only then can I get information out on the Crimson Crew.
So, instead, I laugh and pull back. “Now,” I say, flicking my hair over my shoulder. “What about that drink?”
“A bottle of your finest champagne,” he orders from the waiter, his eyes glued completely on me.
Our drinks arrive, and I lean in closer, our faces mere inches apart. “So,” I bite my lower lip. “Tell me if you did something bad this weekend.”
“Well, I don’t mean to brag.” He flexes his muscles, as expected, slurring a little. “But we did steal a shipment this week.”
“Oh really?” I look impressed, eyes-widening. “From that…Oltov group?”
“The Orlovs, yeah.” He nods enthusiastically.
What an idiot. He’s lapping it all up and giving me all I need.
“What about you?” he asks, leaning in closer with a glint in his eye and downing his drink. “You got any plans after?”
I laugh, a tinkling sound that belies the intensity of my focus. "Oh, maybe," I breathe, my fingers tracing patterns on his arm. "But first, why don't you tell me about that other shipment coming in next week? I hear it's quite… valuable."
Alexei's hand once again slides onto my thigh, his touch making my skin crawl beneath the silky fabric of my dress. His hand glides up higher, and I force myself to remain still, my smile unwavering as I lean in closer, feigning interest.
"Ah, you're a curious little thing, aren't you?" he slurs, his breath hot against my ear. "That shipment… it's big. Bigger than you can imagine. But I shouldn't say more."
His fingers creep higher, and I fight the urge to recoil. My heart races, but I keep my voice steady. "Oh, come on," I tease, trailing a finger down his chest. "Surely you can tell me a little more. I can keep a secret."
Alexei's grip tightens, and I realize I've pushed too far. His eyes narrow suspiciously. “Why do you care? Let’s just have some fun, Sweetheart.”
I laugh, the sound brittle even to my own ears. "Of course we’re having fun. I just find you… intriguing," I lie, desperately searching for an escape route.
Just then, he slides his hand around my waist, pulling me closer, nearly onto his lap. I quickly push him away and stand. Immediately, I note the anger in his eyes.
Fuck.
“I just need to use the washroom,” I smile and giggle, stepping away from him just a little. “I’ll be right back.”
I walk away, ready to bolt. He’s so drunk, I could just tell him I said goodbye and he won’t even remember the half of it. I think I’ve got all I could out of him tonight, and from this point on, I need to focus on making sure he keeps his hands away from me.
I turn the corner and pull out my phone, ready to book a cab, when my eyes lock on a familiar, imposing figure across the room. Vladimir. His presence hits me like a physical blow, dark eyes blazing with fury as they zero in on me. The crowd seems to part before him as he strides forward, radiating barely contained rage.
My breath catches in my throat. How did he find me? What have I done?
As Vladimir approaches, his jaw clenched and fists balled at his sides, I feel a chill of genuine fear—not of him, exactly, but of the consequences of my deception. For the first time since this marriage began, I realize I may have severely underestimated my new husband.