CHAPTER ONE
LIZA
The bruise under 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 his new public transportation plan was flawed.
I was simply 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 as he 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 only 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 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, skintight, 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 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 only 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 boys’ 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 facade I’ve maintained to the world, including her.