Chapter 1
CHAPTER
ONE
Present Day
SOFIYA
There’s a knock at the door, and I hurry to answer, knowing it’s my sister, Liza. Before I can get a word out, she wraps me in a hug, squeezing me like her life depends on it.
I pull back with a laugh. “You’re acting like we’ve been separated for months. I saw you and Roman last week for dinner.”
“Well, it feels like longer,” she pouts, stepping into my apartment. The apartment she and her husband, Roman Vasiliev, pay for to ensure I live somewhere with top-notch security in one of Moscow’s safest neighborhoods. With Roman being one of the heads of the Belov Syndicate, it’s a necessity, not a luxury. Same goes for the ever-present bodyguard, something I resent but understand. “You’ve been so busy getting ready for the final recital that I almost considered enrolling in your classes just to spend time with you.”
“I’d love to see you dancing barynya in Madame Orlova’s folk dancing class,” I snort.
“Folk dancing, seriously?”
“It was an elective. I don’t know why I thought it was a good idea.” I shrug.
Liza presents me with an overflowing bouquet of flowers.
“These are gorgeous,” I say, taking them from her. “Thank you. Let me get some water for these.” I lead her into the kitchen.
For the last four years, I’ve attended Moscow’s premier performing arts college, pouring everything I have into the contemporary dance program. This is my final week before graduation, and I’ve been laser-focused on the recital, where I’ll be performing the night’s closing solo—a piece I choreographed myself. It’s an honor to end the show, but it’s also nerve-wracking as hell.
Still, I’m more excited about what comes next. I plan to move to Berlin to launch my dance career. Not only is it one of the best cities for live performance, but it’s far from Moscow. Here, I’ll always be Roman Vasiliev’s sister-in-law, tied to the powerful Syndicate.
Moving to Berlin is my chance to make a name for myself on my own merits. I’ve avoided telling Liza my plans since I know she’ll be upset I’m relocating so far away. A wave of guilt washes over me as I imagine her reaction, but there’s no more time to wait.
“Where do you keep your vases?” Liza asks, rummaging through the cupboard.
I laugh and pull out an old spaghetti jar. “This will have to do. I don’t own anything else.”
“You don’t own a vase? Seriously? What kind of adult are you?” she teases, rinsing the jar and filling it with water.
“One who likes her independence,” I quip. “Roman and you spoil me enough. I don’t need anything else.”
“Guess I know what I’m getting you for Christmas,” she says, arranging the flowers and setting them on the table.
In the sunlight, Liza looks as stunning as ever. Her dark auburn hair, nearly identical to mine, falls in soft waves, framing her delicate face.
People always say we look alike, and they’re not wrong. We have the same full lips, high cheekbones, and tall frames. But where Liza is willowy, I’m curvier, my body strong from years of training. My hazel eyes, flecked with green, also set us apart.
“These flowers are beautiful. Thank you again,” I say, smelling the bouquet of lilies and peonies. “You really didn’t have to.”
Liza curls into a chair, tucking her feet underneath her. “Roman and I feel terrible we can’t make it to your recital. If I could move the appointment, I would.”
After everything we went through five years ago—being abducted and nearly forced into marriage—Liza has finally found her happiness. Six months after we were rescued, she and Roman married, and years later, they’re still blissfully in love. Recently, she earned a degree in finance and is working as an analyst for one of the Syndicate’s legitimate businesses.
The only cloud hanging over them is their struggle to get pregnant. For two years, they’ve tried without success. I know how much it’s weighed on them—Liza especially. After a long wait, they’ve finally secured an appointment with one of the world’s top fertility specialists in New York City. It means she’ll miss my recital, but there’s no way I’d let her cancel.
“Don’t worry about it for a second,” I say, waving off her guilt as I pour us each a cup of tea. “This appointment is way more important. The recital’s being filmed, and I’ll make sure you get a copy.”
I can’t deny a small part of me feels relieved. Liza and Roman never go anywhere without their full security detail, and the last thing I need is to draw more attention to my Syndicate ties. It’s bad enough hearing whispers from classmates who think I only got the solo because of my connection to the Belov Syndicate.
They’re wrong. I’ve worked my ass off for this, clawed my way through sleepless nights, injuries, and grueling practices to earn that solo. But even so, a part of me still feels like I have to prove myself.
I’ve spent enough time in therapy to know why. When your own parents treat you like a pawn, a bargaining chip, it leaves scars. If they couldn’t see my worth, what does that say about me?
Liza smiles softly, but guilt flickers in her eyes. “I hate that you won’t have any family at the concert.”
“It’s fine. I’ll have Daria and Alex,” I reassure her. They are my two best friends at school, and we’ve been inseparable for the past four years. “Seriously, I want this baby for you and Roman almost as much as you do. If this doctor can help, you need to go. You’re going to be an amazing mom—the polar opposite of ours.”
Liza’s mouth twists into a grimace, and I immediately regret my words. Mentioning our parents is always a delicate subject. Eight years older than me, she still carries guilt over the fact that she couldn’t protect me when our parents sold me off to Sergey to cover my father’s mounting debts. None of it was her fault, but guilt doesn’t play by logic.
She recovers quickly, her expression softening. “God, I hope so. Do you remember that summer when our parents ditched us for France? At least the au pair they left us with didn’t care what we did.”
“It was the best,” I say, my thoughts drifting back. “Don’t you remember? We camped out in the backyard, sleeping under the stars, and we lived off junk food in the pantry. I’m pretty sure I didn’t wear shoes that entire summer. It was heaven.”
“Some of my best memories,” she agrees, a soft smile touching her lips. She takes a sip of her tea before her gaze settles back on me. “So, how are you feeling about graduating? You’ll be taking the Moscow dance world by storm soon.”
I swallow hard. It’s time to tell her my plan to move. I know she pictures her future kids growing up with their “cool aunt” close by, and she imagines a big, tight-knit family with me as an important part of it. Telling her I’m leaving the country feels like ripping that dream apart, especially with everything she’s doing to have a baby. But I have to do this for myself.
“A little nervous, but good,” I say, keeping my hands busy, stirring sugar into my tea. “I need to tell you something, but first, you need to know I’m okay. I really am.”
Her eyebrows pull together. “Of course you are. You’ve come so far. Roman and I are so proud of you.”
Her words hit me harder than I’d expected, and I don’t know how to respond. “Thank you,” I say, my voice thick. “You don’t know what that means to me. I felt so ashamed for so long because of… everything.”
After Liza and I were rescued from Greece, I was like a ghost for a year, wandering Roman’s penthouse, numb and detached from the world. I didn’t return to school; instead, I took the high school equivalency test and avoided everyone from my old life. All my friends still lived in their bubble of privilege with their loving parents, and I knew I could never go back to being the person I was before my world was turned upside down.
In my darkest moment, I didn’t think I’d ever find happiness again. Ten sleeping pills and a pint of vodka later, I woke up with my stomach pumped and a crushing headache. Killing myself was never my intention—I only wanted to numb the pain. It was my lowest point, but it became a turning point. Waking up to Liza’s tear-streaked face and Roman’s terrified expression, I knew I had to make a change. Finding something I love—dancing—has been a huge part of that.
Liza places a hand on my knee, giving a gentle squeeze. “I wish you didn’t feel that way.”
“I don’t so much anymore,” I assure her. “But I’m ready for a change. Which is why…” I take a breath. “I’ve decided to move to Berlin after I graduate.”
Her face falls. “You’re leaving Moscow?”
“I am.”
She swallows, working to keep her emotions in check. “Why? I thought you were happy with your life.”
I shake my head. “I am. It’s just… I haven’t found my place yet. Lizka, I need this. A fresh start somewhere new.”
Liza’s expression tightens as she blinks back tears. “Of course, I want you to be happy. You’re a grown woman who can make her own choices. But are you sure moving to a city where you don’t know anyone is the right call?”
“I like the idea of starting over where no one knows me. No whispers about who I am or the family I’m tied to.”
“I get it. Living under the shadow of the Syndicate is… a lot.”
“That’s not why I’m moving,” I promise. “But Berlin isn’t that far. And you’re married to a man who owns a jet, remember?”
Liza laughs, even as a tear slides down her face. She wipes it away quickly. “Not gonna lie, I need a moment to wrap my head around this. But you’ve worked your ass off to get where you are, to leave the mess of our past behind. If this is what you want, I’m here for it. Promise me you’ll take care of yourself.”
I nod, squeezing her hand. “I will.”
“And maybe you’ll meet a hot German dancer and, I don’t know, pirouette into the sunset or something.” She winks.
Groaning, I cover my face. “That is so wrong on so many levels.”
“Oh, come on. You’re single and deserve to have some fun. Play the field.” She holds up a hand. “Safely, of course.”
“Not easy with a bodyguard watching my every move.”
Her mouth curls at the corners. “Are your guards cramping your style?”
“I mean, they would if there was someone I was into.”
The truth is, I’m not sure what I want from a relationship. I’m not even convinced there’s a man out there for me.
Except… in the dark of night, when I’m alone, one man invades my fantasies: Nikolai Zhukov.
It’s messed up, and I’d never admit to my sister that I think of him like that. I haven’t seen Nikolai since the night he saved me from Anatoly’s goons. There was no need to annul our marriage because, according to the lawyers, it was never legal in the first place.
Nikolai may have been part of my rescue, but I know he’s no hero. From what I’ve overheard between Liza and Roman, the Zhukov Bratva controls all of St. Petersburg. He’s a hard, dangerous man, and yet…
Something must have snapped in my brain that day. I was young, terrified out of my mind, and he protected me—saved me from what would have been the worst experience of my life, hands down. So maybe it’s a savior complex that I’ve somehow twisted into some kind of misplaced desire.
I haven’t even told my therapist about these fantasies. Not because she’d judge me but because some things are better left buried in the past.
“Maybe you can have a signal with your guards to get lost when you want to get laid.”
“Huh!” My cheeks redden, having been lost in thoughts of Nikolai.
“Calm down. I’m kidding.” Liza laughs, her voice light.
I shake my head. “I am officially horrified by this conversation. And for the record, there’s no way any of them would leave me alone with a stranger.”
Liza sighs dramatically, tipping her head back against the chair. “True, but if he were a guy you were seeing, not a stranger, that would be different. Assuming he passed the rigorous background check required by?—”
I toss a dish towel at her. “Please stop talking!”
She laughs and tosses it back, her expression softening. “Kidding! Kind of. You know I only want you to be safe. But I get it. Maybe getting out of the city will help. And if Berlin gives you a shot at a normal life, well… I’ll try to be happy for you.”
Grinning, I lean over and hug her tightly. “Thanks. And just think, Berlin has amazing shopping. And their Christmas market is legendary.”
Her face falls. “But you’ll come home for Christmas, right?”
Christmas has always been something we celebrated together. Staying up late with hot chocolate and bad movies, decorating a lopsided tree, and sneaking bites of cookie dough before baking. It started because our parents were too wrapped up in their own lives to bother with us during the holidays, but Liza stepped up and made it special.
“I’ll definitely try,” I promise. Silence stretches between us as my mind drifts to the past. “Do you ever think about them? About our parents?” The question tastes bitter, but I have to ask. Roman exiled them to some godforsaken village near the border. I don’t even know if they’re still alive.
“Sometimes,” she admits. “I’ve sent them some money here and there. Roman doesn’t know. I just... couldn't let them starve.”
Surprise flickers through me. “You're a good person, Lizka.”
“I don't know if it’s kindness or me not wanting to carry that bitterness forever.”
I exhale, some tension easing. “Agreed,” I say.
Maybe it’s time we both move forward.