Chapter 24
ADRIANNE
Icouldn’t remember the last time I slept this well.
Like I had absolutely no worries in this world, no troubles, no challenges ahead. Which was absolutely wild given the fact that I was in Russia, waking up after losing my virginity to the same man who’d brought me here against my will.
But last night?
It was more than consensual. It was desired, craved, and even dreamt about.
I opened my eyes to find the bed empty, cold sheets beside me telling me Nikolai had long left.
Any other day, my self-deprecation and doubt would have forced me to feel like last night had been a mistake just for this simple fact. Yet today, I was not that version of myself.
I was confident because of the way he treated me. Because of the way he looked at me with reverence, even when his mouth was running wild on erotic words that should have made me feel filthy, but only made me tread that line to pleasure all that much faster.
There was no doubt that he knew what he was doing, and I craved that he did it more often.
Raw memories of last night crashed over me in vivid detail. His hands on my skin, his mouth claiming mine like he was addicted, the way he’d marked me with my own blood. The butterfly he’d drawn on my thigh, completing what I had left unfinished.
Mine to corrupt. Mine to destroy. Mine to remake.
A shiver ran through me that had nothing to do with the cold. My body ached in places I’d never felt before, a delicious soreness that reminded me of every thrust, every touch, every moment he’d claimed me.
I sat up slowly, the sheet falling away to reveal the evidence of what we’d done. Dried blood and other fluids stained the white fabric, a testament to my lost innocence.
I looked at it for a minute, trying to feel like I should. What madness came into me to fall for my captor? What insanity was this that kept me wanting more of anything he had to give?
Somehow, today, I couldn’t look at it like that. Nikolai seemed just as obsessed as I was, and the details of how we met and reached this point blurred into the background like the insignificant details they were.
The door opened, and I scrambled to cover myself, but it was only Galina. She carried a tray with breakfast and wore a knowing smile that made warmth flood my chest.
“Good morning, Miss Battaglia.” She set the tray on the bedside table, her eyes twinkling as her gaze met mine. “I trust you slept well?”
The way she said it told me she knew exactly what had happened in this room, and somehow, I didn’t care.
“I did. Thank you.”
“Sir Volkov has requested that you be treated as royalty today.” Her smile widened, genuine and warm. “Whatever you desire, it’s yours. A team will be here shortly to help you prepare for this evening’s festivities.”
“Festivities?”
“The Krasni Ball, of course.” She moved to the windows, pulling back the heavy curtains to let in pale winter sunlight. “It’s tonight. The most important event of the season.”
My heart skipped a beat. I didn’t think he’d want me there.
“He left you instructions for me?” I couldn’t keep the smile from my voice.
“Very specific instructions.” Galina’s expression softened. “He was quite insistent that you have everything you need and want. That you be pampered, cared for, made to feel special.” She paused, her eyes meeting mine. “Sir Volkov has never given such instructions before. Not for anyone.”
The warmth in my chest spread, filling every corner of my being.
“What do I need to do?”
“For now? Eat. Enjoy your breakfast. The team will arrive within the hour to transform you into the princess you deserve to be.”
Galina left, and I ate with enthusiasm, savoring every bite. The food was exquisite, clearly prepared with care, and I found myself grinning like an idiot between mouthfuls.
Last night changed everything. The way Nikolai looked at me, touched me, claimed me. There was more to it than just possession. I’d felt the devotion in his kisses, the care in his eyes, the reverence in each stroke of his lips against my skin.
And I wanted more of it.
A couple of hours later, my room flooded with people.
Five women entered, carrying cases of makeup, hair tools, and all sorts of things that best belonged in a luxury spa. Before I knew it, they’d set up stations around the room like I was about to undergo a magical transformation.
“Miss Battaglia,” the eldest of them said with a warm smile. “I’m Svetlana. We’re here to make you feel like a princess tonight.”
“Sir Volkov’s orders,” another woman added, younger, with kind eyes, and I knew she was holding back a wink. “He said you’re to be treated like royalty. That means the full treatment.”
My heart soared at the words and Nikolai’s thoughtfulness.
They led me to the bathroom where a tub had already been filled with steaming water that smelled of jasmine and vanilla. Rose petals floated on the surface, and candles lined the edges, making the whole room glow with soft light.
“Take your time,” Svetlana said. “Soak. Relax. Tonight is your night.”
I sank into the water with a sigh of pure contentment, letting the heat soothe my deliciously aching muscles.
Every twinge reminded me of Nikolai, of the way he’d stretched me, filled me, made me his.
The soreness between my thighs was a badge of honor, making me constantly shuffle to feel it there again and reminding me of what he’d done to me.
This was real. What we had was real, despite the circumstances and how it all started.
After soaking in the bath until my skin pruned, I climbed out and wrapped myself in the softest robe I’d ever felt. As soon as I took a seat in the middle of the room, they started working on me and chatting with such calm and glee that my heart filled with peace.
One worked on my hair, brushing out every tangle with careful strokes before drying it and twisting it into an elaborate updo.
Another focused on my nails, painting them a soft pink that reminded me of the camellias he’d left in my room.
A third started on my makeup, her brush strokes gentle and precise.
“You have beautiful bone structure,” she murmured. “Sir Volkov chose well.”
I beamed at the words. “Thank you.”
“He was very specific about everything,” Svetlana added as she worked. “The dress, your hair, even the shade of your lipstick. He wanted nothing less than perfection for you.”
My chest felt like it might burst.
“Close your eyes,” Svetlana instructed, and I obeyed, a smile still playing on my lips.
I felt brushes sweep across my eyelids, combs in my hair, and laughter that filled the space.
They worked with passion for their trade, occasionally murmuring compliments that made me feel like the most beautiful woman in the world.
Women upholding other women. It’s not common to find, even though I was aware they’d been paid for it.
“You’re glowing,” one of them said. “Whatever Sir Volkov did to put that smile on your face, I hope he keeps doing it.”
Everyone laughed at the innuendo that I honestly thought she didn’t mean, but at the bottom of my heart and with the heat pooling between my legs at the mere thought, I was hoping he kept on doing it, too.
This was magic. Pure, unadulterated magic.
“Don’t open your eyes yet,” Svetlana said after what felt like hours. “We have one more thing.”
I heard rustling, the sound of a zipper, and then fabric being handled.
“Stand, please.”
I did, keeping my eyes closed as they guided me. Cool air hit my skin as they removed the robe, and then fabric, soft as a feather, slid over my head.
They tugged and adjusted until I finally heard the zipper close. The dress hugged my curves before flowing out into what felt like clouds of fabric.
“Perfect,” someone said.
“Absolutely perfect.”
“Open your eyes, Miss Battaglia.”
When I did, my jaw almost hit the floor. The woman staring back at me from the full-length mirror couldn’t possibly be me.
My hair had been swept up into an elegant style with loose strands framing my face, making me look like I’d stepped out of a fairy tale. My makeup was flawless, making my eyes look impossibly large and bright, my lips full and soft. But it was the dress that stole my breath.
I had never seen anything like it.
Pure black, like a starless sky.
The bodice molded to my curves, held up by delicate straps that looked woven from shadow and silk. Beautiful, indeed, but the skirt made tears spring to my eyes.
Hundreds of butterflies embroidered into the fabric. Each one painstakingly detailed in silver and midnight blue thread. They started small at my waist, growing larger as they cascaded down the ballgown skirt.
Monarchs taking flight. Some mid-transformation. Some fully emerged. Orange and black wings catching the light with every breath, every movement.
It was the most devastating thing I’d ever seen.
“Nikolai.” My voice came out thick with emotion. “He had this made for me?”
“He commissioned it the moment you arrived,” Svetlana said softly. “The seamstress worked through the night to get it finished.”
I couldn’t stop staring. Couldn’t stop touching the delicate embroidery, feeling the weight, watching how it moved like a living shadow when I turned.
“One more thing.”
The youngest woman stepped forward with a crystal sphere that caught the light like captured starlight.
Inside, a monarch butterfly rested on black silk, its wings just as perfect as the ones I wore.
“Sir Volkov wanted you to have this.” She placed it in my hands with extra care. “It’s from the dome. He said even the most beautiful things can be kept safe. Protected. Cherished.”
A tear escaped before I could stop it.
“Your makeup!”
“Happy tears.” I laughed through them. “I promise.”
They smiled, understanding their meaning without the need for words.
“You love him,” Svetlana said, as if it were an irrefutable truth.
“No. I…” I looked at the sphere in my hands and then again at my reflection in the mirror, “Is that crazy?”
“Love usually is.” She adjusted a final tendril of hair. “But the way he speaks of you? The care in every detail tonight? He feels the same for you, my child. I have never seen Sir Volkov so invested.”
My heart threatened to burst from the speed at which it was beating.
“And this.” Svetlana pulled out a mask from a velvet box. “It’s a masquerade, after all.”
The mask was made out of black lace and crystals, shaped like butterfly wings that would frame my eyes. Delicate. Dangerous. So utterly perfect.
She secured it gently, and when I looked in the mirror again, I barely recognized myself.
A dark butterfly. A creature of shadow and beauty.
His Monarch.
“Thank you.” I meant it with everything in me. “All of you. This is more than I ever imagined.”
“You’re a sweet girl, you deserve it.” Svetlana’s smile was gentle and sincere. “Now go. Your prince mustn’t be kept waiting.”
Not a prince. A monster who’d stolen me and made me his.
But as I looked at myself in the mirror, at the butterflies taking flight across my dress, at the crystal sphere holding one captive and protected forever, I realized I’d never been happier.
Monster or not, he was mine.
And tonight, everyone would know it.