Chapter 3 Mila
Mila
I’m pretty sure everyone knows what just happened to me in that garden.
My hands won’t stop shaking as I smooth my dress for the third time. The silk feels different now. Everything does.
I duck into a side bathroom and lock the door behind me.
The mirror shows what I’m afraid of. Flushed cheeks. Smudged makeup. Hair slipping from its careful pins. I look ravaged. It’s humiliating, considering Alexei walked away without a hair out of place.
I splash cold water on my face to get myself together. I fumble with the pearl pins, trying to rebuild the updo that took my stylist an hour to do. The best I can manage is barely presentable. Maybe people will think I just got overheated from dancing.
Except I haven’t danced.
I take a breath and force myself out of the bathroom. The reception is in full swing. Music pours through the ballroom as couples spin across the dance floor. Waiters weave between tables with champagne and hors d’oeuvres. Everyone looks like they’re having the time of their lives.
Everyone except me.
I grab another glass of champagne from a passing waiter. The bubbles tickle my throat, but I welcome the distraction. Anything to stop thinking about the garden.
The way I melted into him. The way I let him take and take.
And how I hated him for stopping.
When Papa finds me, I can’t even look at him.
“There you are,” he says. “I’ve been looking for you.”
“I needed some fresh—” I catch myself. “I wasn’t feeling well.”
His eyes skim my face, catching everything I failed to fix. He doesn’t mention it; he just puts a hand on my back and steers me toward a quiet corner. “We need to talk about the opportunities tonight.”
“Opportunities?”
“Don’t play stupid, Mila. It doesn’t suit you. Several people have already approached me about arrangements. The Kozlovs aren’t the only family seeking alliances.”
My stomach drops. “I’m not interested in being married off.”
“Your interests don’t matter when the family’s survival is at stake.”
I’ve heard versions of this speech my whole life, but it sounds different tonight. Desperate. Like the window for escape is slamming shut.
“Papa, I have one year left before I finish my doctorate. Just let me—”
“Your mother had dreams, too. She wanted to open an art gallery. Spend her days surrounded by beauty instead of blood. But she understood that being part of this family means making sacrifices.”
I drain the rest of my champagne and set the empty glass on a nearby table. “And look what happened there. Not such a happy ending, is it?”
“Your mother left because she was weak.” He says it without emotion, like he’s talking about the weather. “She abandoned her family when we needed her most. Walked out after your sister’s disgrace and never looked back. Do you have any idea what that did to our reputation? Our credibility?”
“She was hurting. We all were.”
“Pain is not an excuse for desertion.” He pulls out his phone and checks something before continuing. “Your mother chose herself over her family. I won’t allow you to do the same.”
The comparison makes something ache in my chest. I haven’t spoken to Mama since she left. Haven’t answered her calls or replied to her emails. Part of me blames her for abandoning us during the worst crisis our family has faced. But another part gets why she couldn’t stay.
“I’m not abandoning anyone. I’m just trying to finish school.”
“School.” He spits the word like a curse. “What good is a degree when our family is destroyed? When your sister’s disgrace has left us vulnerable to every enemy we’ve ever made?”
“Education is the only way I’ll ever have options beyond this world.”
“This world is your birthright, Mila. Your responsibility. And whether you like it or not, you will fulfill that responsibility. Your mother left a void that someone must fill. Family dinners. Social obligations. Representing the Andreev name at functions like this one. Those duties now fall to you.”
I want to argue, to tell him I never asked for this, but the words stick in my throat because arguing won’t change anything. Papa made his decision the moment Mama walked out the door.
“I need more time.”
“Time is a luxury we don’t have.” His phone buzzes again, and he checks it with a frown. “I have business to attend to. Stay here. Be visible. Show people that the Andreev family is still strong.”
“You mean show them I’m available for the highest bidder.”
“I mean show them you understand loyalty and family obligation. Something your sister clearly never learned.” He pockets his phone and adds, “And for God’s sake, try to look less disheveled. People are noticing.”
He walks away, leaving me with my ruined dress and my shame.
I scan the ballroom for Alexei, but he’s gone. Coward, I tell myself. Only I’m not sure which of us I mean.
Maybe he left. Maybe he got what he wanted and moved on. The thought twists in my stomach, though I refuse to call it disappointment.
My eyes land on the happy couple instead. Dmitri and Katya move across the floor, locked into each other. His hand rests on her back. She leans in like she can’t get close enough. Smiles at him like he’s given her the world instead of trapping her in it.
Everyone knows their story. Katya was FSB. She infiltrated Dmitri’s organization to take him down. He caught her, caged her, and forced her to live a lie. Sounds like a nightmare.
But watching them now, it doesn’t look like a nightmare. It looks like love.
Maybe I’m naive. Maybe I’m seeing what I want to see. But the way he smiles at her when he thinks no one’s watching isn’t an act. That’s real.
The song ends, and Katya drifts into the crowd, straight toward me.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?”
Up close, she’s even more stunning than from across the room. Platinum blonde hair swept into an elegant twist. Ice-blue eyes. Bone structure that makes other women jealous.
“Your wedding is lovely,” I manage.
“Thank you. Though I have to admit, the best part is finally being able to stop planning it.” She glances toward where Dmitri stands with Alexei now. “Watching him tonight and seeing how happy he is makes everything we went through worth it.”
“How did you know? That it would be worth it?”
She eyes me for a moment, and I get the feeling she’s reading more than I intended to show. “I didn’t at first. But sometimes, you have to take a leap of faith and trust that the person you’re falling for will catch you.”
“And if they don’t?”
“Then at least you tried. At least you know.” She touches my arm gently. “I saw you talking to Alexei earlier. He’s a good man under all that aggression. Probably the most loyal person I know besides my husband.”
Heat creeps up my neck. “We were just talking.”
“Sure, you were.” Her smile says she doesn’t believe me for a second. “Just remember that the Kozlov brothers protect what’s theirs. Sometimes, that protection looks like control. But it comes from genuine care, even if they’re terrible at showing it.”
“I’m not his.” I pause. “I’m not anyone’s.”
“Not yet. But that look he gave you earlier?” She laughs and shakes her head. “I’ve seen that look. On my husband’s face, right before he decided I was worth fighting for.”
Before I can respond, Dmitri calls for his wife from across the room. She gives me one more knowing look before gliding away to join her husband.
I need another drink.
The bartender pours me a vodka tonic without asking, and I take it gratefully. The alcohol helps numb the confusion swirling through my head. Helps me forget Papa’s demands, Alexei’s smug smile, and the way my body aches for his touch.
The rest of the reception passes in a haze of forced smiles and meaningless small talk. I avoid my cousin Oksana and anyone else who might want to discuss my romantic prospects. Every time someone asks if I’m seeing anyone, I want to scream.
Finally, mercifully, people start to leave. I retrieve my clutch from coat check and prepare to escape this nightmare. My driver is waiting outside. All I have to do is make it to the car without any more humiliation.
I open my purse to check for my phone, and freeze.
There’s a slip of paper inside that wasn’t there before. Heavy, expensive cardstock. Just an address written in bold handwriting and a time beneath it.
Tomorrow. Midnight.
No signature. No explanation. But I know who left it.
Alexei.
He expects me to come to him. To show up at some address in the middle of the night like an obedient little rabbit who can’t resist the hunter’s call.
The arrogance is staggering. The presumption that I’d even consider it after what he did in the garden… After he made me come apart and then walked away like it meant nothing…
I should throw away the note and pretend I never saw it. I should do anything except what my traitorous body is already planning.
“Ready to go, Miss Andreeva?” my driver asks as he waits at the door.
I shove the note back into my purse and follow him outside. “Yes.”
The cool night soothes my flushed skin as we walk to the car. Moscow stuns around us, beautiful and dangerous in equal measure. Just like everything else in my life right now.
I slide into the backseat and pull out my phone. Twenty-three missed calls from my best friend Anna wanting details about the wedding. A text from my academic advisor about next week’s presentation. Three emails about my thesis research.
Normal things. Safe things. The life I’m supposed to be living instead of obsessing over a man who finger-fucked me against a wall and then walked away smirking.
I pull up the note again and memorize the address before I can talk myself out of it.
This is insane. Going to meet Alexei would be the worst decision I could make. He’s dangerous and arrogant; everything I’ve spent years trying to avoid. Everything Papa wants me to embrace.
But I’m already thinking about what to wear, and planning what to say when he opens the door. Wondering if he’ll finish what he started in the garden.
Because Katya was right about one thing. Sometimes you have to take a leap of faith.
Even if you’re pretty sure you’re going to hit the ground hard when you land.