Chapter 10
CHAPTER TEN
Calina
For the next two days, I do everything I can to avoid Maxim.
I have breakfast brought to my room. I eat dinner in my room. I time my movements downstairs only when I’m sure he’s not around.
I hear him sometimes, the low rumble of his voice on the phone, his footsteps in the hallway, the sound of his bedroom door closing at night, but I never come out. I can’t face him after what happened. After I flinched like a scared child in front of him.
I keep expecting him to come banging on my door, to gloat, to mock me for showing weakness. But he doesn’t. And the memory of the fury in his eyes when he thought my brothers had hurt me… he looked genuinely angry on my behalf. Protective, even. I didn’t expect that from him.
Kira has called twice, trying to pull me into wedding planning. Flowers, colors, dresses, I’ve refused every time. I don’t care. I can’t bring myself to care about any of it. A part of me still hasn’t accepted that this is real. That in less than two weeks I’m actually going to marry Maxim Orlov.
On the third morning, I finally summon what little courage I have left.
I walk down the hall to his bedroom and knock. The door swings open almost immediately.
And the sight that greets me steals every word from my mouth.
Maxim is standing there shirtless, wearing nothing but a pair of low-hanging grey sweatpants that sit dangerously low on his hips.
His upper body is a masterpiece of hard muscle and ink.
Tattoos cover his chest, shoulders, and arms. Intricate designs, Bratva symbols, and dark patterns that only make him look more lethal.
His abdomen is sculpted, eight clearly defined abs flexing with every breath. The V-line disappearing into his sweatpants should be illegal.
It feels unfair. One person shouldn’t be allowed to look this good.
My mouth goes dry. Heat floods my face and rushes lower, pooling between my thighs.
I can’t stop staring. My eyes trace the lines of his chest, the way his tattoos move when he shifts his weight, the sheer strength in his arms and shoulders.
I’m practically ogling him, and I hate myself for it, but I can’t look away.
He’s too close. The scent of his soap and clean skin hits me, and my body reacts instantly, nipples tightening, that unwanted ache building low in my belly.
He clears his throat, the low sound snapping me out of my shameless staring.
“Did you want something, Calina?”
My cheeks burn as I realize he just caught me openly ogling his bare chest and abs like a starving woman.
I step past him into his bedroom before I can lose my nerve.
His room is nothing like I expected. It’s not the cold, all-black space I imagined. The walls are a deep charcoal gray with warm wood accents. A massive king-sized bed dominates the center, dressed in crisp navy and silver linens.
Floor-to-ceiling windows offer a stunning view of the lighted gardens and the city skyline beyond. There’s a sitting area with leather armchairs, a low table, and a small bar cart in the corner.
I force my gaze back to him. “I’m going to lunch with my sister-in-law tomorrow. Kira.”
He nods once. “Fine. You’ll go with a bodyguard.”
“I’m a grown woman. I don’t need armed sitters following me everywhere I go.”
His expression hardens. “Your brothers let you wander around without proper protection. That was careless. I won’t make the same mistake. You don’t leave this house without me or a bodyguard. End of discussion.”
I glare at him, but I know there’s no point in arguing right now. “Fine.”
“Good.”
He surprises me by walking over to his bedside table, opening the drawer, and pulling out a black credit card. He holds it out to me.
“I know you will need to get things for the wedding. Use this for your shopping. Whatever you need.”
I take it reluctantly. “Thank you, but I have my own money.”
“Whatever you had before doesn’t count anymore,” he says flatly. “You’re going to be my wife. That makes you my responsibility. Use the card.”
I put it away without further protest.
He watches me for a moment. “When do you plan on shopping for your wedding dress?”
I shrug. “I have no idea. I didn’t even know I was expected to wear one.”
His face darkens with clear disapproval.
“I could just wear one of those little dresses you bought me. The see-through ones.”
A low growl rumbles from his chest. “Don’t even think about it.”
I smile sweetly. “We’ll see about that.”
I turn toward the door and walk out without waiting for a reply. But I catch the look on his face just before I close the door. It’s priceless.
The next day arrives, and for the first time since I was taken, I feel something close to normal.
I meet Kira, Irina, and Milana for brunch at a quiet upscale café that Kira chose.
The moment I see my sister, my chest tightens with relief.
We crash into each other in a tight hug, holding on longer than necessary.
She smells like home, and for a few precious seconds, I let myself pretend everything is okay.
“I’ve missed you so much,” I whisper against her hair.
“I’m so sorry,” Milana says, voice cracking. “This is all my fault. If I hadn’t gone to the club with you—”
“No.” I pull back and cup her face, shaking my head firmly. “This is not your fault. None of it. It’s our father’s doing. He’s the one who killed Maxim’s father and signed that stupid blood contract. You didn’t do anything wrong.”
Kira and Irina join us, wrapping their arms around both of us for a moment before we sit down. For the next hour, we talk, laugh, and share stories like old times.
They tell me how shocked everyone is that I’m actually going through with this. How Artyom and Mikhail keep tearing the contract apart looking for any loophole and have still found no solution.
Milana looks guilty the entire time. “I still feel like I should be the one marrying him.”
I reach across the table and squeeze her hand. “And that’s exactly why I stepped forward. You deserve a chance at happiness. I couldn’t let him take that from you.”
The conversation eventually drifts to the wedding. Kira and Irina both talk about venues, flowers, dresses, and color schemes. I sit there mostly quiet, pushing my food around my plate.
“You only get married once in this world,” Kira says gently. “Like I already told you, even if it’s not by choice, you should make it count. Let us help you plan something beautiful.”
Irina nods enthusiastically. “We should go wedding shopping! We don’t have much time.”
I shake my head. “I’m really not in the mood.”
“Come on,” Irina pleads. “Just window shopping? We don’t even have to try anything on. Just look around. Please?”
After ten more minutes of gentle nagging from both of them, I finally sigh in defeat. “Fine. Window shopping only.”
We finish brunch and head to one of the most exclusive bridal boutiques in the city. The moment we step inside, I’m surrounded by racks of stunning white gowns, sparkling veils, and lace.
I stand there, staring at a particularly beautiful dress, and feel a strange mix of emotions I can’t quite name.
This is really happening.
In less than two weeks, I’m going to walk down the aisle toward Maxim Orlov.
And no matter how much I try to pretend otherwise… a small, terrified part of me is starting to wonder what that day will actually feel like.
We spend the next couple of hours in the bridal boutique. I try on several dresses at Kira and Irina’s insistence. I stand in front of the mirror each time, staring at a stranger in white, and feel absolutely nothing.
In the end, we book another appointment for two days from now so I can do “proper shopping.” I leave all the planning completely in the hands of Kira, Irina, and Milana. They seem thrilled to take over. I’m just grateful they’re excited about something I can barely stomach thinking about.
After the boutique, we decide to go shopping for other things. I drag them to a few stores and use Maxim’s black card without guilt. I buy proper clothes, tailored pants, blouses, jeans, sweaters, things that actually cover me.
I stock up on my usual skincare, the exact toiletries and products I like, and everything else I need to feel like myself again instead of some doll he’s trying to dress up.
By the time we're done, we decide to go get lunch. And after lunch, we all slip into the restaurant’s bathroom to freshen up before leaving.
I stand in front of the large mirror, reapplying my lipstick with careful strokes. Kira is beside me, fixing her hair, while Irina stands a little further down, rummaging through her purse. Milana leans against the counter, watching us with that quiet, observant smile of hers.
Irina clears her throat softly. She glances at the door to make sure it’s closed, then steps closer to me. Her expression shifts from light and playful to something more serious.
“Calina,” she says quietly, voice low enough that only we can hear. “I wanted to give you something.”
She reaches into her purse and pulls out a small black pistol. She presses it into my hand, the metal cool and heavy against my palm.
I stare down at it, then up at her, surprised. “What is this for?”
“Protection,” she says quietly. “Just in case. You don’t really know Maxim yet. If things go bad… you need to be able to protect yourself.”
I almost tell her the truth, that after the past few days, I don’t think he’s the type who would hurt me. He’s controlling, arrogant, and infuriating, but he hasn’t raised a hand to me.
He even looked furious when he thought my brothers had hit me. But admitting that out loud feels too defensive. Too much like I’m making excuses for him. Like I’m defending the man who’s forcing me to marry him. So I keep my mouth shut.
I tuck the gun into my bag and joke instead, “If I end up killing him, I’m going to need help hiding the body.”
Kira grins. “We’ve got you.”
Milana adds with a straight face, “I know a guy who knows a guy.”
We all burst out laughing, the sound echoing off the bathroom tiles. For a few minutes, it feels like old times.
By the time I climb back into the car with my security detail, I feel lighter than I have in days.
I get back to the estate just as the sun is setting. The mansion is quiet, almost eerily so. I’ve come to realize that the staff leaves early and retreats to their quarters on the far side of the property. Maxim doesn’t like having people around when he’s home.
I head straight to the kitchen for a glass of water, before heading to my bedroom. As I head back toward the stairs, I hear rhythmic, heavy sounds coming from the second floor. Curiosity gets the better of me. I walk quietly down the hallway until I reach the open door of the gym.
Maxim is shirtless again, wearing nothing but black gym shorts that hang low on his hips. His back is to me, muscles flexing and rippling with every powerful punch he throws at the heavy bag. Sweat glistens on his skin, making the tattoos across his shoulders and back stand out even more.
This is the second time in less than twenty-four hours I’ve seen him half-naked, and it’s doing dangerous things to me. My mouth goes dry. I wet my lips without thinking, unable to tear my eyes away from the way his body moves, strong, lethal.
He suddenly stops, turns around, and catches me staring. Again.
Our eyes lock.
He grabs a towel and wipes the sweat from his face and chest, his dark gaze never leaving mine. “You’re back. How did the outing go?”
I shrug, trying to sound casual. “It was fine.”
He drapes the towel around his neck. “I was told you went wedding dress shopping. Have you made up your mind on a dress yet?”
I blink. “You had someone report my every move to you?”
He doesn’t deny it. “Answer the question, Calina.”
“Not yet,” I mutter. “We’re going back in a couple of days.”
Silence stretches between us. The air feels heavier with every second we stand there staring at each other.
He clears his throat. “How about you join me?”
I raise an eyebrow. “To do what?”
“I could teach you boxing. Self-defense.”
I stare at him, surprised. The offer feels… genuine. And then it hits me. He's probably thinking about the way I flinched the other night. About what my father used to do to me. He wants me to be able to defend myself.
He adds quietly, “Only if you want to.”
I hesitate for only a second before nodding. “Yeah… I’d like that.”
If Maxim is the one teaching me self-defense, then at least I know he won’t be the one I need to defend myself against. Right?