Chapter One
Mila’s POV
I blew out a breath as I sat in front of my dresser.
Tonight was a big night —despite the dozens of times Anya had insisted that it was really just a small affair—I couldn’t afford to rush through makeup for any reason.
A small affair in Anya’s world was larger than the most sophisticated gala a university could throw; I didn’t need anyone to tell me that.
My goal wasn’t to be the belle of the ball by any means; it was to look good enough to feel comfortable, regardless of the gaping difference between the price of my outfit and theirs.
Besides, it was my best friend’s engagement party.
I wouldn’t show up there looking like an uninvited nonentity.
Since that midnight many months ago when Anya had called, almost screaming my ear off that Vissarion had proposed, I had been preparing for this day.
And I wasn’t about to arrive looking like someone who got a late invite out of pity.
I gazed at my reflection in the mirror. The dewy foundation and dusty rose blush made a soft, glowing combo on my face. Encouraged, I moved on to do the smoky eyes I’d practiced several times.
After two minutes of careful artistry, my eyes had transformed from regular to party-ready, with the mascara, bronze eyeshadow, and silver platinum seamlessly blended. I moved on to my lips, applying a nude pink lipstick and clear gloss over them. I finished the makeup with my bronzer and spray.
I checked the time and saw that I had just enough.
Well, my hair’s easy.
Wearing it loose had always been the plan.
It was still moist, so I applied some moisturizer, conditioned it, and brushed it down.
I stood up from the chair and went over to my bed where my dress lay.
It was a blush pink dress that I had borrowed from Anya months before—and I couldn’t wait to wear it.
I couldn’t have bought something so exquisite since all the money I made from freelancing went to school and living expenses.
So when Anya offered, I gladly took the offer and selected the dress after trying on about a dozen.
Checking my purse one last time, I zipped it up and placed it at the edge of my dresser before putting on my silver ball earrings. I shrugged off my robe and stepped into the dress, loving the feel of the soft inner silk against my skin.
That was when Anya’s text came. My ride was downstairs, ready to bring me to the estate.
I slid on my silver sandal heels and quickly zipped up the dress. I sprayed some perfume as I quickly gave myself a final look in the mirror.
The mermaid silhouette dress was covered in intricate, shimmering sequins that appeared iridescent, catching the light to show flashes of silver, lavender, and champagne.
It featured a flattering deep V-neckline supported by delicate spaghetti straps, and the fitted bodice flared out around my knees, extending into a slightly sweeping train.
With a pleased smile, I stepped out of my room.
The driver offered a curt nod as he opened my door.
As I looked out the car window, I imagined what the party would be like.
It was the first engagement party I would be attending, and also the first Lobanov function, since I’d known Anya.
When Anya had told me that the whole family, including her cousins, might be attending, I had held back from asking if that included her older brother.
He might be on a business trip, right? I had been avoiding thinking about him or the possibility of seeing him.
And I had been doing really well, so far.
I didn’t need to be told when we arrived at the Lobanov estate. The gates, towering buildings, and long stretches of unpaved space looked just like they did that night several months ago.
How time flies.
Back then, Vissarion was still just a guy she was dating. Little did she know that she would be a fiancé just a few months later. Neither of us realized what would bring me to the Lobanov estate in the coming months.
Well, here I am. Best friend of the bride-to-be.
“Thank you,” I uttered as the driver opened the back door for me to step out.
I craned my neck as I took in the tall building in front of me. The two men at the entrance looked so muscular that I could imagine them throwing a troublemaker out without breaking a sweat.
In that second, I contemplated calling Anya, just so I wouldn’t have to step in alone, but I knew I shouldn’t since she was the celebrant and not just another attendee.
This wasn’t one of the regular events we’d attended together.
Smoothing my dress down, I took a breath and ascended the stairs that led to the entrance.
“Name, miss,” the man on the left asked me.
“Mi—” I started before the other man cut in.
“Miss Mila. Welcome,” he greeted before muttering to his colleague, “Miss Anya showed us her picture. She’s the one.”
That explained why the driver didn’t ask for my name or request a call to Anya for verification. He recognized me. I almost chuckled at the thought of Anya showing them a picture of me while making not-so-subtle threats to ‘end’ them if they dared question me like a stranger.
“Oh, apologies,” the man on the left said.
“No problem. Thanks,” I answered.
He opened the door and the sound of music spilled out onto the dim patio, colorful lights brightening the evening darkness a fraction.
As the door closed behind me, the combined scent of expensive perfumes and delicious pastries hit me, as if I’d just walked into a three-star Michelin restaurant. But the sight was something else entirely.
The women were dressed in glamorous outfits that definitely cost more than my tuition, not to mention the magazine-worthy, flawless makeup they had on.
The men, who were dressed in sharp suits, talked among themselves like members of some type of cult.
It was nothing short of extravagant, even though the space wasn’t filled to the brim.
I silently thanked the powers that be for my dress, even though I couldn’t shake the feeling of being out of place. I smoothed the dress again, internally telling myself to breathe.
Realizing that staying fixed to my current spot for another second would make me look really weird, I ventured into the ballroom with the desperate hope that Anya would notice me soon.
I stuck to the fringes of the room, my eyes searching for my best friend’s golden brown hair. I was close to the middle of the ballroom when I spotted him.
Alexei Lobanov.
The sight of him hit me like a blow. His dark auburn hair shone beneath the chandeliers just like it had under the streetlights and his charcoal black suit looked even more impeccable.
He stood across the ballroom, his slicked-back hair making him look impossibly handsome.
As my eyes moved from the glass of whiskey in his hand to his face, they met his.
Oh, God.
I hadn’t seen him since the night I first met him. That night, his presence tantalized my senses and haunted my body. I had told myself it was nothing—and it had been, really. But at that moment, with those piercing eyes locked on mine, I wasn’t sure nothing described what I felt.
He was watching me. Openly. Daringly. Like he remembered every second, too.
“Oh. My. Goodness. Mila!”
My eyes darted to the side, towards a smiling Anya. I went towards her, and we hugged like we hadn’t just seen each other two days earlier.
“You look…stunning. Damn!” I complimented her, taking in the black silk dress she wore.
She had tried it on in my presence, so I wasn’t surprised that it looked so good on her.
Still though, she looked so beautiful that I couldn’t help taking the dress in again.
The sheer lace that made up the sleeves matched the material that covered the cleavage between the V-neckline, and the material was covered in silver rhinestones.
The dress perfectly cinched her narrow waist and accentuated her soft curves as the high slit widened the dress down to her feet.
“I was just saying the same about you,” she answered, rolling her eyes. “I hope no one gave you any trouble. I mean the driver and security.”
“Not at all. Seems they knew my face or something.”
“Good,” she remarked, looping her arm through mine. “Come, Vissarion has asked after you like a million times.”
“Of course, anything to see the second celebrant of the day,” I answered as we moved along.
“More like, anything to get away from other people,” she pointed out, chuckling.
“Shut up,” I whispered.
“Anyway, you had better charge your social battery because you won’t be staying in the background at my party.”
“Feels like I'm the poor caterer's daughter,” I muttered.
“Jeez! Have you seen yourself?” she questioned, turning towards me as if I'd just delivered a shocking speech. “Don’t let me hear that nonsense again.”
“It's not about the dresses. And you know that,” she added, her voice softer.
“Yeah,” I agreed, sighing. “You're right.”
“I'm glad you agree,” she answered, flashing me a knowing look before we both burst into laughter.
What she said was an inside joke for us. It was something I often said to her after an argument, whether or not it ended in an actual agreement.
I saw Vissarion slightly bent over as he spoke an elderly woman, making her wrinkled face soften into a smile. That was my best friend’s man. Ever charming. There was no disputing he brought out the softness in Anya.
“And there’s my darling,” he said, straightening and turning to face us with a smile as if he knew we were approaching.
“Just the man we were looking for,” she replied.
The lapel of his black suit dazzled as he pulled Anya close.
“Mila, I was beginning to think you were going to ditch me,” he told me, extending his arm to give me a side hug.
“Nah, I couldn’t. I came for you, not for her,” I answered, smiling.
“Wow,” Anya drawled, and Vissarion chuckled.
“You look beautiful, by the way,” he commented.
“Thanks. You look good, too.”