Chapter 15
Zoya
“No, no, no! Don’t put that there!” Christopher swats the makeup brush away before it reaches my face.
He circles me slowly with narrowed eyes, inspecting every angle while his team of three assistants moves around me in a controlled frenzy.
One smooths my hair while another blends something across my cheekbones.
There’s the third, working at my feet with a needle and thread.
Christopher has been directing this chaos for the past hour, his voice cutting through the room with each new command.
“I could have done my own makeup,” I whine.
Christopher’s hand flies to his chest. “Don’t even joke about that. Mr. Romanov gave me very clear instructions.” He waves at someone behind me. “The lipstick. No, the other shade. The one I set aside this morning.”
I tried telling Alexei this was unnecessary, but he disagreed loudly.
“Now for the dress.” Christopher’s voice softens as he claps his hands together. “Handle it with care.” An assistant approaches with the garment bag, the zipper sliding down to reveal emerald green silk while crystals catch the light across the bodice.
The assistants guide me into the dress as the silk settles over my body.
Someone works the lacing at my back, his fingers quick as they fasten the corset, while another adjusts how the fabric sits across my shoulders.
White gloves appear, and an assistant says, “Excuse me,” as they take my hands and slide them into the gloves.
Christopher walks slowly around me, his gaze scanning for any flaw.
“Does this feel wrong? Can you breathe easily? Do you like the color of the dress? Should we change something, Mrs. Romanov?”
“Oh, yeah. I’m fine. I’m fine.”
Christopher steps back and studies me one more time before he claps his hands sharply. “Alright, everybody. Pack up. It’s time to leave.”
The room erupts, makeup cases snap shut, and garment bags zip closed as equipment disappears into bags. I need air, so I slip out and head for the elevator, where the doors close after I press the button for the penthouse level.
The elevator hums as it rises and opens, and I walk through the apartment with the dress moving with each step.
In our bedroom, I go straight to the closet to grab my emergency bag and shove a pair of flats inside because there is no way I’m wearing heels all night.
I catch my reflection in the full-length mirror and stop, walking closer until the woman looking back is a stranger.
I sink onto the sofa nearby while still staring.
“Wow,” the word slips out as I realize I really look like this and that I’m actually pretty.
“Wow,” someone else says, and I nearly fall off the sofa as I turn to see Alexei standing at the door. His suit is perfectly fitted, and his hair is slicked back while he stares directly at me.
“Is that a good wow or a bad wow?”
He steps into the room and says, “There’s no bad wow when it comes to you.”
My face warms, so I laugh to cover it. “Fine. Look at my beautiful face. Take it all in.”
He moves toward me. He stops when he’s close and says, “Yes. But something’s missing.”
“What?” I ask.
His hand comes out from behind his back. He’s holding a small velvet box. My breath catches as he opens it. Inside sits a necklace with a teardrop emerald pendant surrounded by diamonds. The chain is delicate, and the smaller diamonds catch the light.
I lean closer. “It’s so beautiful.”
“May I?”
I nod excitedly and in awe, waiting as he moves behind me.
His fingers brush my shoulder as he gathers my hair and sweeps it to one side.
Then he leans down and presses a kiss to the side of my neck, soft and lingering.
My breath hitches. He brings the necklace around my throat.
The cool metal settles against my skin. His fingers work the clasp at the back of my neck.
When it’s fastened, he leans down again and kisses the inside of my neck right where my pulse hammers.
“Beautiful,” he murmurs against my skin. His hand comes around to touch the necklace while his fingers trace the emerald.
“Well, it is.” I feel something lodged in my throat. Something that sounds too close to tears. I really need to stop crying all the time. I’ll hate to ruin this makeup.
“I wasn’t talking about the necklace.”
I look up at the mirror. He’s not looking at the jewelry, but staring directly at my face with an intensity that makes my skin burn.
“Stop.”
“What?” He smiles. “I can’t compliment my wife?”
“I’m not your wife yet.”
He spins me to face him, his hand wrapping around my waist as his thumb moves in slow circles against my side. “Not long now.” Alexei moves back and extends his arm. “Time to go. You’re my date tonight.”
I link my hand with his arm. Then stop. “Wait. I need that.” I pick up the bag with the flats.
He looks at it. “What’s that?”
“Flats. The heels won’t last all night.”
“Makes sense.” He takes the bag from me. “Let’s go.”
He guides me to the elevator.
We arrive at the venue - an old hotel in central Moscow.
Light pours from the tall windows. Intricate woodwork and velvet tapestries line the foyer.
Well-dressed people file through the entrance, Russia’s criminal class in expensive suits and gowns.
Alexei keeps his hand on my lower back as we get out, firm, steering me forward. We climb the steps side by side.
The ballroom spreads out in front of us.
Tall ceilings and chandeliers hanging like frozen waterfalls fill the space.
Tables are set with precision. Well-dressed people are on every corner, and Alexei steers me forward with a firm hand on my back.
We walk through groups of guests. That’s when I spot them - my mother in a navy dress and my father in a dark suit.
She looks smaller somehow as they talk with someone.
My mother sees me first. Her face lights up as she excuses herself from the conversation and walks toward us, my father following.
“Zoya.” My mother’s voice is warm. She pulls me into a tight hug. “My darling girl. Look at you.”
I hug her back while my eyes sting. “Hi, Mama.”
My father embraces me next, stiff and awkward. “You look beautiful, дочка.” I still recognize the heavy pull of his Ukrainian accent.
Alexei reaches out. My father shakes his hand. It appears pleasant, but it isn’t. “Artem. I appreciate you being here.”
“We wouldn’t miss it.” My father tries to smile, but it looks forced. “We’re so happy for you.”
“You are?” The sarcasm slips out.
My mother looks at me sharply. “We are. Truly.” She threads her arm through mine and turns to him. “Alexei, do you mind? Just a quick mother-daughter moment.”
“Go ahead.” He presses his lips to my forehead. “Stay close.”
My mother guides me away as we move through clusters of guests. She finds a less crowded area near the windows and takes two champagne glasses from a passing waiter, giving one to me. “Drink this. You need it.”
I take a sip of the good champagne, though it doesn’t help.
“Well.” She looks at me carefully. “How are you actually doing?”
“How would I be?”
“I think you’re in the right place,” she says, speaking gently but clearly. “You’re upset. You feel we deceived you. But this situation…”
“Was arranged long ago. I understand,” I say, finishing half the glass. “Alexei said it all. I belonged to the Romanovs since fifteen. The German story was fake.”
“Yes.”
“You knew the entire time?”
A pause follows before she answers. “Yes.”
That hurts. More than it should. “Why didn’t you say anything?” I ask.
“Because you’d have left. You left anyway.” She brushes my cheek with her fingers. “I know you. Headstrong. Independent. Always fighting for control.” Her expression softens. “If I told you the truth, you’d vanish. That’s what you did.”
“So lying was easier.”
“I gave you time. As much as I could.” Her eyes drift to where Alexei stands across the room as men cluster around him.
“That time is finished. You’re here now, and you belong to him.” She faced me without a hint of softness in her expression. “Stop acting like a child.”
“Excuse me?”
“You heard me.” Her tone made my skin prickle.
“I’ve been watching the way you challenge him with that rebellious attitude.
You probably think it’s thrilling or that he finds it charming, but Alexei Romanov is not a man you test. He is the Pakhan.
He has killed more people than you’ve met in your entire lifetime.
Right now, he’s being patient with you, but that patience is going to run out. ”
“He wouldn’t hurt me.”
“He would do things much worse than hurting you,” she said, her voice turning brutal.
“Wake up. If you actually want a good life, stop fighting him on every little thing.
Be obedient when it matters and give him what he wants so you're easy to deal with instead of a constant problem. Submission is what keeps you safe, while pride is what gets you buried.”
She released my arm slightly and looked at me directly. “Are you pregnant?”
“No.”
A sharp flash of disappointment crosses her face. “Then get pregnant soon. You need to secure your home with a child before people start gossiping. In our world, a woman’s value is measured by what she produces. Sons especially.”
She moves closer until her eyes bore into mine.
“I only gave your father one child, and that alone nearly destroyed me. The whispers and the judgment would have seen me thrown out if it wasn't for my father’s power and your father’s stubborn love.
I want the best for you, so listen to me: get pregnant fast.”
“Can I wait until after school?”
“School?” Her tone sharpens instantly. “What school?”
“Alexei is letting me attend university. He’s already arranging it.”