Chapter Twenty-One Vladimir
That kiss.
Ending the kiss and pulling away from Anya was the hardest thing I’ve ever done.
My heart screams at me for walking away.
Her taste is intoxicating. I see the same awe and desire reflected in her eyes.
But I can’t let this happen. Balling my hands so I don’t reach out to touch her, I turn and step away, leaving her in the courtyard like the coward I am.
I need to find Dominic and get the hell out of here before I ruin everything.
“What the hell has you so pissed off?” Dominic asks.
“We need to get out of here,” I mutter, walking toward the door.
Dominic remains silent until we’re in the car. “Want to tell me what happened?” He waits for several beats, but when I don’t respond, he continues. “Is this about Anya?”
I snap my head in his direction and glare at him. Dominic has the gall to lift his hands in surrender while laughing at me. “What happened?”
“I kissed her,” I mutter, leaning my head back and closing my eyes. However, visions of Anya flood my mind, so I snap my eyes open.
“So, what’s wrong? Was it a bad kiss?”
I shoot him a dark look, but he doesn’t cower, of course. He just smirks at me. “Fuck you,” I mutter.
“I don’t understand why you’re so upset. Anya is a beautiful woman. I can understand why you’re attracted to her.”
“I can’t be attracted to her. That’s not why we’re here. We have to convince Alexi to take back his throne. Once he’s in charge of the Bratva, he can help us dismantle the human trafficking scheme. If he thought I was taking advantage of his sister, he would never trust us.”
“Are you sure? Alexi strikes me as someone who would want his sister to be happy. He’d want her to be with someone she cares about and who cares about her. I’ve seen how she looks at you. She’s attracted to you. You’re attracted to her. I don’t understand the problem.”
Shaking my head, I heave out a sigh. “It can’t happen, so knock it off. Did you learn anything?”
Dominic nods his head. “I did. While you were seducing Anya, I studied all three of the men that Alexandr is considering, and I have to say they’re all losers.
Oleg and Pavel are assholes who will hit on anything in a dress.
I think they’re competing to see who can bag the most women.
Although neither of them seems to like women very much. ”
“They’re gay?” I ask, confused.
“No, they’re not gay. They’re just assholes and misogynists. They think women exist for their enjoyment. Neither has any interest in the woman, only the conquest.”
“Yeah, I got the same feeling when I was talking to Pavel. He was too wrapped up in his opinions to acknowledge Anya’s accomplishments. He treated Anya like she was the audience to his one-person show. What about Artem? Did you get anything more on him?”
“I did. I watched all three men interact with the waitstaff and the other guests. Watching Oleg and Pavel checking out the girls made it obvious that Artem doesn’t lean that way. He was busy watching the men. I think he’s gay.”
“Seriously?” I ask, surprised. “Do you think that’s common knowledge?”
“No. Artem puts on a show. Oleg and Pavel are too self-involved to notice Artem’s actions. They include him in their shit-talking. Artem feigns interest, but once they turn away from him, he’s back to checking out the men. It was interesting to watch. I wasn’t the only one watching him.”
I wait for him to continue.
“Artem’s father was watching him, too. I think he suspects that his son is gay.”
“Hmm. That might explain his anger towards his son. Do you think we should cross Artem off our list of potential kidnappers?”
“No. We think whoever tried to kidnap Anya did it to force Alexandr’s hand. What if Artem wanted to eliminate her so he wouldn’t have to marry her?”
The thought of someone killing Anya has my blood running cold. I can’t imagine a world where she isn’t in it.
“We’re going to protect her,” Dominic says.
“Yeah. Anya needs to survive this without experiencing any trauma. We have to keep her safe. We also need to convince Alexi to take back his birthright. I think Anya might play a key role in making that happen. I have an idea.”
Pulling out my phone, I make a few calls. When I finally reach the person who can assist me, I already have the plan worked out in my head. When my contact balks at my request, I finally persuade her with a bribe. I end the call to see Dominic watching me.
“That’s a lot of money,” he says.
“I think it will be worth it. At least I hope it is. We have some work to do before tomorrow night.”
At the hotel, we find Alexi has already retired for the night. Dominic pours me a glass of bourbon and sits across from me.
“You think this plan will change Alexi’s mind?”
I shrug. “I don’t know, but we need to try. Alexi loves his sister. He needs to act like a big brother and protect her from her current fate.”
“Watching her perform should help. However, how are you going to prove to him that she’s in danger?”
“He already knows someone tried to kidnap her once. He needs to see and hear for himself the truth of what she’s facing if he stays his current course.”
The next morning, over breakfast, I shared with Alexi the news that we were going shopping to get him a tuxedo.
“Why would I need a tuxedo?” Alexi asks in surprise. “Where am I going?”
“To the theater. You’re going to watch Anya perform as the Lilac Fairy. It’s her opening night.”
“You think it’s safe for me to attend? What if someone recognizes me?”
“It will be dark in the theater, and I’ve gotten us a box. We’ll arrive late enough so that we won’t have to mingle in the lobby, but we can go straight to our seats. We can leave before the lights come on.”
“Why are you doing this?” he asks suspiciously.
“I want to see your sister’s performance. I thought you might want to see it too.”
“What about my father? He’ll be there. He wouldn’t miss Opening Night.”
“He won’t see you. I promise. I’ve made all the arrangements.”
Alexi considers it for a few minutes, but I can tell he’s desperate to agree. He finally nods his head. “Let’s go shopping for a tuxedo.”
When I arrive at the theater, I spot Alexandr with his guests, Pavel, Artem, and Oleg.
His assistant, Igor, stands next to him as they wait for me to join them.
Dominic and Alexi wait in the car until I direct Alexandr and the others inside.
In Alexandr’s box, Pavel, Artem, and Oleg take three of the seats at the very front of the box.
Alexandr and I sit behind them with Igor on the other side of Alexandr. I don’t glance over when two men take their seats in the box next to ours.
Instead, I watch Alexandr, who also ignores them.
Good. However, before I turn to face the stage, I notice Igor watching Dominic and Alexi.
I wait to see if he expresses recognition, but luckily, Alexandr distracts him with a question.
The house lights dim, and the audience's murmurs settle into silence.
I lean forward in my seat without realizing I’ve done it.
The velvet curtain parts, and the stage fills with gold and soft pastel light, the court frozen in expectation.
I’ve seen The Sleeping Beauty before—more times than I can count, in more theaters than I can remember—but tonight something in my chest feels newly fragile.
Then she appears.
Anya does not enter so much as arrive. The Lilac Fairy glides onto the stage as if the air itself has learned how to carry her. Her white-blonde hair forms a halo beneath her crown, and the pale lavender of her tutu makes her seem less a woman than a promise.
I forget to breathe.
Her first movement is simple: an opening of the arms, slow and deliberate, as if she is holding the future between her palms. There is no rush, no attempt to dazzle.
She commands stillness, and the entire stage obeys.
I feel it then—how the ballet bends around her, how even the music seems to wait for her permission to continue.
I had thought beauty was something obvious.
Sharp. Immediate. But Anya’s beauty unfolds the way truth does—quietly, inevitably.
Each balance stretches just long enough to make the audience lean closer, afraid she might fall, only for her to remain perfectly, impossibly suspended—strength disguised as serenity.
My throat tightens.
She does not smile. Not truly. The Lilac Fairy does not need to.
Her expression holds compassion without softness, authority without cruelty.
When she turns, her gaze passes over the sleeping court—and for one impossible second, I am certain she sees me.
The sensation is absurd, intimate, and devastating.
I have admired dancers before. I have even loved some of them, or believed I did. But this—this is different. This feels like recognition.
As she moves, I begin to understand the role in my bones. We’re not meant to adore The Lilac Fairy; we’re meant to trust her. She does not burn. She endures. Watching Anya dance, I realize that falling in love with her would be the easiest thing in the world. As natural as breathing.
When she finishes her first variation, the silence stretches, reverent and stunned, before the applause rises. I do not clap at first. My hands rest heavy in my lap, my heart strangely full.
Only when the audience surges to its feet do I join them, the sound of my applause ringing through my palms like a vow.
Anya inclines her head in a controlled bow, serene and untouchable, and yet I feel more drawn to her than ever before. Not because she is distant—but because she is complete.
As the lights fade and the stage shifts, I remain still, her image burned into me.
The Lilac Fairy.
And somehow, impossibly, the woman I am already beginning to love.