Page 2

T en years ago.

“But Dad, I don’t want to babysit tonight! I want to go with you and Mom tonight!” I whined and slumped down harder than I meant to on the cold marble floor.

“Dochen’ka, do not sit so hard,” Dad scolded, his voice stern but also showing compassion.

“Sorry, Dad,” I muttered, knowing how he hated for any of us to hurt ourselves.

“I understand, and I know you are in a rush to grow up. But I wish you would slow down, for my sake. You have so much time, Dochen’ka . Come, your sister and your cousins wait for you,” he said, and held out his hand.

But he didn’t understand. I was not a kid like the rest of them.

At seventeen, surely, I was old enough to accompany my parents and aunts and uncles to the gala.

While my younger sister and cousins played games and giggled at silly videos, I dreamed of being part of my parents’ world.

I wanted to sit at the adult table. To join their conversations and offer my own unique perspectives.

A book nerd since birth practically, I was not like the other girls I knew at the exclusive Manhattan school I went to. A place where the wealthy and famous sent their kids to be educated.

I felt an invisible barrier separating me from all the rest. Sure, I was a Volkov, but I didn’t fit in.

My parents had a love story that rivaled the couples in the romance novels my mother wrote and forbade me to read.

Of course, I snuck them anyway. How could I resist? Z. Wolff was quite the name in the book world. We were all so proud of her, and my aunt Destiny, who narrated her books.

I always had to read them in secret.

As my father’s first daughter, he was not ready for me to grow up. I knew that, but I was ready.

So ready.

Ever since I saw him at Dad’s office, I’d been trying to get everyone to take me more seriously.

Tonight was the night I’d finally get them to pay attention.

I could just picture it. Me, in my fancy dress, and him , in his tux. The glittering chandeliers, the soft lighting, and all the elegantly dressed guests mingling around us.

The string quartet all in black and the servers unobtrusively delivering food and drink to all the beautiful people I was desperate to connect with. But none so much as him .

My secret crush.

Liam O’Doyle.

I could just imagine it! My parents and aunts and uncles swirling around the dance floor in shades of silver, blue, pink, and black—their signature colors.

Laughter would ring out like music.

Food and drink would be consumed happily.

A fantastic time would be had by all.

Liam would ask me to dance. He’d spin me around the floor and waltz us both into a shadowy corner where he would steal a kiss or two.

I felt my heart racing as my longing grew. I stood up again, facing my father and ready to argue my case.

Adrik Volkov was a powerful man, intimidating as hell. But I never once doubted my father’s love for me or our family.

But he could be a tad unhinged, or protective , as he liked to call it.

“Dad, I want to go. Please,” I said and felt the soft fabric of my formal gown against my skin as nerves made my palms sweat.

“You’re just a child, Dochen’ka. This is not the place for you,” Dad replied, dismissing me.

God, I hated how those words hung in the air like a thick fog, clouding my excitement.

Did my father really believe that? Did he see this as some childish whim, mistaking the young woman I was?

The one who was so like him.

I’d been studying the world around me, absorbing the nuances of life, and I wanted in.

I wanted in right now.

But how did I prove my point?

How could I show him I wasn’t just a kid playing dress up?

I frowned and sucked in a breath, but I was cut off by a booming voice I knew well.

“Is that you, Michaela? Wow! I hardly recognized you. You look so grown up,” Uncle Marat said as he walked into the study.

I could tell by the impassive expression on Dad’s face I was not going to win. I’d plead my case to deaf ears.

“You’re early,” Dad told his little brother as he poured them both a small vodka.

“Hi Uncle Marat,” I mumbled.

I was upset, but somewhat pleased that at least one person noticed my efforts to fit in tonight.

I was wearing a long aquamarine formal dress. It was the same one I wore for my junior prom.

It was pretty and glamorous, and the cut was flattering for my fuller figure.

Totally appropriate for a fancy black tie event like this one.

Mom was one of those true classic beauties.

I was lucky to have inherited her pale skin and chestnut locks.

But I had my father’s devil eyes and his features.

My face was just a little too angular to be pretty, but I was fine with that.

As for my size, well, I was raised in a family that appreciated bigger women. The kind of women society was finally recognizing through body positivity campaigns on social media.

Health was important. But so was loving yourself.

Even though I was only five foot six inches short, I weighed a hundred and eighty-three pounds. My stomach was soft, my thighs thick, and my breasts were too damn big to wear under-wire comfortably.

It was why I liked this gown. It had a built in shelf bra. Mom made sure of it when we visited her favorite couture shop, Von Wang’s.

“You should change before joining the others, Dochen’ka . This is not good for movie night.”

My father was always so serious. He hated miscommunications, and he was always very clear when he spoke.

I bit my lower lip to stop it from wobbling, and nodded, leaving the room to get changed.

He was right. I couldn’t wear this for movie night with the cousins.

At last he allowed me to invite my best friend to sleep over. Shelly, aka Michelle Davis, my BFF, was going to babysit for me if he said yes, and if he didn’t, we would just hang out.

Yeah, I needed a dose of judgement-free best friend advice.

Shelly would know exactly what to say to take the sting out of this rejection.

The doorbell rang, and I ran to get it, hoping Shelly had arrived early so I could commiserate with her.

But of course, it wasn’t Michelle at the door.

It was him .

The man I had been dreaming about for months.

Liam O’Doyle.

Imagine for a second that your father ran a multi-billion dollar company where you were working as an intern on weekends and after school.

Now imagine you ran into a dark, sinful version of Prince Eric from The Little Mermaid every time you went to the office.

He was simply stunning.

A tall, muscular, dark-haired, stormy-eyed genius. I knew from my uncles Liam was a wizard with technology.

More important than all that, the man made my poor tortured teenaged heart ache with longing.

Of course, he never noticed me.

Not only was I years younger than the man, but I was the daughter of the Dark Wolf.

Oh, Dad never shared those stories about himself with me, but I wasn’t some stupid twit.

I heard the stories, knew the rumors, and I was smart enough to believe them.

“Hello, Michaela, isn’t it?” he said, his expression unreadable.

He doesn’t even know my name.

My stomach plummeted, but I still stood there, drinking him in. Like some idiot who’d just gone mute.

“I thought prom was last month,” Liam said.

His dark brows furrowed as he looked at the dress I’d been so proud of just a moment ago. I felt foolish now.

Too young.

Na?ve.

Silly, Micky.

You’re just a silly girl.

“It was,” I whispered my reply.

“Oh. Uh, is your father here?” he asked, scratching the back of his head.

“Yeah. Through there,” I pointed down the hall, feeling more miserable now than ever.

Even Liam was going tonight.

Liam O’Doyle with his midnight locks and emerald eyes. God, he was so cute.

Ugh. Why couldn’t I be older?

The sound of laughter and high heels clacking told me my mother and aunts were coming downstairs, and just like I predicted they were there a moment later.

“Good evening, ladies. You all look divine this evening,” Liam said smoothly, offering a respectful bow.

“Thank you. Liam, isn’t it?” Mom asked, smiling.

She turned her head, noticing me, and I tugged on my dress, feeling an even bigger fool now that everyone else was looking too.

“Michaela! What’s going on, Pudge? Why are you dressed up?”

Oh. My. God.

“Excuse me, I must see your husband about something,” Liam murmured, excusing himself.

My cheeks were on fire.

Did my mom really just call me Pudge in front of him?

How freaking embarrassing!

Never in my life had I wished a hole would just open up and swallow me as much as I did right then.

“Forget it,” I muttered, turning to run straight to my room.

I ignored my mom as she shouted after me. She wouldn’t understand. My mom and dad could not possibly comprehend what it meant to be their kid. The pressure I was under.

Everyone assumed Adrik Volkov’s daughter was nothing more than a bauble. A little doll to dress up and take out for special occasions.

They assumed my father bought my grades.

That everything I did, he got for me.

All my hard work. The years I’d spent proving myself. None of it mattered!

Straight A’s.

Top scorer on the soccer team.

Never any cavities.

Always did what I was told.

Not a toe out of line.

I hated it when I felt this way. Like I was suffocating, trapped inside my own skin, fighting for air but only finding more pressure with every breath.

It was bad of me, I knew that. I shouldn’t feel this way. Maybe I was spoiled and ungrateful—just a child who wasn’t satisfied with everything she’d been given.

I felt selfish for not appreciating the life I had, for wanting more when so many people would give anything to have what I did.

I appreciate it.

Of course, I did. My family, my friends, the opportunities that had come my way—I was lucky, I knew that.

And I loved my family.

My parents were amazing. They’d worked hard to give me a life of comfort, to set me up in a world that many could only dream of.

Their hard work, their love, all of it had shaped me into who I was. But even as I recognized that, a hollow space inside me only seemed to grow wider.

Was it so wrong to want to earn something, to just be something for myself sometimes?

To feel like I wasn’t just living for the sake of living up to others’ expectations?

It didn’t mean I didn’t love them or the rest of my family.

But deep down, I wanted more than just the role I’d been given.

The dutiful daughter.

The one who had everything handed to her.

It was like everyone else saw me as the perfect picture, the one who had it all together, who didn’t need anything.

The truth was, I was scared to admit how much I was suffocating under the weight of that image.

But here I was, feeling small, invisible in a world where I was supposed to shine.

I felt like I was drowning in my own mediocrity—standing on the sidelines of my own life, watching everyone else move forward while I remained unnoticed.

The harder I tried to bury that bad feeling, the more it threatened to consume me.

I wanted to go tonight to try to fit in with the grownups, because I knew I didn’t fit in with the kids. Not anymore.

I was stuck in that in between place, and it sucked ass. I wasn’t sure where to go, what to do, or how to even begin finding what I needed to feel like I was really real.

The worst part? It wasn’t just the suffocating weight of the pressure or the expectations—it was the quiet, gnawing feeling that nobody saw me for me.

No one ever had. Not really.

And that realization was one I couldn’t escape.

It was always “set a good example, Michaela,” or “watch your cousins and your sister, Michaela.” But I wanted more than that.

I wanted a seat at the adult table.

I wanted to be taken seriously.

I wanted someone to see me.

I wished that someone was Liam. But I’d been sent back inside to watch movies with the rest of my cousins and my little sister because all they would ever see when they looked at me was a kid.

When was it going to be my turn?