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17

Scarlett

The sound of the door creaking open pulls me out of my thoughts. I sit up on the bed, clutching a pillow to my chest as Yelena and Alina step into the room. There’s an energy about them, vibrant and mischievous, that makes it impossible not to be curious.

"Scarlett," Alina begins, her tone light and inviting. "We’re having a movie night. You should join us."

My eyes widen slightly. A movie night? My curiosity spikes as I picture the three of us sneaking out of this mansion and into a local theater. The idea is almost laughable, given the fortress-like nature of this place, but it’s a surprisingly pleasant suggestion.

"Where are we going?" I ask, tilting my head. "Are there theaters nearby?"

Alina exchanges a look with Yelena, and they burst into laughter. "Oh, Scarlett," Alina says, wiping a tear of amusement from her eye. "We’re not leaving the house. This mansion has its private theater."

“Of course it does.” My lips twitch with disbelief. "Let me guess, there’s also a helipad?"

Yelena smirks, raising an eyebrow. "Obviously," she replies, as though the absence of a helipad would be unthinkable.

My mouth falls open, and I almost trip over my own feet. "You’re kidding," I say, trying to gauge if they’re pulling my leg.

"Nope. It’s on the east wing," Alina chimes in, her voice so matter-of-fact it borders on smug.

"Of course it is," I mutter under my breath, shaking my head as I follow them out of the room. This place continues to surprise me, its extravagance bordering on ridiculous.

As we wind through the endless halls of the mansion, I can’t help but marvel at its sheer size. Every corner we turn reveals something new—an antique vase, a stunning painting, or a gilded mirror that looks like it belongs in a museum. By the time we reach the theater, I’m already overwhelmed.

But when the double doors swing open, my breath catches in my throat. The room is massive, its walls lined with plush velvet drapes, and the seats are more luxurious than any I’ve seen in a public theater. A crystal chandelier hangs overhead, casting a warm, inviting glow.

"Is this … normal for you guys?" I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.

"For us? Yes," Yelena says with a shrug, as though it’s nothing.

"Unbelievable," I mutter, my gaze sweeping across the room.

Yelena picks up a phone mounted to the wall and rings the kitchen. "We’ll need popcorn and drinks," she says, her tone brisk. "Caramel for me."

"And caramel-cheddar mix for me," Alina adds, grinning.

Both of them turn to me expectantly. I hesitate, knowing I can’t stomach anything too flavorful these days. "Just plain popcorn," I say, earning a look of confusion from both twins.

"Plain?" Yelena asks, raising an eyebrow. "Why?"

"Pregnancy," I reply with a sigh. "Flavors make me sick. And trust me, if you don’t want to be cleaning up my puke, plain is the way to go."

Yelena rolls her eyes. "Fine. Plain it is."

A few minutes later, housekeeper Anna arrives with a tray of snacks and drinks. The twins dive into their colorful popcorn while I take a glass of water and a steaming cup of ginger tea. The scent calms my queasy stomach, and I sip it gratefully.

"Let’s pick a movie," Yelena says, plopping onto one of the chairs and grabbing the remote.

Scrolling through the options is an ordeal in itself. Yelena insists on horror, her eyes lighting up at every bloody trailer. Alina waves her off, declaring that tonight calls for romance.

"And what about you, Scarlett?" Alina asks.

"Thriller," I reply without hesitation. "Something with suspense."

The three of us glance at each other, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife. Finally, Alina grabs some paper and writes down our choices. "We’ll draw lots," she declares, rolling the papers into tiny balls.

When she picks one, it turns out to be her own: romance. Yelena groans loudly, and Alina spends another ten minutes deciding which film we will watch.

As the movie begins, Yelena’s irritation is palpable. She mutters sarcastic remarks under her breath, her disdain for the genre evident.

"You’re rolling your eyes so hard, I’m worried they’ll get stuck," I tease, earning a chuckle from Alina.

"It’s just so unrealistic," Yelena retorts, gesturing at the screen. "Nobody falls in love like that."

"Do you have something against love?" I ask, genuinely curious.

"No," she replies. "I just don’t buy the fairy tale nonsense."

I lean back against the plush seat, the warmth of my ginger tea soothing my stomach as I glance at Yelena. Her irritation over the movie is almost comical, her sharp comments punctuating every romantic scene.

"Unrealistic," she mutters as the male lead professes his undying love within thirty minutes of meeting the heroine. "No man says things like that unless he’s trying to scam you."

"Wow," I reply, turning to her. "You’re jaded, aren’t you?"

She raises an eyebrow, not missing a beat. "I prefer ‘realistic.’ Romance isn’t sunshine and roses, Scarlett. It’s messy and complicated, and in our world, it’s transactional."

Alina sighs beside her twin, giving me a small smile. "Don’t mind her. She’s always been like this. Our brother would say the same thing."

Her words make me pause, and Viktor’s face flickers in my mind. His gruff demeanor and commanding presence are so far removed from the idealistic notion of love in this movie. "I don’t think all love is fake," I say, my voice quieter now.

Yelena scoffs but doesn’t argue further. Instead, she turns back to the screen, her arms crossed.

But I insist, my voice firm. "I’ve seen it. My parents had it."

Alina perks up, her curiosity evident. "Really? What were they like?"

I smile softly, memories flooding back. "They were inseparable. Mom used to joke that Dad couldn’t tie his shoes without her. He was her rock, and she was his light. Even when things got tough, they always found their way back to each other."

Yelena’s expression softens slightly, though she tries to hide it. "We were too young to remember our parents together," she says after a moment. "And Bratva men ... they don’t exactly do love."

Her words bring Viktor back to my mind, his hard exterior and the storm that always seems to follow him. I shake the thought away, focusing on my parents instead.

"I still believe in marrying for love," Alina says suddenly, her voice filled with quiet conviction.

Yelena lets out a dry laugh. "And how do you think that’s going to work, Alina? Women like us don’t get to choose. Marriages are alliances, not fairy tales. We’re pawns in a bigger game."

The bluntness of her words sends a chill down my spine. I glance at Alina, whose hopeful expression falters slightly. The tension between the twins is palpable, their opposing views clashing like thunder and lightning.

"Is that what you believe?" I ask Yelena, unable to keep the edge out of my voice.

She shrugs, her gaze unwavering. "It’s not about belief, Scarlett. It’s reality. You’re lucky you’re not part of this world."

Yelena leans back in her chair, her tone casual as she drops a bombshell. "Before our father’s assassination, he was negotiating with the leader of the Greek mob to marry me off to his son."

I sit up straighter, the words hitting me like a punch to the gut. "Wait—what? Would you have gone through with it?"

The surprise and confusion in my voice must look comical because Yelena chuckles, shaking her head. "I would’ve had no choice," she says. "And I had hoped Viktor would reopen the negotiations."

"Reopen them?" I echo, my disbelief mounting. "You’re okay with that?"

Her nonchalant shrug is infuriating. "It’s what’s expected of us. Besides, I’d rather marry strategically than end up with some useless idiot who can’t even hold a gun."

Her words make my stomach churn. I’ve known for a while now that Viktor’s world is different—darker, more ruthless—but hearing Yelena talk about marriage as a business deal drives it home in a way that feels personal.

"If I have a daughter," I say slowly caressing my tummy, my voice steady despite the fire burning inside me, "no one will use her as a bargaining chip. She won’t be a pawn in anyone’s game."

The twins exchange a glance, but neither of them argues. For a moment, I see something flicker in Alina’s eyes—hope, maybe, or admiration.

Alina’s voice cuts through the tension, light, and teasing. "What about Viktor?"

I freeze, the question catching me off guard. "What about him?"

"You’re carrying his child," she says with a sly smile. "Surely, that’s a connection worth exploring. There may be the possibility of softening a Pakhan’s heart."

"No," I reply, my voice firm. The thought is ridiculous, and yet my cheeks heat as I speak.

"Why not?" Alina presses, clearly enjoying herself.

"Because ..." I struggle for words, finally settling on the simplest truth. "It would never work."

“Considering your condition, it worked once.” Yelena chuckles.

“Sex is different from love.”

“Then carry on having the sex till you find love. Especially if it was good.”

"Hell no," I say emphatically, my voice full of finality. “I’d rather caress a porcupine.”

The room erupts into laughter, the tension dissolving like sugar in water. Even Yelena cracks a smile, her earlier skepticism momentarily forgotten.

For the first time in what feels like forever, I feel a sense of camaraderie. These women—so different from me in every way—are becoming more than just Viktor’s sisters. They’re becoming allies, maybe even friends.

As the movie continues, I lean back and let myself relax, the sound of laughter filling the room. For now, the darkness outside this mansion feels a little less oppressive, and the future, though uncertain, doesn’t seem quite so daunting.