Page 1

I sit at the breakfast table, picking at my plate of eggs and toast while my older brothers chatter about their plans for the day.

"Ivan's expecting the new designs for the casino by tomorrow," Abram, our eldest brother, says. "We have to nail this one. You know how hard he is to please."

That’s true. We arrived in Philadelphia just two weeks ago, and Ivan Zolotov, the most powerful Bratva cousin we have, has put my brothers straight to work from day one.

"Of course, we’ll nail it," Vladimir says. "Boris gave us all the details. Ivan’s investing a hundred million into it. As long as we can source the materials quickly, the project is ours."

"Imagine if we could secure the development contract," Mark muses, eyes shining with ambition. "It would be fantastic for our family."

They're ignoring me as usual, caught up in their quest to prove themselves. I sigh, longing to escape the dullness of my new life, which seems to get spectacularly more boring day by day. At least in Russia, I had my university classes to keep me busy. Here, in Philadelphia, I know no one and as a recent college graduate, there’s not much to do. "Will you be home tonight?"

Denis glances at me. "Why? Got a hot date?"

“She wouldn’t dare,” Abram warns. “You know you have to pass any man through us first, Sister.”

I purse my lips. As if any man would come close to a Zolotov sister without fearing for his head. "Just wondering. It gets dull here without you all, and you’re always working.”

"Maybe you could visit some museums today," Denis suggests, raising an eyebrow. "You know, take in the city's culture."

I think back to my monotonous life in Russia and keep my thoughts to myself. Museums? What I really want is to explore the vibrant city that never sleeps, to experience the world beyond our front door, but I know they'd never agree to that. So, I nod and say, "Sure, sounds like a plan." But inside, I'm already scheming.

"Stick close to home," Mark says. "It's not safe for a young woman in this city."

"I can take care of myself," I mutter.

"Do as you're told, Sestra . Philadelphia is different from our little town in Russia," Vladimir ruffles my hair as he passes, the patronizing gesture stoking my rebelliousness.” And take the chauffeur with you.”

They leave in a flurry of cologne and confidence, the door slamming behind them. I finish my eggs, deep in thought. They don't own me. I'm not a child anymore. And Philadelphia is my city too now.

I push away from the table, a plan forming in my mind. The housekeepers are used to me retiring to bed early. And my brothers will be out all night, focused on their work as always.

This is my chance—time for an adventure of my own.

***

I finish my dinner at a leisurely pace and leave the maids to clean up. I push through the heavy oak doors leading to my room. It's finally time. Tonight, I will break free from this dull-as-hell penthouse and experience the world for myself. Philadelphia City—a city that never sleeps! My heart races at the thought, a mixture of excitement and nerves coursing through me.

"God, I hope I don’t get caught," I whisper to myself, standing in front of my mirror. “My brothers will kill me.”

But if I return before two in the morning, it should be fine. From what I heard, the cousins are going to La Fantasia, Anoushka’s husband Nikolai’s gentleman’s club.

I scan my closet, looking for something that suits my rebellious mood. Something stylish yet inconspicuous. My fingers brush against a silky black dress, and I can't help but smile. Perfect. I slip it on, watching as the fabric clings to my curves. The neckline is daring, the hemline short enough to show off my legs but not too risqué.

After freshening up my makeup, I study my reflection. Long black hair, full lips, black eyes—the maids back in Russia always said I was a great beauty. But my brothers always like me dressed down, not wanting me to draw unnecessary attention.

If they have it their way, I’d stay single forever. With our parents dead, they’re more parental figures than friends. I can’t blame them. We were all so young when it happened.

I slip on a pair of heels, grab my purse, and apply a last layer of red lipstick. "Here goes nothing," I say to my reflection, offering a conspiratorial wink.

Making an effort to breathe as low as I can, I open my bedroom door and step into the dimly lit hallway. The house is quiet, the only sound the gentle hum of the air conditioning, the maids long since retired to their quarters. The coast is clear, but I know I need to be cautious. One wrong move and my brothers will find out, locking me away for good. But the possibility of adventure calls me forward.

As I tiptoe down the hall, I feel like a spy in some thrilling movie. My pulse quickens as I glance around the corner, making sure no one is there to catch me. Luck seems to be on my side, and I silently thank the universe for giving me this opportunity.

My heart hammers in my chest as I reach the front door. Just a few more steps, I tell myself, trying to keep my breathing even. I slide my hand into my purse, feeling for the key I'd swiped from the kitchen earlier, making sure I have a way back in.

I open the door gingerly and slip out, closing it quietly behind me. The anticipation builds inside me, a bubbling energy that begs to be released.

This is it—the life I've always wanted, if only for one night. I'm in Philadelphia City at last—the food, the music, the parties. Ready to discover all its wild, forbidden delights.

***

I wander the streets, dazzled by the lights and sounds. Everywhere, people are laughing, dancing, and living life to the fullest. No one cares who I am or where I've come from. Here, I can be anyone.

On a whim, I duck into a crowded jazz club. Thick cigar smoke and the wail of a trumpet fill the air. I claim an empty seat at the bar and order my first-ever cocktail, a Manhattan.

The liquor burns down my throat, firing my blood. I tap my foot to the music, watching the patrons move together on the dance floor. A group of girls catch my eye and notice I’m alone. They rush over, all charm and excitement.

"Care for a dance?" One of the girls grasps my hand. Caught up in their excitement, I throw caution to the wind.

"Why not?" Laughing, they rush me to the floor. We sway to the music and have a round of shots. I'm dizzy with the thrill of it, of being alive and free and wanted.

When the song ends, they ask, "Like to continue the party elsewhere?"

I refuse, knowing I should return home before I'm missed. They give me their phone numbers and ask me to join them again next Friday. I accept.

I take a cab back, staring at the dazzling lights. The city feels like my oyster, and I intend to savor every pearl.

***

The neon lights of the city dance across my face as I step onto the crowded sidewalk the next night, each color painting a new layer of excitement onto my skin. After last night, I’m hooked on this city.

"Hey, gorgeous! Want a drink?" a man calls out, his grin wide and inviting. I shake my head, feeling a strange mix of nervousness and exhilaration at the attention. It's so different from my life back home, where every interaction felt stifling and controlled.

As I weave through the bustling crowd, I marvel at the countless faces around me—people from every walk of life, each with their own story to tell. I can feel it in the air, an electric current of possibilities that sets my heart racing.

"A margarita, please," I say to the bartender at a buzzing rooftop bar, feeling oddly empowered by the simple act of ordering a drink on my own. With a nod, he slides the glasses toward me, and I take a cautious sip, savoring the tangy sweetness on my tongue.

"I noticed your accent. First time in the city?" a woman next to me asks, her eyes sparkling with mischief. I nod, suddenly finding myself engaged in conversation with a stranger, something I’ve never done before but am learning to enjoy.

"Welcome to the jungle," she laughs, raising her glass in a toast. "You're gonna love it here. Where are you from?"

We chat for what feels like hours, exchanging stories and laughter as the city lights shimmer below us.

"Hey, why don't you come with us?" the woman suggests, gesturing to her group of friends. "There's this amazing underground club we're heading to. You don't want to miss it."

"Sure," I agree without hesitation, my pulse quickening at the prospect of yet another adventure.

***

Over the next few weeks, I continue to explore the city's nightlife, often joining some of the girls I’d met on previous nights. From exclusive rooftop lounges to hidden speakeasies, I find myself drawn to the pulsating energy of these places like a moth to a flame. My days are spent anticipating the sun setting, and my nights are spent chasing the dawn—a delicious secret that remains mine alone.

"Here's to another unforgettable night," I whisper to myself as I step into yet another dimly lit bar, the music washing over me like a tidal wave. I lose myself in it, letting the rhythm carry me away.

"Hey, you look like you're enjoying yourself!" a voice calls out. I turn to see a tall man with dark hair and enticing eyes. There's something magnetic about him, and I can't help but feel drawn in.

"Can't help it," I reply, smiling. "The music is amazing."

"Mind if I join you?" he asks, already moving closer.

"Sure, why not?" I say, trying to play it cool.

***

My head is pounding. I slowly open my eyes, squinting at the bright sunlight streaming through the windows. For a moment, I'm disoriented, unsure of why I feel like I’ve been hit by a truck.

Then it all comes rushing back—the club, the drinks, that man buying me multiple rounds of shots. My stomach churns, and I have to take deep breaths to avoid being sick. What the hell happened last night?

The room spins around me as flashes of the night invade my thoughts. A murky haze hangs over my memories, making it difficult to recall the details. I see myself dancing with the pushy guy, his hands on my waist, his breath hot against my ear. But then the scene blurs, and panic rises in my chest. The images flicker and distort like an old film reel, leaving me disoriented and unsettled.

We went back to his apartment for a midnight dip.

Did I sleep with him?

God, I hope not. I can’t remember.

"Ugh," I groan as I try to piece together the events of the night. I swallow the bile that rises in my throat, struggling to chase away the nausea that grips me.

"Stupid, stupid, stupid," I mutter under my breath, cursing myself for letting things get so out of hand. My reckless pursuit of freedom has led me down a dangerous path, and I can't shake the feeling that I've made a terrible mistake.

I pull the covers up around me, trying to escape the harsh reality of my actions.

"Hey, are you alright?" a concerned voice asks from the doorway, jolting me from my thoughts. It's Abram, his brow furrowed with worry.

"Uh, yeah," I lie, forcing a weak smile onto my face. "Just a bit of a headache."

He nods, not entirely convinced, but doesn't press further. "Well, take it easy today, okay? I’ll send the maid with your breakfast. Should I call the doctor?"

“No need,” I insist.

He’s reluctant but agrees against the doctor before closing the door behind him.

I let out a shaky breath, relieved that he didn't question me further.

An hour later, the buzz of my phone startles me from my nap, and I reach for it.

"Hey, beautiful," the message reads from an unknown number. "Had a great time last night. Bet you did, too—I've got the pics to prove it."

I immediately sit up.

My stomach churns as I frantically scroll through the attached images, each one more explicit than the last. We’re kissing on his couch; I’m in my underwear in the pool, his hands under my bra. A video follows, showing me in a compromising position where I’m straddling him in the pool.

Though one can’t tell what’s happening exactly, it looks very, very bad.

"I can't believe you thought you could just walk away after getting me so hot and bothered," the next message reads. "You're gonna make this right, or everyone will see what a slut you really are."

I feel sick, bile rising in my throat as tears prick at the corners of my eyes. How could I have been so stupid? I thought I was being independent, but instead, I've fallen straight into his trap.

"Please," I text back, my hands shaking. "Don't do this. I didn't mean for any of this to happen."

"Should've thought about that before," he replies, his words cold and unforgiving. "Meet me this Saturday or your precious brothers find out how much of a whore their baby sister is. I found you on social media. Bring fifty grand, and this all goes away."

50 grand? I panic, realizing he’s blackmailing me. I can’t just withdraw that kind of cash without raising red flags with my brothers. I’ll probably have to pawn off my jewelry or something.

"Okay," I agree, desperation seeping into every fiber of my being. I’ll do whatever I have to. "Just please don't hurt me or my family."

"See you tonight, Babe," he texts, the threat lingering between us like a dark cloud. “I’ll send the location.”

As much as I want to curl up and cry, I know I need to act. My mind races, weighing the options before me. Do I tell my brothers and face their anger and disappointment?

My brothers have always been my protectors, shielding me from the harsh realities of the world. But if I go to them now, they'll only see it as confirmation that I can't handle myself—that I'm not strong enough to survive on my own.

I should handle it myself.

I jump out of bed and walk over to my locker. I take out a portion of my jewelry, outdated pieces that don’t hold much sentimental value. A diamond set I received from a distant aunt, some gold coins, and a pair of solitaire earrings that I received on my 16th birthday from an uncle.

This would do. After tonight, I make a promise to myself that I’ll be careful who I accept drinks from.