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5

Yelena

Two Weeks Later

The days leading up to the visit blur together in a whirlwind of preparation. On the morning of the meeting, I sit in my room, staring at my reflection in the mirror. My twin sister, Alina, and Scarlett hover behind me, their chatter a comforting distraction.

“This one,” Alina says, holding up a sleek black dress. “It’s intimidating, but elegant. Perfect for scaring off potential husbands.”

Scarlett chuckles, though there’s a note of concern in her voice. “You know, it’s not too late to back out of this.” She meets my gaze in the mirror. “You deserve more than a loveless marriage, Yelena.”

I smile faintly, appreciating her sincerity, but knowing better. “I already told your husband that not everyone is as lucky as you two, Scarlett,” I say, looking directly at her. “In our world, love is a luxury. Survival is the priority.”

Scarlett sighs, but she doesn’t argue. Together, the three of us prepare, their teasing and support bolstering my confidence. By the time I’m dressed, my nerves have settled into a simmering anticipation.

When the Greeks arrive, the atmosphere shifts. From the window, Alina, Scarlett, and I watch as a fleet of luxury cars pulls into the driveway, their sleek designs gleaming under the midday sun. The men who step out are massive, their tailored suits doing little to hide their imposing physiques. The Elliniki’s power, just like the Bratva’s, is unmistakable, radiating in their every movement and glance. I pull back from the window after deciding to stay out of sight.

Finally, it’s time. I’m called into the room, my steps measured and deliberate. My heels click against the marble floor as I walk into the business room. The sound echoes in the stillness, amplifying the tension that seems to hang in the air like a dense fog. My heart pounds against my ribcage, a steady rhythm of anticipation and dread. My gaze sweeps over the gathered Greeks before landing on an unexpected figure. And my world stops.

Oh, no! It’s him. Vasil. The man from the bar. My one-night stand!

Shock courses through me, my mind racing to make sense of the impossible. His pewter-gold eyes meet mine, and for a moment, everything else fades. The room, the people, the weight of our families’ expectations—all of it dissolves in the intensity of his gaze.

What if his brother is my intended groom? This must be a fucking dream.

I force myself to breathe, to steady the chaos within me. But it’s no use. I’m caught, trapped in a web I never saw coming.

Vasil’s expression shifts subtly, a flicker of recognition flashing across his face. He’s surprised, but only for a moment. Then his mask of control slips back into place, his posture casual yet commanding.

The introductions are made, and I somehow manage to play my part. My voice is steady despite the storm raging inside me. A sense of relief floods through me when the Greek spokesperson introduces him as Aithan Vasilios. The only son of their current leader, Sabastian Vasilios. But when our eyes meet again, it’s clear we’re not done. This is only the beginning.

After the introductions, I slide into the seat beside my brother, the leather cool against my skin. My hands fold neatly in my lap, a practiced posture of composure, but my fingers twitch slightly. I glance around the room, taking in the stern faces of our Greek counterparts. The tension in the air is palpable, a silent battle of wills even before a single word is spoken.

Viktor catches my eye briefly, his expression hard as granite, then shifts his focus back to the table. He doesn’t need to say anything. His presence alone commands respect, his authority unquestionable. And yet, there’s a weight to his gaze when it lands on me, a silent acknowledgment of what this meeting means for me personally.

Sebastian Vasilios speaks first, his deep voice filling the room with authority. “Thank you for welcoming us, Makarov. It’s an honor to discuss matters that will benefit both of our organizations.” His words are polite, but there’s a subtle edge to them, a reminder of the power he wields.

I watch as Viktor nods, his own voice equally measured. “The Bratva values strong alliances, especially with families who understand the weight of responsibility.”

Sabastian continues speaking with a quiet dominance, his words precise and deliberate. As he speaks, I can’t help but observe the power dynamics at play. The Greeks exude confidence, their movements and expressions speaking volumes about their status and strength. Viktor matches their energy effortlessly, his presence filling the room with an unspoken challenge.

My gaze flickers to Vasil. I mean Aithan again. His eyes meet mine, and my breath hitches. There’s something in his gaze—a flicker of doubt, perhaps, or a silent challenge of his own. It’s unnerving and thrilling all at once, and I force myself to look away, focusing on the steady rhythm of Viktor’s voice as he prepares to state our terms.

Viktor clears his throat, his voice cutting through the tension like a blade. “Let’s get to the matter at hand. The Bratva’s terms are simple: a fifty-fifty share of the profits from the European ammunition market.”

His words hang in the air, heavy and deliberate. He doesn’t flinch, his gaze sweeping over the Greeks with an intensity that leaves no room for argument. This is Viktor in his element, a master negotiator who knows exactly how to wield his power.

Sebastian’s expression doesn’t change, but there’s a spark of irritation in his eyes. The Greeks exchange subtle glances, their silent communication almost imperceptible. The tension in the room thickens, and I hold my breath, waiting for their response.

The Greeks’ initial refusal is evident in their stiff postures and the hard lines of their faces. One of their leaders, who was earlier introduced as Orestes, leans toward Sebastian, whispering something in his ear. Sebastian nods slightly before turning his attention back to Viktor.

“Fifty-fifty is a steep demand, Viktor,” Sebastian says evenly. “The Elliniki has worked tirelessly to secure this deal. Surely, a seventy-thirty split would be more equitable.”

Viktor’s jaw tightens, but he doesn’t waver. “The Bratva’s role in this operation is equally crucial. We’ll be handling logistics, transportation, and ensuring the shipments pass through without interference. Fifty-fifty is not a demand; it’s a necessity to grease the right hands, and shut the big mouths.”

Sebastian’s lips press into a thin line, but he says nothing. The room is silent except for the faint hum of the air conditioning. I steal a glance at Aithan, who appears unaffected by the rising tension. His calmness is almost infuriating, but I can’t deny the strength it projects.

Just when it seems like the negotiation is reaching a stalemate, Aithan speaks. His voice is smooth, low, and commanding. “We accept the terms.”

The room falls silent, all eyes turning to him. Sebastian looks at his son sharply, but Aithan doesn’t flinch. He leans back in his chair, his gaze steady as it meets Viktor’s.

“The Bratva’s involvement is essential,” Aithan continues. “Considering the amount of work they will put in, a fifty-fifty split is fair.”

His words cut through the tension like a knife, and I feel a shiver run down my spine. His tone leaves no room for debate, and for a moment, even Viktor seems taken aback. My gaze meets Aithan’s again, and the intensity in his eyes sends a jolt of electricity through me. I swallow hard, forcing myself to stay composed.

The meeting continues, the tension easing slightly as the terms are finalized. My focus wavers as memories of the night with Aithan flood my mind. The way his hands had felt on my skin, the heat of his breath against my neck… My cheeks flush, and I quickly look away, willing the memories to fade.

Aithan catches my glance, his expression unreadable. There’s a silent acknowledgment between us, a connection that’s impossible to ignore. It’s maddening, and yet, I can’t help but be drawn to him.

As the negotiations draw to a close, Viktor leans forward, his voice firm. There's one more condition.

Aithan looks at him with a raised eyebrow.

"I insist on a safety clause for my sister.”

The room tenses again, the weight of his words hanging heavily in the air. Viktor’s gaze moves from Sebastian and locks onto Aithan, unyielding. “I demand assurances for my sister's safety within this arrangement. Too many women in our world have been used as pawns. They have been used to acquire what is needed and then disposed of. That won’t happen to Yelena. If a hair from her head so much as falls off, I will be coming for retribution.”

To my surprise, Aithan speaks up immediately before anyone can demand Viktor take back his ridiculous clause. “Agreed.”

His response is swift and certain, catching everyone off guard. Even Viktor seems momentarily stunned. Aithan’s eyes meet mine, and for the first time, I see something in his gaze that feels almost… genuine. It’s unsettling, and yet, a strange warmth spreads through me.

“Then we’re in agreement,” Sebastian says, his voice breaking the silence. “The marriage will take place as soon as possible.”

My stomach tightens at his words. The reality of the situation crashes over me like a tidal wave. This is happening. My life is no longer my own.

As everyone rises from their seats, I follow suit, my movements mechanical. My mind is a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions, each one more chaotic than the last. Before I can leave the room, Aithan steps forward.

“Miss Makarov,” he says softly, his voice drawing my attention. “May I have a word?”

Viktor’s gaze flickers between us, his expression unreadable. After a moment, he nods. “Don’t keep her long.”

My heart pounds as I lead Aithan into a smaller room, the door clicking shut behind us.

In the quiet of the room, Aithan turns to face me, his eyes searching mine. Without warning, he steps closer, his hands resting lightly on my arms. “Tell me something,” he says, his voice low. “Did you plan this?”

I blink, startled. “Plan what?”

“This,” he says, gesturing between us. “To have me marry you.”

“You seem to forget that you and your Elliniki are in my house asking me to marry you. Not the other way round.”

“So you just gave yourself to me without any ulterior motive? Did you do it to secure this arrangement?”

Anger flares in my chest, and I pull away from his grasp. “Don’t flatter yourself,” I snap. “I had no say in this. Neither did I know who you were two weeks ago.”

His lips quirk into a small smile, but there’s no humor in it. “I hope this is true. Because I don’t believe in coincidences.”

“I don’t give a fuck what you believe.” I say, feeling anger bubbling inside me. “Besides, it's not too late to withdraw.”

“Would you like me to do that?”

“I couldn't care less.”

“Your body says you are lying.” He leans down staring into my soul. With his lips inches from mine.

Before I can respond, the door swings open, and Alina steps in. Her eyes widen slightly as she takes in the scene, but she quickly recovers, her usual playful smile lighting up her face.

“Am I interrupting?” she asks sweetly.

Aithan’s gaze shifts to her, his expression momentarily startled as he takes in another copy of me. “You are a twin?” he asks, his tone more curious than anything.

“That we are,” Alina replies, stepping further into the room. She turns to me, her smile softening. “I hear congratulations are in order, sister. And to you too, Mr. Vasilios.”

I watch Aithan's discomfort and realize that basic conversation is a struggle for him. But he wasn’t shy two weeks ago.

“Yeah.” He finally replies.

“Well, this is going to be quite the adventure for you.” Alina pretends whispers to me.

Her words break the tension, and I can’t help but laugh softly, though the sound is tinged with irony. An adventure. That’s one way to describe this setup. As Aithan steps back, I meet his gaze one last time, a silent promise lingering between us. Whatever this is, it’s far from over.

“Nice meeting you, Miss Makarov.” He turns to Alina, tilting an imaginary hat towards her.

“Oh, please call me Alina.” My idiot sister says, beaming like the moon.