Page 7

6

Yelena

That Evening

A sharp knock on my door pulls me from my thoughts. I straighten, smoothing the fabric of my blouse as I call out, “Come in.” The door swings open to reveal Viktor, his imposing frame silhouetted against the light from the hallway. His face is a familiar mask of seriousness, but there’s a flicker of something softer in his eyes—support, perhaps.

“Yelena,” he begins, stepping into the room and closing the door behind him. His voice is low, measured. “Are you sure about this?”

I blink, startled by the question. Of all the things Viktor could ask me tonight, I hadn’t expected this. He takes a seat on the edge of the chair near my vanity, his movements deliberate and unhurried. “This marriage… It’s a significant step. I need to know if you’re truly committed.”

For a moment, I’m at a loss for words because not many ladies in my world get a say in who they marry. But I am not surprised at Viktor's willingness to allow me to make my own choices. He has become my protector and my shield against the brutal realities of our world. His concern is evident in the slight furrow of his brow and the tight set of his jaw. And in this moment, he is not just a Bratva leader seeking to strengthen his reign, but he is my brother, wanting the best for me.

I meet his gaze, drawing strength from the unwavering certainty within me. “I’m sure,” I say firmly, my voice steady. “I understand what’s at stake. This marriage isn’t just about me, Viktor. It’s about the Bratva, about solidifying our alliances. I’m ready for this.”

He studies me for a long moment, his sharp eyes searching for any sign of doubt. But I hold my ground, my expression unflinching. I’ve thought about this—long and hard. I know what’s expected of me, and I’ve accepted it.

“You’ve always been strong,” he finally says, a hint of pride creeping into his voice. “Stronger than most give you credit for. If anyone can handle this, it’s you.”

His words warm me, and a glimpse of affection breaks through his usually stoic exterior. He rises, resting a hand briefly on my shoulder. “If you ever change your mind, Yelena, you’ll tell me.” It’s not a question; it’s a command. I nod, appreciating the reassurance beneath his authoritative tone. With that, he exits the room, leaving me alone with my thoughts.

The quiet settles around me like a heavy blanket, and I take a moment to absorb the conversation. Viktor’s trust means everything to me, but it also adds weight to the responsibility I’ve chosen to bear. I exhale slowly, trying to shake off the lingering tension.

The door bursts open again, this time with far less ceremony. Scarlett and Alina stride in, their energy palpable. Scarlett’s red hair is a fiery halo around her face, her green eyes sparkling with mischief. Alina, my mirror image, looks equally vibrant, her electric blue eyes gleaming with curiosity.

“Sister dearest,” Alina sings, flopping onto my bed. “How does it feel to be engaged to the Greek god of crime?”

“Alina,” I groan, rolling my eyes. “Why must you be so poetic about everything?”

Scarlett laughs, perching herself on the edge of the vanity table. “Oh, come on, Yelena. You can’t deny he’s… magnetic.”

“Magnetic?” I repeat, arching a brow. “That’s what we’re calling it now?”

“Seeing how drawn you are to him, what better word do we need?”

“I am not drawn to him.” I deny it hotly.

Scarlett and Alina share a look, their teasing smiles widening. “You’re blushing,” Alina accuses, pointing a finger at me. “Oh, this is rich. Our devil may care Yelena is blushing over a man.”

“I’m not blushing,” I snap, though my cheeks betray me by growing warmer. “This is a strategic alliance. Nothing more.” However, the thought of how Aithan devoured me points otherwise.

“Strategic alliance,” Scarlett echoes, her tone dripping with amusement. “Sure. And I’m a saint.”

I throw a pillow at her, which she deftly dodges, her laughter filling the room. Despite my annoyance, I can’t help but smile. Their teasing is a welcome distraction from the storm of emotions swirling inside me.

“Okay, but seriously,” Alina says, sitting up and fixing me with a pointed look. “What’s the deal with you and Aithan? When I walked in on you two earlier, it didn’t exactly scream ‘strategic alliance.’”

My stomach twists, and I fight to keep my expression neutral. “We were talking,” I say simply, shrugging as if it’s no big deal.

“Talking?” Alina repeats, her blue eyes narrowing. “I’ve seen plenty of men talk to women, but none of them looks at them like he was looking at you.”

“You’re both reading too much into this,” I insist, my tone firmer now. “It was nothing.”

But the knowing glances they exchange tell me they don’t believe a word I’ve said. Scarlett rests her chin on her hand, her smile softening. “Was it love at first sight?” she asks, her voice a mix of jest and genuine curiosity.

“No,” I reply quickly, a little too quickly. “It wasn’t love. It… it was nothing.”

“Nothing,” Alina echoes, her tone skeptical. “Sure, sister. Whatever you say.”

I stand abruptly, moving to the dresser to grab my nightclothes. “This conversation is over,” I declare, hoping to put an end to their relentless teasing.

“Fine, fine,” Scarlett says, raising her hands in mock surrender. “We’ll stop. For now.”

As they continue to chat, I prepare for bed, my movements deliberate yet distracted. My thoughts drift to Aithan despite my best efforts to focus on the present. His intense gaze, the way his voice seemed to wrap around me like a velvet cord… It’s infuriating how easily he occupies my mind.

After Scarlett and Alina leave, the room feels impossibly quiet. I sit on the edge of my bed, staring at the phone on my nightstand. A sudden pang of frustration hits me as I realize I don’t even have Aithan’s number. The thought gnaws at me, a mix of regret and something deeper, something I’m not ready to name.

With a sigh, I slide under the covers, my mind still racing. The weight of the day’s events presses down on me, but so does the anticipation of what’s coming. I don’t know what the future holds, but one thing is certain: Aithan Vasilios has already turned my world upside down.

I stare at the ceiling, the faint glow of the moonlight casting shadows across the room. My thoughts are a chaotic swirl of emotions—uncertainty, anticipation, and something that feels dangerously close to hope. I’ve made my decision, and there’s no turning back now. Whatever challenges lie ahead, I’ll face them head-on. I have to.

Finally, I close my eyes, my resolve firm even as my heart remains conflicted. Tomorrow is a new day, and I’ll be ready for whatever it brings.

Aithan

The gym reeks of sweat and determination. The thudding rhythm of my fists against the heavy bag drowns out the low noise from the overhead lights. My knuckles burn under the gloves as I land punch after punch, switching between rapid jabs, forceful crosses, and bone-rattling hooks. The bag swings wildly on its chain, the metal squeaking in protest. I tighten my focus, moving with precision and power, a relentless storm of energy.

Leon leans casually against the wall nearby, his towel draped around his neck. He’s already finished his workout, his face glistening with the remnants of his exertion. While I’m pouring every ounce of my frustration into the bag, he’s content to watch, his smirk audible before he even opens his mouth.

“You keep going like that, and you’ll knock the chain clean off,” he quips, his voice light. “Though I guess I can’t blame you. Wedding nerves, huh?”

I pause mid-swing, letting the bag sway back and forth as I turn to glare at him. “Wedding nerves? Really?”

Leon shrugs, his smirk widening. “I mean, it’s not every day you get shackled to a Bratva princess. I’d say you’re handling it well. Except for the fact that you’re beating the bag like it owes you money.”

The velcro rips loudly as I strip off my gloves and toss them to the floor. “I couldn’t care less who I marry,” I say, my voice clipped. But even as the words leave my mouth, a voice in the back of my head whispers otherwise. Don’t kid yourself, Aithan. Your body sure as hell isn’t indifferent to Yelena. The thought is unwelcome, stirring an irritation I can’t quite shake.

Leon picks up the towel and wipes his face, shaking his head with amusement. “Look, you’re doing this for a greater cause. You’ve said it yourself. Marriage for the sake of politics, alliances, and power. It’s not like you have to stop seeing Bella, or any of the others, for that matter. We both know she’s not the only one you’ve kept around over the years.”

I grab my water bottle and take a long drink, the cool liquid doing little to temper my growing annoyance. Lowering it, I meet his gaze and smile tightly. “Thank you, cousin. Your moral guidance is, as always, inspiring.”

Leon chuckles, unfazed by the sarcasm. “I’m just saying. It’s not like you have to change your entire lifestyle for this. Keep the princess happy enough to keep the alliance intact, and you’re golden.”

The idea grates against me, the thought of having a mistress alongside Yelena sitting uneasily in my mind. I’ve never been one for conventional morality, but something about Leon’s suggestion feels… wrong. I roll my shoulders and exhale sharply. “Bella is another matter entirely,” I say curtly, steering the conversation away from Yelena.

“Speaking of Bella,” Leon begins, his tone edging toward playful. “How’d she take the news about the wedding?”

I grab the towel from him and wipe my face, deliberately taking my time before answering. “Not well,” I admit nonchalantly. “But I don’t owe her an explanation. I never promised to marry her.”

Leon’s laugh echoes through the gym. “Ever the Casanova. You’ve got a knack for keeping things… uncomplicated.”

I shrug, tossing the towel onto the bench. “I’ve always been clear about what I offer. If she expected more, that’s on her.”

“Fair enough,” Leon concedes, still grinning. “But it’s going to be interesting, seeing how you juggle this new chapter. You, married. I still can’t wrap my head around it.”

“Don’t try,” I reply dryly, motioning toward the locker room. “Go, freshen up. We’re meeting in half an hour.”

Leon gives a mock salute and heads off, his laughter trailing behind him. I glance at the heavy bag, still swaying slightly, and shake my head. Marriage. Politics. Alliances. It’s all part of the game, but the rules feel more convoluted than ever. I roll my wrists, the ache in my knuckles a welcome distraction as I prepare for whatever comes next.

The door to the gym slams shut behind Leon, leaving me in silence except for the creaking chain of the punching bag. I drop onto the bench near the wall and lean forward, resting my elbows on my knees. My chest heaves as I catch my breath, the adrenaline coursing through me finally beginning to subside. Still, my mind doesn’t quiet.

Yelena. Her name lingers in my thoughts like an unwelcome guest. She’s nothing more than a means to an end, I remind myself. This marriage isn’t about burning passion and attraction; it’s about securing power, solidifying alliances, and maintaining control. And yet… her image won’t leave me. Those electric blue eyes, sharp and unyielding, haunt me even now.

I stand and make my way to the mirrors lining the wall. My reflection stares back at me—sweaty, disheveled, and undeniably tired. I’ve faced enemies armed to the teeth, navigated deals that could’ve cost me everything, but this… this feels different. Marriage was never part of the plan. Not again.

“Get a grip,” I mutter to my reflection. The words are sharp, a command meant to pull me out of my spiraling thoughts. I grab the towel and head toward the showers, letting the sound of water hitting tile drown out everything else.

As I roll my shoulders under the scalding spray, my muscles begin to relax, but my mind remains restless. Leon’s words echo in my head. “Keep the princess happy enough to keep the alliance intact.” It’s a simple plan, one I’ve executed countless times in other contexts. Yet, for reasons I can’t explain, the thought of treating Yelena as just another pawn in this game doesn’t sit right.

The memory of Bella’s reaction to the news flashes in my mind. Her anger had been palpable, her words cutting. But what had she expected? Promises? A future? I’ve never been one to give anyone false hope, and Bella was no exception. Still, the weight of her disappointment sparks something in me, a reminder to never keep what I no longer need.

By the time I’ve finished my shower and dressed, Leon is waiting for me in the foyer. He’s cleaned up, his suit impeccable, but his smirk remains firmly in place. “Ready to face the wolves?” he asks, his tone laced with humor.

“Always,” I reply, adjusting the cuffs of my shirt. Together, we step into the elevator, the hum of the descending car filling the silence between us. My mind sharpens as I prepare to meet the fool who dared to mess with my business. This is where I thrive—in the realm of strategy and power. Where Princesses are not involved.