Chapter 11

Laura

WOW, WHO is this woman?

I stand in front of the floor-length mirror, scarcely recognizing the woman staring back at me. The ivory silk gown hugs my curves like a second skin, the intricate lace detailing glimmering under the soft lights of the hotel suite. It’s the kind of dress I’ve only ever dreamed of wearing, the kind of luxury I never imagined I’d experience in my lifetime.

I twist and turn, watching the way the gown catches the light, the way it transforms me into someone new again, someone ethereal and untouchable. For a moment, I let myself get lost in the fantasy, in the dream of being someone special, someone worthy of all this luxury.

It’s taken the team of stylists over two hours to transform me, to turn plain old Laura into this vision of bridal perfection.

Two hours of poking and prodding, of having my hair twisted into an elegant updo, my face painted with cosmetics more expensive than my entire wardrobe.

Two hours of sitting in this opulent suite, alone with my thoughts, wondering where my new husband had disappeared to.

Damnit, Laura, he’s not your real husband. Not in any way that matters.

I keep scolding myself silently as I try to push away the traitorous thoughts that keep drifting to Victor.

He made it abundantly clear that this marriage is nothing more than a business arrangement, a means to an end. He doesn’t care about me, doesn’t want anything from me beyond my signature on a piece of paper and my body in his bed.

But here I am, as my new identity.

Primping for my wedding reception in a five-star hotel that costs more per night than I used to make in a month. It’s surreal. Like I’ve stepped into someone else’s life, someone else’s fairytale.

Except this is no fairytale.

The tight band constricting my chest, the anger simmering in my veins, are a stark reminder of that. Victor’s cruel words echo in my mind, taunting me.

“I have no shortage of willing women to satisfy my needs.”

I close my eyes against the sting of tears, refusing to let them fall. I won’t give him the satisfaction of knowing he got to me.

Fuck Laur, get a fucking grip.

Taking a deep, fortifying breath, I smooth my hands over the delicate fabric of my gown and square my shoulders. If he wants a picture-perfect wife for the cameras, that’s exactly what I’ll give him. I’ll smile and simper and play my role to perfection. But behind closed doors? He can go to hell.

A knock at the door startles me out of my bitter thoughts. “Mrs. Morozov?” a muffled voice calls. “It’s time.”

Mrs. Morozov.

The name feels foreign to me, an ill-fitting costume I’ve been forced into. But it’s mine now, for better or for worse.

Casting one last glance at my reflection, I lift my chin and slip on the mask of a blissful bride. It’s showtime.

I open the door, expecting to see one of the hotel staff, but instead, I’m greeted by Yuri. He is especially handsome today. His dark hair is neatly styled, and he wears a perfectly tailored suit that accentuates his lean, muscular frame. But what really catches my attention is little Eli standing next to him, grinning up at me with excitement.

“Tetya Laura, you look like a princess!” Eli chirps, running toward me and hugging my leg.

Laughing, I crouch down to her level, smoothing a hand over her hair. “And you, my darling Eli, are the most adorable little fairy in all the land! Thank you for the compliment.”

Eli beams, twirling in her fluffy pink dress. “Do you think Dyadya Victor will think I’m pretty, too?”

“Sweetheart, he would be blind not to see how beautiful you are, inside and out.” I tap her nose playfully, eliciting a giggle.

“Okay, okay, that’s enough chatter, little missy,” Yuri interjects, his tone teasing but edged with a hint of impatience. “We’re on a tight schedule here.”

I glance up at him, our eyes meeting briefly as I straighten. Memories flicker through my mind—catching glimpses of Yuri at the dinner, standing solemnly beside his mother at the wedding ceremony. But we’ve never actually spoken beyond basic pleasantries.

“Tetya?” I ask softly, testing the foreign word on my tongue as my gaze darts between him and Eli.

Yuri clears his throat, extending a hand toward me. “It means ‘aunt’ in Russian. We haven’t been properly introduced yet. I’m Yuri, Eli’s older brother and Victor’s nephew. Our mother sent us to escort you to the reception hall.”

Aunt. The word echoes in my mind, a sudden reminder of my new role in this unfamiliar family. It feels strange, surreal.

I swallow, forcing a smile to my lips despite the guilt churning in my gut.

Taking his hand, I shake it firmly. His grip is strong, his skin warm. “It’s a pleasure to formally meet you, Yuri. Thank you for the escort.”

He nods curtly, releasing my hand. “Of course. It’s tradition.” There’s a flicker of something in his eyes—sympathy, perhaps, or understanding. But it’s gone before I can fully decipher it.

“Malyshka,” he says, turning to his sister, “why don’t you help Tetya Laura with her dress so we can get going?”

“Oh, can I?” Eli asks, practically vibrating with eagerness.

I laugh, turning so she can gather up my train. “Of course, honey. I’d be honored to have your assistance.” I chuckle, warmth blooming in my chest at her innocent enthusiasm. “Well then, lead the way, my little fairy. Let’s not keep the kingdom waiting.”

Yuri’s lips twitch, a hint of a smile softening his stern features. He gestures down the hall. “After you, Tetya.”

As we walk toward the elevators, Eli chattering excitedly as she carefully holds my dress, I can’t help but feel a flicker of gratitude.

Thank you, Eli, for making this whole crazy situation a little more bearable.

We make our way down the hallway, with Yuri keeping a respectful distance, his posture perfect and his expression neutral. I remember Eli telling me a little about him, how he’s the quiet one in the family, the one who always seems to be carrying some unseen weight on his shoulders.

The crackle of a walkie-talkie interrupts my thoughts. “Bring the bride down now,” a gruff voice commands.

Eli bounces on her toes, her excitement palpable. “Hurry, hurry!” she urges, tugging on my hand.

I smile down at her, struck by a sudden memory from my childhood. “You know, Eli, you remind me of the White Rabbit from Alice in Wonderland. Always rushing about, checking his pocket watch, and crying, ‘Oh dear! Oh dear! I shall be too late!’”

Eli giggles, her eyes sparkling with delight. “Does that make you Alice?” she asks innocently.

I tap my chin, pretending to consider it. “Hmm, I suppose it does. But let’s hope this wonderland isn’t quite as crazy as the one in the story.”

Eli grins mischievously. “But I like crazy stories! And Alice is so brave, just like you, Tetya Laura!”

I laugh, touched by her sweet comparison. “You think I’m brave like Alice?”

She nods vigorously. “Yes! You married Uncle Victor, and he’s the scariest man in the world! That’s really brave.”

I feel a pang in my chest at her innocent observation, but I quickly push it aside. “Well, if I’m Alice, then you must be the Cheshire Cat. Always appearing out of nowhere with a grin and a riddle.”

Eli’s eyes sparkle with delight. “The Cheshire Cat is my favorite! He’s so silly, isn’t he? Always talking in circles and making jokes.” Eli giggles. “I wish I could disappear like he does! Wouldn’t that be cool?”

“It would,” I agree. “But I’d miss seeing your pretty smile if you disappeared.”

She beams up at me, hugging my leg.

Yuri chuckles softly, and I glance over to see a hint of warmth in his eyes as he watches his little sister. It’s clear that he adores Eli, that he would do anything to protect her from the harsh realities of their world.

The elevator arrives with a soft ding, and the bodyguards usher us inside. Eli insists on pushing the button. As we descend, she sings softly under her breath. “Twinkle, twinkle, little bat, how I wonder what you’re at. Up above the world you fly, like a tea tray in the sky…”

I join in, ruffling her hair affectionately. “Twinkle, twinkle, little bat, how I wonder what you’re at!”

As Eli hums happily and classical music fills the space, I find myself wondering once again where Victor is.

What is he doing? Is he thinking about me? About the way we left things? Or has he already pushed me from his mind, focusing on whatever Bratva business he’s attending to?

Urg. Stop it, Laura. Stop obsessing over him like some lovesick teenager.

Love?

You’re an idiot, that’s what you are. A hopeless, naive idiot who’s in way over her head. He’s a ruthless criminal, for God’s sake. He’s not capable of real feelings.