NICOLE

For someone who was terrified and humiliated by Ivan last night, I slept rather peacefully. I was even feeling refreshed which was embarrassingly nice.

“Maybe my weakness is really luxury and a good face,” I let out a sigh. It was rather quiet, or perhaps I was just used to the background noise of New York. Seeing the room I was in morning light only made me appreciate it's beauty even more

I dressed in my most neutral clothes and ventured out. The vast house was deserted,the workers probably elsewhere. I avoided the main staircases and most rooms, feeling the need to find a place to occupy my mind, I eventually found it: the library.

My first thought was: Don't be dumb.

Kirill’s contemptuous words from the night before had left a deeper mark than the humiliation I experienced at the engagement party. To be deemed useless, brainless—it felt like a threat to my survival. If my purpose was financial utility, I had to ensure I was valuable enough to keep.

It wasn’t a dusty, antique room but a contemporary study walled in floor-to-ceiling glass, showcasing a truly staggering collection of books and documents. The chaos inside was surprising. Rare first editions were stacked haphazardly next to highly technical engineering manuals. Financial reports, binders marked with Cyrillic script, and maps of various ports lay piled on a large central table.

“I didn't think Ivan was this disorganized,” I muttered. This seemed to be his private library and since it was this organized, that means he handled the organization of his library. “This might just be my opportunity to stand out. Talk about being his knight in shining armor,” I praised myself.

I started small, organizing the books alphabetically and by subject. It was during this process that I began to notice the small, personal details: a photo tucked into a book showing a woman with striking blonde hair and blue eyes. A name was written at the bottom of the photo.

“Maria?” I read out loud. Who was she? The more I looked at her, the more I couldn't pretend not to see the striking resemblance between she and Ivan. Ivan looked just like her. “Is that his mom?” I nearly gasped. So even someone as vile as him had a mom, I never forgot that he had to birthed.

I saw the dedication in a collection of Russian poetry, addressed to My dearest Kirill, with all my heart. The name of the man who hated me was tied to the one person he cherished.

“I probably shouldn't pry more than this,” I concluded, not wanting my situation to only get worse here.

I was focused on cross-referencing a stack of foreign currency exchange reports when the silence was abruptly broken by a noise I recognized: a polite, but sharp, argument in Russian near the entryway.

I froze, hearing a man’s voice speaking clearly in accented English.

“I am simply checking on the American bride, as Father requested. I assume she is not locked in a cellar?”

It was Pavel.

Mrs. Polaine was obviously distraught. She, of course, had better things to do.

“Mr. Pavel, your father did not call us. Mr. Kirill is busy and gave no instruction for guests.”

Pavel chuckled, a low, dismissive sound. “Why are you worried, Mrs. Polaine? I am family after all, and who needs an appointment with family?” He was so insufferable.

“Even if you don't need an appointment, you can't just barge into here,” she stood her ground.

“She's my future sister-in-law. Or perhaps just a sister-in-law. One never knows with our lineage, does one?”

The comment was aimed at the housekeeper, a subtle power flex, but it sent a chill down my spine. Pavel spotted me from where he was and all I could say was “dammit”. Why did I have to be stuck with this jerk?

Pavel entered the library without knocking. He looked impeccable in a suit that spoke of old wealth and to be honest, he had a sort of charm to him. Maybe it was because of their good genes but everyone was attractive in the Volkonsky family.

“Nicole,” he said, his smile too wide. “What a delightful surprise. The last place I thought you'd be is in the library, I assumed you’d be crying in your room.”

“I find organization calming,” I replied, standing up straight. I placed my hands on the reorganized stack of documents I had just finished—a silent declaration that I wasn't weeping, I was working.

He approached the table, his eyes lingering on my face. “Such diligence. You certainly stand in contrast to your family’s notorious reputation for… volatile finance. But then again, you’ve been trained by the Bakers, haven’t you?”

“Why are you even here?” I changed the topic.

“I'm just a bit curious. Everyone is,” he said, in this smooth yet dubious voice. “Tell me, does Ivan treat you well? I'm rather surprised that you're perfectly fine after spending a night here with Ivan.”

“I don't have to answer that,” I stated. The only person who I was afraid of here was Ivan and Sergey so he was wasting his time.

“Protecting your fiance, are we now?” He grabbed my hand. “You do realize that your efforts won't be appreciated, right?”

His grip was tightening around my wrist and I squirmed. I really knew this man was bad news.

“Unhand—” before I could complete my sentence, the air pressure in the room shifted and we silently knew it had to be Kirill.

His clothes had been changed to perfectly tailored black trousers and a soft gray sweater, but the chill that radiated from him sent shivers down my spine. He didn't have to speak to command.

He looked at Pavel, then at me, and then back at Pavel. His eyes were murderous. It was clear he didn't like even the sight of Pavel.

“Pavel,” he said, his voice dangerously low. “I believe I was clear that I was not receiving guests.”

Pavel’s false charm evaporated instantly. He looked like a startled fox caught raiding a chicken coop.

“Ivan, I was merely checking to ensure the girl was settling in. Father was concerned.”

Kirill took two slow steps into the room, and Pavel recoiled instinctively, letting go of my hand.

“You should be more concerned about yourself, Pavel,” he walked over to the table and rested against it as he looked at the two of us. Why did it feel like he was going to scold me alongside Pavel? “I heard the hotel dad put you in charge of isn't doing so well, yet you have time to come play house at my manor. You really have not a care in this world,” Ivan grinned so wickedly that I wanted to find a way to leave.

“Don't you push—” Pavel vibrated next to me in anger but Ivan quickly cut him off.

“Isn't your child's graduation today? I heard Zoya is entering elementary school,” Ivan picked up a pen from the table and spun it. “Shouldn't you be there?” He was oddly considerate, the last thing I thought would come out of his mouth was this.

“That's—”

“Ah, that's right,” he interrupted him once more. “You're really just like your mother, deadbeat and useless.”

I take my words back, he wasn't being considerate at all. He just wanted to anger Pavel.

“You really think you are all that because Father gives you attention and lets you do as you please,” he was radiating unbridled jealousy. “I'll make sure to take everything from you. Let's see how you'd react then.”

“You might want to focus on your hotel though,” Ivan clapped back and I nearly laughed. “If you're done being a nuisance, get out.”

With anger and embarrassment, he stormed out without arguing. It was the most humiliating dismissal I had ever witnessed.

When the door clicked shut, Kirill turned his entire focus on me. I braced myself for the explosion, the anger at my shared conversation with his half-brother, the fury at my presence in his library. He was probably going to be angry right? I mean, he hated his brother so much that I was nearly sure how he'd react.

His eyes went to the stack of finance reports I had meticulously grouped and labeled with sticky notes.

He paused for a long, silent moment. I watched his fingers trace the edge of the precisely aligned stack.

He simply gave a slight nod without looking at me and for some reason, I felt elated. It was neither a compliment nor a thank you. He had simply acknowledged what I had done.

“Do not touch anything outside of this table,” he stated, his voice flat. He walked out of the library without saying another word to me.