NICOLE

A few days had passed since the incident with Pavel but I was yet to get over it, not because he had done anything significantly terrifying but that, I just hadn't expected it and to be honest, I was curious about the dynamics of the Volkonsky family.

“You really should learn how to mind your business,” I muttered to myself. One thing I learned as a child was not to cause trouble, not to be a burden and most importantly, not to be noticed. If I wanted to survive in this house, I'd need to be extra careful.

I sat up on my bed, the afternoon sun getting hotter now. I was bored out of my mind. Despite not having so much memories in the US, I missed it. Since my family didn't care about me, I was allowed to enjoy my life to some degree as long as I didn't cause trouble to them but here, I was couped up at home.

As much as I'd love to look around the manor, I had recently established a schedule of avoidance. I realized quickly that the staff operated on the same principle of invisibility I was aiming for. They weren't rude, but they treated me as an object that required certain services—food, clean linens—but no actual acknowledgment. The housekeeper, the guards, the silent chefs—they were all deferential to the Volkonsky name, and terrifyingly indifferent to the woman marrying into it. Simply put, I had zero value beyond my utility as a business signature.

I dressed in my most muted colors and forced myself to leave the safety of my room.

I went into the kitchen, where I hoped to find Mrs. Polaine and some food of course. I found her overseeing the preparation of lunch, her face creased with exhaustion but softened by a weary compassion. She looked up when I entered, and her smile was the first genuine warmth I had felt since leaving New York.

“Ms. Baker,” she whispered, her hands busy mixing something fragrant in a bowl. “Would you like something to eat?” It's like she knew I was here for food.

“Thank you,” I mumbled in embarrassment.

“You don't have to be embarrassed,” she chuckled, serving me some toast with eggs. I thanked her for the food and went ahead to dig in.

“You don't have to stay locked up in your room, you know,” she said to me as I ate. “Or do you perhaps just like being alone?” She asked.

“I actually don't like being alone,” I admitted, the honest words slipping out before my internal censor could stop them. I was immediately mortified. Don't be needy.

Mrs. Polaine paused, her green eyes filled with a sad, familiar pity. It was the look people gave a stray dog—sympathy, but no intention of taking it home.

“You can talk to me whenever you want, I can't guarantee that the other workers would entertain you so much,” she said, trying to be considerate. “The workers here are nice, actually neutral but it's all because of Kirill’s preference.”

“You worked in the Volkonsky main home, didn’t you? With his mother, Maria?” I asked softly. “Is this somehow related to this?” I wanted to know more about Ivan but I knew I couldn't ask him. Seeing that Mrs. Polaine had a bit of a soft spot for me, she might just be willing to share—I take that back. She hard that cold look in her eyes that reminded me of Ivan.

“You’re going to be his wife, Ms. Baker. Your only job is to obey and not question,” she gave me a warning look, her voice dropping lower. “Do not try to pry into Kirill's personal life or past, unless of course you don't value your life.”

It was the most advice I would likely ever receive. She had no plans of telling me about Ivan, she only let me know that my curiosity would bring my end if I wasn't careful.

“I'm s-sorry,” I apologized with my head hung low. I didn't want her to hate me or distrust me, I really should have listened to my inner voice. I knew better than to pry and yet I did.

“If you're done with your meal, you can leave,” she answered dismissively.

She hurried away before I could respond, leaving me with the cold, unsettling truth of my situation.

I retreated to the library, the only place I felt semi-safe and useful. I needed the distraction that came with being busy. The small nod Kirill had given me the previous night—that single, cold acknowledgment of my competence—was a lifeline I clung to. It proved I had a function even if it wasn't so useful.

I was organizing a shelf of historical texts—trying to remember the complicated Russian numbering system—when the sound of high-pitched laughter echoed from the main entry hall.

It was bright, feminine, and utterly foreign in a gloomy house like this. Since my arrival, I haven't seen a single person laugh in these halls so who could this be?

Just as I was about to walk out the door to check who it was, the library door burst open and Tatiana rushed in with a bundle of energy and youthful feminity that I lacked.

“There you are!” she squealed, bounding over the expensive rug. “I told the guards you must be in here! Ivan has the best library—oh, but I’m sorry, is this bothering you?”

She didn't wait for an answer, her green eyes wide and innocent. “I know he hates guests, but I couldn’t wait! I wanted to properly meet my new sister.” She grabbed my hand, squeezing it enthusiastically.

I blinked, completely overwhelmed. This was the first time anyone here had touched me with genuine warmth. “Hello, Tatiana. It’s nice to see you again.”

“Ivan is being such a stick, but I don’t care. I told him he can’t ignore you forever. You're a recessive omega, aren’t you?” She asked with a wide grin.

“Why do you ask?” I said in a low voice. I was always on-guard when I'm asked about my secondary trait.

“Ah, don't worry, I don't have a problem with it. In fact, I think we're quite similar, just that I'm dominant,” no, we were not similar but whatever helps her sleep at night. “I don't like dominant Alphas, I have two older siblings that are dominant Alphas and they are such a pain in the neck.

But listen, the real reason I came is to warn you! You have to prepare.”

“Prepare for what?” She got my attention now.

“The annual Volkonsky Winter Gala! It’s this Friday,” she announced dramatically. “It’s horrible, but it’s when Kirill shows off his newest toys—and this year, that’s you! You have to be ready. You’ll need a dress, a new scent, everything. It’s important because Father and Kirill will use it to announce the formal transfer of American assets. You have to look perfect.”

I didn’t know how to react to this. Other than the fact that she was rather talkative, she had no filter which I didn't know if I should be grateful for. I felt a cold dread settle in my stomach.

A public event.

The entire Russian elite, watching me was the last thing I wanted. Our engagement party was bad enough, now this.

My internal panic was interrupted by the sound of heavy, deliberate steps in the hall outside. The very air around us seemed to drop a few degrees. Tatiana, despite her bravado, instantly snapped into rigid attention.

Kirill.

He strode into the library. He was dressed in a dark suit and exuded the aura of a dominant Alpha.

“Oh, it's just you,” Tatiana relaxed seeing him. She ran over to him and hugged him. What was I witnessing?

“I've told you to stop being so clingy,” he didn't put much effort to push her head away from him. And there I thought he couldn't dote on anyone, I guess I was wrong about his relationship with his sisters.

“But really, I thought it was that huge man with the scars on his face that was approaching,” Tatiana finally let go of him as she described.

“You mean Ian?” He raised a brow and she nodded. “Stop being silly, it's not like he's done anything to you.”

She justified her fear for him while I just stood awkwardly watching them. Ivan’s eyes finally landed on me.

“Anyway, what are you doing here?” He asked Tatiana.

“I was just telling Nicole about the Gala. We need to plan her outfit!” Tatiana was really dramatic. She seemed to be the only normal one in the family, if this could be considered normal.

He gave a short sigh—a sound of supreme annoyance. “She has a staff for that. Go home.”

“Why are you driving me away?” Tatiana pouted. Oh wow, that was something I never thought I'd see someone do in front of Ivan.

“Do you enjoy making a living by yourself perhaps?” He asked her and she looked horrified at the thought.

“Nevermind, I'll be on my way and you better not touch my allowance,” she warned as she walked away. “I'll call you,” she looked at me before skipping away.

“But I never gave you my number,” I muttered as she left.

We were alone together, the very I've been avoiding for two days now. He didn't mention the organized papers, he didn't mention Pavel, and he didn't mention my intrusion into his library. He treated me as if I had been waiting there for his command all day.

“The Gala is Friday,” he said, his eyes finally meeting mine—a glacier blue that offered no comfort. “You will attend as required. You will wear the family’s heirloom, and you will not speak unless spoken to by a member of the elite.”

I nodded my head and with that, he walked out.

“Don't do anything to ruin the event,” he muttered as he slammed the door shut.