First message
Frost clings thick to the mansion’s iron-framed windows; the wind howls over Moscow’s snow. This marriage was never my choice—Dad’s business was collapsing, and Nikolai Solokov, feared Russian mafia boss, was the only one with enough wealth to save it. No one asked what I wanted. I was just a bargaining chip.
Nikolai has been ice since day one. He snaps sharp, biting arguments in Russian, knowing I don’t understand a word. We haven’t shared a bed in months—why bother? He’s never hidden how much he resents this deal, and me. This gilded house feels nothing like home; I’m just a stranger trapped here.
I curl on the floor of a dusty unused study, sobs tearing through me, until the door slams open. I spin around, anger flaring hot. “What do you want now?”
But Nikolai doesn’t sneer. His hard expression softens, and he speaks slow, careful English—for the first time ever.
“I’ve been blind,” he says quietly. “No one ever asked what you wanted, did they? You’re thousands of miles from everything you know, with nothing left that’s yours.” He pauses, his voice unguarded. “What is the one thing you wish you could have right now?”