CHAPTER 4

Alessia Moretti 

I should have been used to walking into a room and feeling like prey.

Growing up as a Moretti meant constantly being watched—by allies, by enemies, by people who wanted something from you. But this? This was different.

This was suffocating.

Everywhere I turned, another pair of eyes lingered on me. Some with curiosity, others with envy, but most with satisfaction. Like they were enjoying the spectacle of my downfall.

Because that’s what this was.

An arranged engagement. A forced marriage. A cage.

And I was the perfect little bird trapped inside it.

I stood next to Nikolai, my soon-to-be husband—God, even thinking about it made me want to scream—as we walked through the extravagant engagement party he had thrown. It was a spectacle of wealth and power, full of people who knew exactly who Nikolai Volkov was and what he was capable of.

Every time someone approached us, I had to force a smile, pretending I wasn’t silently plotting ways to ruin this man.

Nikolai had been playing the part of the perfect fiancé, his hand resting casually on my waist, his deep voice smooth as he introduced me to powerful men and their perfectly manicured wives.

And through it all, I had to act like I wasn’t burning with rage.

I turned my head slightly, whispering through clenched teeth. “You didn’t tell me I’d be paraded around like some kind of trophy.”

Nikolai barely looked at me as he took a sip of his whiskey. “You are a trophy, printsessa.”

I gritted my teeth, my nails digging into my palm. “I hate you.”

He smiled lazily, the kind of smirk that made my blood boil. “I know.”

Bastard.

Just then, a familiar voice interrupted my spiral of anger.

“Alessia?”

I turned, and my breath caught in my throat.

Marcello.

My ex-boyfriend.

The man I had once thought I would spend my life with.

And the one I had walked away from when my father had warned me that relationships with outsiders were dangerous.

He stood just a few feet away, wearing a perfectly tailored suit, his dark eyes filled with something between shock and betrayal.

I opened my mouth, but before I could say anything, Nikolai’s grip on my waist tightened.

Possessive.

Dangerous.

Marcello’s gaze flickered between us, his jaw clenching. “You’re engaged?”

I swallowed, my throat suddenly dry. “Marcello—”

“It was a sudden decision,” Nikolai interrupted smoothly, his voice dripping with amusement. “But when you know, you know.”

I glared at him, but he ignored me.

Marcello’s hands balled into fists at his sides. “You expect me to believe that?”

“I don’t expect anything from you,” I said quickly, desperate to stop whatever was about to happen.

Marcello took a step closer. “Alessia, this isn’t you. You wouldn’t—”

“She made her choice,” Nikolai cut in, his voice sharper now, darker.

Marcello’s eyes snapped to him, and I could feel the tension crackling between them.

“Nikolai—” I started, but he tightened his grip on me.

Not painful. But a warning.

Marcello scoffed. “This is about power, isn’t it?” He turned to me, searching my face. “Your father forced you into this.”

I wanted to say yes.

I wanted to scream that this wasn’t my choice, that I had been backed into a corner, that this wasn’t love.

But I couldn’t.

Because if I admitted that—**if I showed weakness in front of these people—**it would make things worse.

So, I straightened my spine, lifted my chin, and forced out the biggest lie of my life.

“I want this.”

Marcello’s face hardened. “You’re lying.”

Nikolai chuckled, but there was nothing amused about it. “She isn’t. But I’d be careful, boy. You’re walking a dangerous line.”

Marcello’s fists tightened, his entire body coiled with anger.

For one terrible second, I thought he was going to do something stupid.

But then, with one last furious look at me, he turned and walked away.

I exhaled, my shoulders sagging.

But Nikolai wasn’t done.

His fingers brushed against my bare back, his voice low enough that only I could hear.

“You’re mine now, printsessa. Might want to start acting like it.”

I turned, my eyes blazing with fury. “I will never be yours.”

Nikolai only smirked. “We’ll see.”

I hated him.

I hated him so much.

...........

The weight of the engagement ring on my finger felt heavier than it should. A simple piece of jewelry, yet it felt like a shackle, chaining me to a fate I hadn’t chosen.

I stood on the balcony of Nikolai’s penthouse, the city of Los Angeles stretching before me in endless lights and movement. Everything down there continued as if my life hadn’t just been signed away to the devil himself.

I clenched my fists.

A year.

One year of pretending. One year of being his. One year of resisting the man who had spent his entire life making me miserable.

I could do this.

I had to do this.

A gust of wind blew through my hair, and I wrapped my arms around myself. I hadn’t even brought any of my things. Everything had happened so fast—one moment, I was bargaining for my brother’s life, and the next, I was standing beside Nikolai at our engagement party, smiling for people who didn’t care about me, but about power.

I hated it.

I hated him.

But most of all, I hated myself for the way my heart had reacted every time he touched me tonight.

The way he had whispered against my ear, his voice a dangerous promise.

The way his fingers had rested on my waist, firm and possessive.

I squeezed my eyes shut. No. This is nothing but survival.

“Lost in thought, printsessa?”

His voice came from behind me, smooth and dark, wrapping around me like smoke.

I stiffened but didn’t turn. “Don’t call me that.”

His chuckle was low, amused. “It suits you.”

I ignored him.

A moment later, he was standing beside me, close enough that I could feel the heat radiating from his body. He smelled of whiskey and something distinctly him—a mix of danger and control.

I forced myself to stay still. I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of reacting.

“You’ve been quiet all night,” he mused, tilting his glass before taking a slow sip. “Second thoughts?”

I scoffed. “I didn’t have a first thought.”

His lips twitched. “Liar.”

I finally turned to him, meeting his icy gaze. “You think you know everything about me, don’t you?”

His smirk deepened. “I know you better than you’d like me to.”

The arrogance in his voice made my blood boil. “You don’t know anything, Nikolai.”

He hummed as if considering my words. Then, without warning, he reached out, his fingers brushing against my wrist.

My breath hitched.

“Your pulse is racing,” he murmured, eyes locked on mine. “Tell me again how unaffected you are.”

I yanked my hand away, my heart hammering. “I hate you.”

He only smiled, his expression infuriatingly calm. “Hate is just another form of obsession, printsessa.”

I turned away, gripping the cold railing. “This is just a game to you, isn’t it?”

He didn’t answer immediately.

Then, in a voice softer than I expected, he said, “Everything is a game.”

Something about the way he said it made my chest tighten.

I exhaled, trying to steady myself. “Well, I hope you enjoy playing alone, because I’m not participating.”

He chuckled. “You already are.”

I clenched my jaw, refusing to look at him.

A moment of silence stretched between us before he said, “Get some rest. We have a wedding to plan.”

The reminder sent a chill down my spine.

As I turned to leave, he spoke again, his voice just above a whisper.

“And, Alessia?”

I paused, but didn’t look back.

“You’re mine now.”

I swallowed hard and walked inside without another word