The bedroom door clicked shut, muffling the distant thrum of the orchestra. Ivy stood in the center of the room, her chest heaving, her midnight-blue dress slightly twisted from Nikolai's rough handling in the library.
Masha didn't say a word at first. She walked over to Ivy, her eyes scanning her best friend with the precision of a hawk. She saw the smeared lipstick, the wildness in Ivy's eyes, and the way her pulse was hammering against the thin skin of her throat.
"He didn't waste any time, did he?" Masha whispered, but there was no judgment in her voice only a spark of fierce, protective excitement.
"Masha, I... I shouldn't have gone in there," Ivy stammered, her hands trembling as she tried to smooth her hair. "He's out of control. He looked at me like he wanted to devour me."
"Because he does," Masha said, grabbing a silk robe and draping it over Ivy's shoulders for a moment while she worked. She grabbed a makeup sponge and began expertly dabbing concealer over a faint, reddened flush on Ivy's collarbone. "Nikolai has spent his whole life taking what is 'correct' for the family. You are the first thing he has ever wanted for himself. And he has no idea how to handle that hunger."
Masha pulled a fresh tube of deep red lipstick from her vanity. "Now, listen to me. If you go back out there looking like a victim, Sasha wins. She'll smell the scent of him on you and ruin you before the night is over."
Masha painted Ivy's lips with a bold, defiant shade. "You are going to walk back down those stairs. You are going to find Luca, and you are going to act like Nikolai Volkov is the furthest thing from your mind. Let him watch you. Let him burn."
The transition from the quiet hallway back into the thrumming heat of the ballroom was jarring. The orchestra was playing a lively jazz number, and the smell of roasting meats and expensive perfume hit Ivy like a physical wall.
At the head of the room, Nikolai stood next to Sasha, a glass of dark liquor in his hand. He looked composed, the "King" back in his throne, but the moment Ivy stepped into the light, his head snapped toward her. His eyes darkened, his gaze dropping to her lips, searching for the evidence of what they had just done in the library.
"Look at him," Masha whispered, leaning close to Ivy. "He's vibrating. He wants to drag you back into the shadows. Don't let him."
Instead of hiding, Ivy walked straight toward the bar. "Two glasses of the Italian red," she told the waiter, her voice steady.
"Make it three," a cheerful voice said behind her. **Luca Moretti** was back. He looked relieved to see her, his brow furrowing as he scanned her face. "Ivy! I was worried. Masha said you weren't feeling well."
Ivy took a long, slow sip of her wine, the tart liquid emboldening her. She turned to Luca and gave him a dazzling, brilliant smile-the kind of smile that made every man in the room turn his head. "I'm much better now, Luca. I just needed a moment to catch my breath. The Volkov hospitality can be... overwhelming."
Luca laughed, sliding a protective arm around Ivy's waist. This time, Ivy didn't pull away. She leaned into him, her laughter ringing out across the quiet pockets of the room.
Across the floor, Nikolai's glass cracked.
A small, spiderweb fracture appeared in the crystal as his grip tightened to the point of breaking. Sasha noticed. She followed his gaze to Ivy and Luca, her face contorting into a mask of pure venom.
"Nikolai, the toast," Elena Volkov announced, her voice echoing through the microphone.
The room went silent. Nikolai stepped onto the small dais, the spotlight hitting his sharp features. He looked like a god of war, cold and untouchable. Beside him, Sasha preened, holding her head high.
"To the future of the Volkov and Romanov families," Elena began, raising her glass. "To a union that will solidify our power and bring peace to our territories. To Nikolai and Sasha."
The crowd erupted in applause. Nikolai raised his glass, but his eyes never left Ivy. He watched as Luca leaned in to whisper something in her ear, his hand stroking the silk of her dress.
Nikolai didn't drink. He stood there, the glass frozen at his lips, a silent promise of destruction written in his gaze.
"He's going to kill him," Masha whispered. "Ivy, look at Nikolai. He's not even pretending to care about the toast."
Ivy took another sip of her wine, her heart racing. She raised her glass toward Nikolai in a silent, mocking salute. *Your move, Beast,* her eyes challenged.
Nikolai's jaw shifted. He handed his glass to a stunned Sasha without a word and stepped off the dais. He headed straight for the center of the floor, the crowd parting before him.
"Mr. Moretti," Nikolai's voice was a low, terrifying rasp that silenced the music.
Luca turned, his face turning pale. "Mr. Volkov. A lovely party."
"The party is over for you," Nikolai said, stopping just inches from Luca. He didn't look at the boy; he looked at the hand on Ivy's waist. "My mother forgot to mention-the Moretti contract is under review. I suggest you go home and tell your father to prepare his books. Now."
Luca's hand dropped as if he'd been burned. He looked at Ivy, then at the lethal promise in Nikolai's eyes, and realized that his life was worth more than a dance. "I... excuse me." He vanished into the crowd before Ivy could even say goodbye.
### **THE SILENT RECKONING**
Ivy stood her ground, her wine glass still in her hand. Nikolai stepped into her space, his presence overwhelming. He didn't touch her-not with so many eyes on them-but the intensity of his stare felt like a physical weight.
"You think you can play games with me, Ivory?" he whispered, so low only she could hear. "You think you can use that boy to make me jealous?"
"Is it working?" she challenged.
Nikolai's eyes darkened to the color of a stormy sea. "It's working so well that I'm considering burning this entire house down just to get you alone again."
"Nikolai!" Sasha's voice shrieked from behind them. She had finally reached them, her face red with humiliation. "What are you doing? Everyone is looking! This is our engagement!"
Nikolai finally turned to Sasha, his expression turning to stone. "The engagement is a piece of paper, Sasha. Go back to my mother. I have business to attend to."
He didn't wait for her response. He turned and walked out of the ballroom, leaving Sasha standing there, humiliated in front of the entire Russian elite.
Ten minutes later, Ivy was standing on the balcony, trying to let the cold night air clear her head. The rustle of silk behind her made her turn. It wasn't Nikolai. It was Sasha.
The Romanov girl looked different now-the "perfect bride" mask was gone, replaced by a cold, calculating desperation.
"You think you've won, don't you?" Sasha said, her voice trembling with rage. "You think because he looks at you with that hunger, you're special. You're not. You're a distraction. A toy."
Ivy didn't flinch. "I never asked for his attention, Sasha."
"It doesn't matter what you asked for," Sasha hissed. She stepped closer, her eyes flashing. "I know why you're here. I know about your father's gambling debts. I know the Volkovs own your family's soul."
Ivy's heart froze. "How do you know that?"
"I'm a Romanov. I know everything," Sasha said, a cruel smile touching her lips. "So, here is the deal, Ivy. Leave tonight. Disappear. Go back to your university and never look at Nikolai again. If you do, I will personally pay off every cent your father owes. Your family will be free."
Sasha leaned in, her voice a poisonous whisper. "But if you stay... if you keep playing this game... I will make sure your father never breathes another word of air. Choose, Ivy. Your heart, or your father's life."
