PROLOGUE
Katerina POV - Romanov Manor | The One That Got Away
The fireplace in the west wing of Romanov Manor was still burning, casting everything in amber. Outside, the snow was falling so hard it erased the world. Inside, it was just us.
Desmond had me pressed gently against the edge of the armchair, his arms caged around me. His lips kept finding my neck, over and over, soft and slow, like he was memorizing my scent. Like he was addicted to it.
And I was letting him, even though I knew this was the last time.
"Why are you so quiet, Katerina?" he murmured against my ear, his voice low and hoarse.
That was the moment I knew I had to say it. If I waited any longer, I would never have the strength.
I sighed, my hands trembling as they gripped his shirt.
"Let's break up, Desmond."
He stopped.
Completely stopped. His lips stilled on my skin. His breathing changed.
I looked up at him. I had to be final. I couldn't waver.
My father's voice was still ringing in my head from this morning.
"What can Desmond offer you? He is just a mad dog of the President. A mere soldier. A Crown Prince is suited for you, my dear. Do not forget you are the only daughter of the FitzGerald."
My father was always right. That's what I kept telling myself.
"I am bound to marry," I said, my voice cracking. "A crown prince."
Desmond's expression darkened. The warmth in his eyes died in an instant, replaced by something cold and disbelieving. His hands slid off my waist.
"WHAT?" His voice snapped through the quiet manor. "Who decided that? Your parents?"
Tears slid down my cheeks before I could stop them. I hated how weak I sounded.
"Desmond, I have to. I am the only daughter of the FitzGerald. This is for our family. You don't understand—"
"Then make me understand, Katerina!" he cut in, stepping closer again. "Look at me and tell me you want this. Tell me you want him and not me."
I couldn't.
God, I couldn't look at him and lie.
"I didn't choose this life," I whispered. "I was promised to the Crown Prince of Europe. The number one enemy of Russia. And you... you don't even know— Desmond, if you stay with me, they will destroy you. They will destroy everything my family built."
His jaw clenched. "So you're choosing them."
"I'm choosing to not let my family fall apart," I cried. "Please. Don't make this harder."
He just stared at me, his chest rising and falling hard, like he had been shot.
I didn't let him stop me. If he touched me one more time, I would stay.
I stood up, my legs shaking, and walked past him. I didn't look back. I couldn't.
I hate this breakup. I hate leaving him.
But I had no choice.
***
Desmond POV - Romanov Manor | You Still Don't Know Me
I let her go.
Not because I don't love her. God knows I love her enough to burn this whole fucking manor down for her.
I let her go because until now, Katerina still doesn't understand. She doesn't know me at all.
She walked past me like I was nothing. Like I would just stand there and watch her leave. My hands were fists at my sides. I could still feel her skin on my lips. I could still smell her on my collar.
A mere soldier. A mad dog of the President. A beggar.
That's what her precious father calls me. And she believed him.
I chuckled. The sound was empty in the big room. The fire was still crackling, but it was cold now that she was gone.
She thinks I'm just a soldier who got lucky enough to touch a FitzGerald daughter.
She has no idea.
She has no idea that the Crown Prince of Europe she is so eager to marry — the man she thinks will give her power and money and a title — has to bow when I walk into the room. She has no idea that her father's entire empire only exists because I allow it to exist.
I never told her who I am. I wanted her to love Desmond. Not the name. Not the title. Not the bloodline. Just me.
And what did she do?
"She wants only power and money," I whispered to the empty room. "She chose the Crown Prince over me."
Fine.
If she wants a Crown Prince, I will give her a Crown Prince.
I picked up my phone from the table. One call was all it would take to cancel that engagement. One word would end that European royal's fantasy.
But I won't.
Let the wedding be prepared. Let her wear the white dress. Let her think she won.
Because soon, Katerina FitzGerald will walk down that aisle and realize who is actually waiting for her at the altar.
Soon, Katerina, you will regret this.
***
Katerina POV — FitzGerald Manor | A Soon-to-Be Engagement Party
The manor was alive.
Too alive. It was almost cruel how joyful everything sounded.
Servants hurried through the grand halls carrying trays of champagne, towers of fresh white roses, and silverware polished until it could blind you. From the ballroom downstairs, the string quartet was rehearsing a waltz. I could hear my mother down the corridor, directing the decorators.
"Higher. The chandeliers need to sparkle more. Tonight, Europe is watching us."
Everything was ready.
Tonight was my engagement party. Tomorrow, every newspaper across Europe would have the same headline:
Lady Katerina FitzGerald is officially engaged to Crown Prince Mason Spencer.
The thought alone made my stomach twist so hard I thought I would be sick.
I stood before the full-length mirror in my bedroom. The gown my mother had chosen was beautiful. Layers of ivory silk, embroidered with pearls, cinched at the waist, trailing behind me like mist.
I hated it.
It looked like the dress of a princess.
It felt like a prison.
A soft knock came at my door.
"My lady," Lily, my maid, said gently from behind the door. "The guests will be arriving shortly. Your mother asked me to tell you."
I didn't turn around. I kept staring at the stranger in the mirror.
"I'll be there," I whispered.
The door closed with a soft click, leaving me alone once again.
The music from downstairs drifted up, and suddenly the silence in my room was too loud.
I stared at my reflection until it became a blur of pearls and tears.
"Mason Spencer..."
I whispered his name and it tasted bitter on my tongue.
"I don't love you."
A tear slipped down my cheek, hot and quick, ruining the powder Lily had spent an hour applying.
"I never will."
Because the only man my heart had ever chosen was never supposed to be in a ballroom. He belonged in the snow, in the quiet wing of Romanov Manor, with his arms around me and his lips on my neck like he couldn't get enough.
Desmond.
His smile when I was being stubborn. His gentle voice when he called me my Katerina. The way he looked at me like I was the only person in the world, not a FitzGerald heiress to be traded.
And I threw it all away.
Not because I wanted to.
Because I thought I had no other choice.
I pressed my hand over my mouth to keep the sob from escaping. My shoulders shook.
"I'm sorry, Desmond," I choked out to the empty room. "I'm so sorry."
"I hope..."
My voice broke completely.
"...one day you'll find someone who can love you the way I couldn't."
Just then, outside my window, the sound of carriages rolling over gravel echoed through the estate. Car horns. Doors opening. Laughter. The first guests had arrived.
My engagement party was about to begin.
And with it, the future I never wanted.
***
Mason POV — Outside FitzGerald Manor | A Wedding Alliance
The black limousine rolled to a perfect stop in front of FitzGerald Manor.
Outside, it was already chaos. Red carpet. Camera flashes erupting from every direction. Reporters shouting my name, guests turning, whispering.
The future Crown Prince has arrived.
I adjusted the cuffs of my tailored suit and checked my reflection in the window for half a second. Perfect. That's all they ever want to see.
I stepped out.
I forced that charming smile I've practiced since I was ten years old. The one that makes the press write "gracious" and "regal" and "born to lead."
Another performance.
Another lie.
I had never wanted this engagement.
Marriage, for men like me, was nothing more than a political contract with a pretty seal on it.
As I looked up at the grand estate, lit up like a palace for tonight's party, my expression hardened for just a second when no camera was looking.
"If only taking Russia were simple..." I muttered under my breath.
One obstacle. One man standing in the way of everything Europe wants.
President Nicholaus Henrik Vlatislov.
I clicked my tongue in annoyance just saying his name.
"That man is impossible to intimidate... and even harder to remove."
Every intelligence report on him reached the same conclusion.
Ruthless. Calculating. Untouchable. A man who doesn't negotiate, he decides.
A direct confrontation with him would be suicide. Even my father knows that.
"No..." I murmured, my eyes narrowing. "If I want influence in the East, I'll have to earn it another way. A quieter way."
My gaze drifted toward the massive manor doors opening for me.
"The FitzGeralds."
One of the oldest noble families in the continent. Billions in assets, yes, but more importantly — longstanding, intimate ties to the Vlatislov administration. The President trusts them. He listens to them.
An alliance with them would open doors that armies never could.
A butler in a crisp black tailcoat approached and bowed deeply.
"Your Highness," he said respectfully. "The FitzGerald family has been eagerly awaiting your arrival. Lady Katerina is inside."
The perfect cue.
I answered with a practiced, warm smile. The mask slid back into place effortlessly.
"Lead the way."
As we walked toward the entrance, cameras clicking behind me, I allowed myself a quiet, cynical laugh that only I could hear.
"Katerina FitzGerald..."
"I have nothing against you. I'm sure you're lovely."
"But this engagement isn't about love."
"It's about influence. It's about Russia."
"When my ambitions no longer require this alliance... when I have what I need..."
"...our marriage will become just another page in history. An annulment, quiet and clean."
I straightened my jacket one last time and stepped into the light of the ballroom, the perfect prince once more.
"For now..."
"I'll play my role."
***
Katerina POV — FitzGerald Manor | Meeting the Demon
The ballroom glittered beneath the crystal chandeliers.
It was breathtaking. Laughter echoed through the hall as nobles in silk, politicians in tailored suits, and foreign diplomats with perfect manners filled the room with effortless elegance. Champagne flowed. The orchestra played.
To everyone else, tonight was a celebration.
To me...
It felt like an execution.
"Smile, Katerina," Mother whispered sharply beside me, her fingers adjusting the diamond necklace around my throat. Her grip was a little too tight. "Remember, the press is watching. Every camera in Europe is on you."
I forced the corners of my lips upward. The smile I had been taught since I was a little girl.
"Yes, Mother."
Just then, the orchestra suddenly fell silent.
The grand double doors at the end of the ballroom opened.
A hush fell over the crowd.
"Ladies and gentlemen," the announcer declared, his voice booming, "His Royal Highness, Crown Prince Mason Spencer."
A wave of applause swept across the ballroom like a storm.
He entered with perfect posture, dressed in an immaculate black suit, his golden hair combed back, wearing the smile of a man born to rule the world.
Handsome.
Elegant.
Flawless.
Every noblewoman in the room seemed captivated, sighing behind their fans.
I wasn't.
His eyes met mine from across the room, and for a brief moment, I felt a chill crawl down my spine despite the warmth of the ballroom.
His smile never reached his eyes.
Those cold, calculating blue eyes studied me as if I were not a woman he was about to marry, but a valuable acquisition. A piece of land. A treaty to be signed.
He approached and offered his hand to me. Every eye in the room followed his movement.
"Lady Katerina."
His voice was smooth. Almost rehearsed.
"It's an honor to finally meet you."
I hesitated for a fraction of a second before placing my hand in his. His skin was cold.
"The honor is mine, Your Highness," I said, the words tasting like ash.
His grip was gentle.
Too gentle. The kind that concealed terrifying strength beneath perfect manners.
"I've heard many wonderful things about you," he said, loud enough for the guests nearby to hear.
"I wish I could say the same," I replied politely, masking my unease with a practiced smile.
For the briefest instant, real amusement flickered across his face. It was the first genuine emotion I had seen from him.
"So you're honest," he murmured, his thumb brushing my knuckles just slightly too long.
"I prefer honesty over flattery, Your Highness."
"Interesting."
He leaned in just enough for only me to hear, his lips barely an inch from my ear. His charming smile remained for the crowd, but his voice dropped to a whisper.
"I think we're both attending a party neither of us truly wishes to be at, Lady Katerina."
My eyes widened.
Before I could answer, before I could even breathe, he straightened and returned to his charming public smile as if nothing had happened. He raised his glass to the room.
"Ladies and gentlemen," he announced, his voice charismatic and powerful, "may tonight mark the beginning of a prosperous and everlasting alliance between our families."
The guests erupted into applause. My mother clapped the loudest, tears of pride in her eyes.
I joined them mechanically, my hand still cold from his touch.
Yet something deep, deep inside me whispered a warning, louder than the orchestra.
Everyone around us saw a prince.
I saw something else.
A man wearing the face of a perfect gentleman...
...while hiding the heart of a demon.
