Chapter 1
Chapter 1 - The Party
Ishita's POV
The car moved smoothly through the wide streets, the city glowing beyond the tinted windows.
Streetlights slipped across the glass in long ribbons of gold and white, disappearing almost as quickly as they appeared. The city was alive tonight-restaurants spilling warm light onto pavements, expensive cars moving through traffic, people laughing outside hotels and clubs.
Inside our car, everything was quieter.
Almost unnaturally so.
I sat beside Alexei, my hands folded loosely over the soft fabric of my gown. The dress was elegant without being excessive-something Elena had chosen for me weeks ago, insisting that I would need it for tonight.
My mind, however, wasn't thinking about the dress.
It was thinking about the evening ahead.
Parties like this were never simply parties.
Not in Alexei's world.
They were meetings disguised as celebrations. Alliances hidden beneath smiles. Deals made over champagne. Threats exchanged through polite sentences.
And everyone watched everyone.
Alexei was on the phone, his voice low and clipped as he spoke in Russian.
I didn't listen to the details.
I didn't need to.
I'd known him long enough to recognize that particular tone.
Business.
Serious business.
In the front, the driver kept his eyes fixed on the road. Beside him, the bodyguard sat rigidly, one hand resting near his jacket while his eyes moved constantly between the mirrors and the road ahead.
Behind us were two more vehicles.
Ahead was another.
Three cars.
All Volkov security.
It was always like this.
Wherever Alexei went, security followed.
Sometimes I wondered what it must feel like to live without constantly checking who was standing behind you.
Then I remembered that I'd spent seven years learning not to ask questions about things I didn't need to know.
Alexei finally ended the call.
He leaned back against the seat and exhaled slowly, rubbing the side of his temple.
Then he looked at me.
"Прости, Ишита. Работа никогда не заканчивается."
("Sorry, Ishita. Work never ends.")
A faint smile touched my lips.
"Всё в порядке. Я привыкла."
("It's fine. I'm used to it.")
His eyes narrowed slightly.
"Ты слишком спокойно это говоришь."
("You say that far too calmly.")
I turned toward him.
"Что именно?"
("That you're used to it.")
He studied me for another second.
"Ты вообще умеешь отдыхать?"
("Do you even know how to rest?")
I laughed softly.
"Иногда."
("Sometimes.")
"Когда?"
("When?")
I pretended to think.
"Когда никто не звонит мне, никто ничего от меня не хочет и мир хотя бы на несколько часов забывает о моём существовании."
("When nobody calls me, nobody wants anything from me, and the world forgets I exist for a few hours.")
Alexei stared at me.
Then he smiled.
"Значит, сегодня ты точно не отдохнёшь."
"Then you're definitely not going to rest tonight."
I laughed again.
"Я знаю."
"I know."
His expression softened.
For a moment, he simply looked at me.
Not at my dress.
Not at my hair.
At me.
"Ты выглядишь уставшей."
"You look tired."
I looked away toward the window.
"Просто много перелётов на этой неделе."
"Just too many flights this week."
He was quiet.
Then, as expected, he didn't push.
That was Alexei.
He noticed everything.
The smallest change in my expression. The pause before an answer. The way I became quieter when something was bothering me.
But he never forced me to explain.
Maybe that was one of the reasons I'd trusted him so completely.
Seven years ago, he had been almost a stranger.
Now he was the closest thing I had to family in this country.
My best friend.
My anchor.
The person I could sit beside in complete silence without feeling the need to fill it.
Tonight, however, we weren't arriving simply as friends.
The event's protocol expected powerful men to arrive with a partner or female companion. It was an old-fashioned tradition, more about appearances and alliances than romance.
Alexei and I had done this before.
It was nothing unusual.
Nothing romantic.
At least, not from my side.
I had never allowed myself to think of him that way.
He was Alexei.
My safest person in a world that often felt anything but safe.
The car began slowing.
I could already see the flashes through the window.
One.
Two.
Then dozens.
Alexei straightened his jacket.
"Приехали."
"We've arrived.
He looked at me.
"Готова?"
"Ready?"
I drew in a slow breath and straightened my shoulders.
"Всегда."
"Always."
His mouth curved into a small smile.
"Вот это моя Ишита."
"That's my Ishita."
The car stopped.
The door opened.
And the quiet disappeared.
Light exploded around us.
Camera flashes struck from every direction, voices rose over one another, and reporters immediately began calling Alexei's name.
"Господин Волков!"
"Mr. Volkov!"
"Алексей! Посмотрите сюда!"
"Alexei! Look this way!"
"Кто ваша спутница сегодня?"
"Who is your companion tonight?"
For half a second, the brightness stung my eyes.
Then the security detail moved.
Black suits surrounded us almost instantly.
A wall.
A shield.
A practiced formation.
Alexei stepped out first and offered me his hand.
I placed mine in his.
The moment I stepped onto the carpet, his hand settled lightly against my back-not possessive, simply protective-as we moved toward the entrance.
The reporters kept shouting.
"Она ваша девушка?"
("Is she your girlfriend?")
"Когда свадьба, Алексей?"
("When is the wedding, Alexei?")
I nearly laughed.
Alexei didn't even turn his head.
"Игнорируй их."
("Ignore them.")
I glanced at him.
"Я всегда игнорирую."
("I always do.")
"Хорошая девочка."
("Good girl.")
I elbowed him lightly.
He laughed under his breath.
"Не называй меня так."
("Don't call me that.")
"Почему? Тебе уже двадцать пять."
("Why? You're already twenty-five.")
"Именно. Я достаточно взрослая, чтобы ударить тебя каблуком."
("Exactly. I'm old enough to hit you with my heel.")
His smile widened.
"Вот теперь я узнаю свою Ишиту."
("Now that's the Ishita I know.")
For a brief moment, the cameras and security and endless questions disappeared.
It was just us.
Like always.
Then we crossed the doors.
And the world changed.
The venue was breathtaking.
Massive chandeliers hung from the ceiling like frozen waterfalls of crystal. Marble floors reflected warm golden light. Waiters moved silently between groups of guests carrying champagne and delicate appetizers.
Music drifted through the hall.
Laughter rose from one corner.
Business conversations murmured from another.
Everywhere I looked, there were expensive suits, designer gowns, polished smiles, and people whose names appeared in newspapers often enough to make them recognizable even to someone like me.
I had learned long ago that wealth didn't necessarily make people happier.
It simply gave them better places to hide their unhappiness.
Alexei leaned slightly toward me.
"Мама будет здесь через час."
"Mama will be here in an hour."
My expression immediately softened.
"Правда?"
"Really?"
"Она хотела тебя увидеть."
"She wanted to see you."
A warmth spread through my chest.
Elena Volkova.
She wasn't my mother.
But there had been moments when I had forgotten that.
She had taught me things my own mother never had the chance to teach me. She had helped me adjust to a country that had once felt impossibly foreign. She had corrected my Russian, chosen clothes for important occasions, scolded me when I skipped meals, and somehow always knew when I was pretending to be fine.
"Скажи ей, что я тоже соскучилась."
"Tell her I missed her too."
Alexei smiled.
"Она уже знает."
"She already knows."
A waiter passed with a tray of champagne.
Alexei picked up two glasses and handed one to me.
I raised an eyebrow.
"За что пьём?"
"What are we drinking to?"
He looked around the hall.
His gaze moved over the wealthy men, the politicians, the businessmen, the security personnel.
Then he raised his glass.
"За выживание ещё одного вечера с акулами."
("To surviving another evening with the sharks.")
I laughed.
A real laugh.
The tension finally loosened from my shoulders.
"Тогда я выпью за это дважды."
("Then I'll drink to that twice.")
Our glasses touched.
The sound was soft beneath the music.
For a few minutes, everything felt normal.
Alexei greeted people as we moved through the room.
Men twice his age shook his hand with respect.
Some women smiled warmly at me.
Others looked at me with the quiet curiosity of people trying to determine exactly what I was to him.
Alexei introduced me the same way every time.
"Ишита Раджванши, моя близкая подруга."
("Ishita Rajvanshi, my close friend.")
Always the same words.
Close friend.
Never anything else.
I had noticed that.
Perhaps because sometimes, when he said them, something unreadable flickered behind his eyes.
Something I couldn't quite name.
But I never allowed myself to examine it.
Alexei was my best friend.
My family.
That was enough.
It had to be.
The orchestra shifted into a slower piece.
I turned slightly, letting my gaze wander across the hall.
That's when I noticed them.
A group of men stood near the far side of the room, speaking quietly.
They weren't laughing.
They weren't drinking.
They weren't trying to impress anyone.
They simply stood there.
Power seemed to surround them without effort.
The kind of men whose names could move markets.
The kind whose decisions could change other people's lives without those people ever knowing who had made them.
My gaze passed over them casually.
And then stopped.
One man stood slightly apart from the others.
Tall.
Still.
Completely composed.
His face held no obvious emotion.
Not anger.
Not amusement.
Nothing.
His expression was carved from something colder than the marble beneath our feet.
He wasn't speaking.
He wasn't smiling.
He simply watched.
The room.
The doors.
The guests.
The security.
Every entrance and every movement seemed to register somewhere in his mind.
He didn't look like a man attending a party.
He looked like a man assessing a battlefield.
I couldn't explain why I noticed him.
Perhaps because everyone else was performing.
He wasn't.
His gaze moved across the room.
And for one brief second-
it met mine
I froze.
There was nothing warm in his eyes.
Nothing inviting.
Just an unsettling stillness.
Then someone walked between us.
The moment disappeared.
"Ишита?"
"Ishita?"
Alexei's voice pulled me back.
I blinked.
"Извини."
("Sorry.")
I shook my head lightly.
"Просто задумалась."
("I just got lost in thought.")
Alexei followed my gaze.
Only for a second.
But I saw the change.
His jaw tightened.
Barely.
So subtly that anyone else might have missed it.
I didn't.
I turned toward him.
"Что случилось?"
("What happened?")
"Ничего."
("Nothing.")
His answer came too quickly.
I studied his face.
"Ты так говоришь только тогда, когда что-то случилось."
("You only say that when something has happened.")
A faint smile appeared on his lips.
But it didn't reach his eyes.
He stepped slightly closer.
"Держись рядом со мной сегодня, хорошо?"
("Stay close to me tonight, okay?")
I frowned.
"Хорошо."
("Okay.")
Then I lowered my voice.
"Но почему ты так это сказал?"
("But why did you say it like that?")
For the first time that evening, Alexei didn't have an immediate answer.
His eyes moved past me.
Toward the man.
The stranger was still standing exactly where he'd been.
Still watching.
Alexei looked back at me.
His expression had already changed again.
Calm.
Controlled.
Familiar.
"Просто предчувствие."
("Just a feeling.")
I stared at him.
"У тебя редко бывают просто чувства."
("You rarely have feelings without a reason.")
His smile faded slightly.
"Сегодня просто доверься мне."
("Tonight, just trust me.")
Something about those words made my smile disappear.
I nodded.
"Я тебе доверяю."
("I trust you.")
For a moment, something softened in his eyes.
Then the music grew louder.
Someone called his name from across the room.
Alexei turned away.
And I looked once more toward the stranger.
He was gone.
My eyes searched the crowd.
Nothing.
No trace of him.
I should have forgotten about it.
I should have returned to the evening,
to Elena's arrival, to Alexei's jokes and the endless conversations surrounding us.
Instead, an inexplicable uneasiness settled quietly inside my chest.
I didn't know his name.
I didn't know who he was.
I didn't know why Alexei had suddenly become cautious.
And I certainly didn't know why a single glance from a stranger had left me with the strange feeling that something in my life had just shifted.
I only knew one thing.
The night had barely begun.
And somehow-
it already felt different.
As if, without my knowing it, the course of my life had just crossed with someone else's.
Someone I had never met.
Someone I would not be able to forget.
