Page 8 of The Pakhan’s Heir

I don’t know what to do with this. I’m not prepared to be a spy any more than I am to be someone’s wife. And what if he’s ugly? Or gross? Or just wholly unattractive in one way or another?

This is probably worse than being locked up in my room. I kind of wish Papa would come back and lock me back in.

“Hurry up.”

Nikolai’s on the other side of the door. He’s one of my father’s enforcers and he’s as big as he is wide. As we were walking through the mall in his black suit, sunglasses on, he looked less like a bodyguard and more like a giant war dog at my side. I did my best to ignore the looks we got all the way to this store.

I’ve managed to find a couple of adequate dresses. The one I’m trying on now is black, long-sleeved, with a hem that goes right down to my knees and no cleavage. The neckline is practically a turtleneck. I look at myself in the mirror and scowl. I look like I’m going to a funeral.

The other two I picked out are just variations of this one. I can’t choose anything too flashy or too short or showing any hint of cleavage. Papa would be very happy if I showed up to this dinner like I’m his sweet little chastity belt.

This whole thing reeks of a medieval wedding and I hate it. And now that I think about it, I’m actually surprised he’s gone through the effort of having me even meet this guy. He’d probably just be fine with shoving me down the aisle on the day of the wedding.

Dammit. I don’t even know this guy’s name.

Over the years, I’ve learned some names of my father’s enemies and associates off and on, but I have to admit, I haven’t the slightest idea who Fedor Molotov’s son is. In fact, I don’t know all that much about the Rostov gang outside of the bits and pieces that Father’s fed me over the years.

And here the very first impression of me is going to be in what amounts to a nun’s gown. All I need is a habit to complete it.

“Nona,” I hear Nikolai prod from the other side of the changing room door.

“One second,” I call back. This whole setup is ass.

I take off the dress and start putting on my clothes. I guess it doesn’t matter which one I choose as long as it covers most of my body. I decide on the last nun’s habit I tried on and open the door.

Nikolai’s standing there waiting for me. I huff. “You know this is the ladies’ changing room. You could give me a little space.”

“Your father told me to keep a close eye on you,” he says.

I motion around the hallway full of half open changing room doors. “Where am I going to go? All I have is my father’s credit card. I didn’t even drive here.” He just stares at me with a blank expression. “Just stand at the entrance. I’ll be right out.”

He looks me over carefully, then turns and walks toward the entrance. And I stand here watching him go, holding these ugly dresses in my arms.

At the very least, I should be able to wear what I want. If the point is to spy on the Rostov gang, then I should, at least, turn some heads. After all, who’s going to believe that anyone would want to marry me in one of these things?

It is what it is, I guess. I leave the changing room and put two of the dresses back, holding the one that I guess I’m going to wear in my arms. I walk toward the door and past a bin full of discarded clothes… and I pause.

Why shouldn’t I wear what I want? If I show up at this dinner wearing something a little slutty, what’s Papa going to do? If I leave right on time, he won’t risk getting into it with me and making me late. And either way, the bottom line is that he’s going to want to look good in front of the Rostovs. I’m sure to pay for that kind of disobedience later.

Might be worth it if I can gain approval with Fedor’s son, though. I push some of the dresses aside and immediately come across fire engine red material. I pull out the dress and suddenly, I’m faced with a cocktail dress with a cut so low in the front, I’d have to go braless if I were to wear it.

If my father saw me in this, he’d lose his mind.

But I’m sure to get the attention of my would-be husband. And whatever happened after the dinner, well, that is the whole point of all this.

I grab the dress and go back into the changing room. I toss the nun’s tunic to the side, jump out of my clothes, and shimmy into this little red cocktail dress.

It’s tight around my hips and the hem comes to the middle of my thighs… but oh, my, do I look good in this. I turn around to get a good look at my ass in the dress. It’s riding high enough to lift the hem just a little more.

I turn back around and look at myself full on. Sexy, red-headed girl in a sexy red dress. My eyes fall to my cleavage. The dress isn’t cut all the way down to my navel, but it is a few inches above it. My tits are sitting full and high and enticing, even without the bra.

It’s a risk. A big risk. But… it’ll be worth it if Fedor’s son is a little more enthusiastic about this union.

I take one last long look at myself in the dress, then I take it off. I grab the nun’s tunic and one of the other chastity dresses and wedge the red dress between them so that Nikolai doesn’t notice when I pay for them.

“Ready to go,” I say when I walk out of the dressing room. I don’t wait for Nikolai to acknowledge me. I just walk for the checkout counter. He follows, but he’s also too busy looking around me for any danger that might be lurking between the racks of clothing.

The checkout girl takes the clothes and rings them up and I pay for them with my father’s credit card, and out of the store I go. Mission accomplished.