Page 40 of The Pakhan’s Unwanted Bride

"You should reconsider this marriage." His voice is low and urgent. "It's not too late to walk away."

"My father won't cancel the engagement," I reply quietly. "You know how this world works."

"You're the last royal heir." He moves closer, sitting on the edge of my bed, and covers my hand with his. "You have power they don't want you to realize."

"I never wanted this engagement." I pause, choosing my words carefully. "But Samuil is nothing like the man I expected him to be."

The confession hangs between us. Benedikt's expression shifts, something dark and wounded flickering across his features. His hand tightens over mine. Not too much. Not enough to cause pain, but it's a bit uncomfortable. Mostly because we've always been just friends. We've hugged and kissed each other on the cheeks, but this feels too… intimate, I guess.

"What do you mean?"

"I thought he'd be like every other powerful man I've met. Arrogant and controlling." I pull my hand free gently, then let out a small laugh and a shake of my head. "He is that, of course. I don't know that I've ever met a more arrogant and controlling man, and that's saying something. But he's complicated. When we talk, really talk, I see someone who understands things about me that no one else does."

"You can't be falling for him," Benedikt says, his voice cracking.

"I don't know what I'm feeling." The honesty surprises even me. "But I know that as I get to know him, I see more of the man beneath the Pakhan exterior.”

Benedikt stands abruptly, turning away from me. His shoulders are tense, his hands clenched into fists. The reaction confuses me. Why does my answer seem to hurt him so much?

"You deserve better than this," he says, then he leaves without another word.

The next morning, several cars pull through the estate gates. Four women emerge, all dressed impeccably, all carrying themselves with decades of power. What are the members of the Aristocrat Wives' Circle doing here? We didn't have a meeting scheduled. Especially not here. Samuil's been strict about who comes and goes since it's so soon to the wedding and after the attack on my father.

The housekeeper shows them in, and I stand to greet them. As the last Bratva royal heir, I expect deference. Instead, I'm met with cool smiles and barely concealed skepticism.

"Princess Anastasia." The eldest woman, silver-haired and sharp-eyed, extends her hand. "We've come to present you with something."

She gestures to one of the younger women, who steps forward carrying a velvet box. Inside is an ornate necklace, clearly antique.

"This is the traditional bridal heirloom," the eldest woman explains. "Worn by every significant Bratva bride for the past century."

My breath catches in my throat. "It's beautiful," I say, reaching for it, but she doesn't release the box right away. My gaze moves from the large emerald surrounded by diamonds to her face.

"We wanted to meet with you properly before the wedding. To ensure you understand what this marriage represents."

"I understand perfectly," I assure them, a bit pissed that they would even suggest I wouldn't understand the power and duty. For Christ's sake, I'm a princess! I've probably had a lot more formal training than all these women combined.

The eldest woman finally releases the box. "Being married to a Pakhan isn't the same as being a princess. The rules are different. The expectations are actually higher."

"I'm aware." Being a princess comes with a lot more of everything… responsibility, duties, meetings, luxury, and so on. A Pakhan’s wife is more dangerous. Even though the royals live in the Bratva world, most of it is on the outside. We're protected from the more gruesome aspects of the life. Not so much as the Pakhan’s wife.

"Are you?" The third woman leans forward. "Your title means nothing to us. You may be the last Rostova heir, but that earns you a seat at our table, not our respect. Respect must be earned."

The message is clear. My bloodline alone won't protect me in their world. It's as I expected from previous meetings. I just never thought they'd be so bold to flat out say so.

"I appreciate the heirloom." I take the box. "And I appreciate your honesty."

The eldest woman nods once. "Good. Then we'll see you at the wedding, Princess."

They leave as quickly as they arrived. I stand alone, holding the velvet box, feeling the weight of their judgment settling over me.

By afternoon, I need to escape the suffocating feeling, as if I'm drowning under all the weight of everything that's going on. I wander through the estate until I find myself near the library. The door is partially open, and I hear movement inside.

Samuil is alone at the large desk with several old journals spread out in front of him. He looks up, surprise flickering across his face before he schools his expression.

"Am I interrupting?" I ask from the doorway.

"No. Come in."