Page 45 of The Pakhan’s Unwanted Bride

By evening, we've covered everything twice. Gregory heads out to coordinate with the external security team, and I find myself walking through the estate's main hall, restless.

I come across Benedikt standing in the shadows near the library entrance. He's watching something through the open doorway, and I follow his gaze to see Ana inside, curled up in one of the leather chairs with a book. The lamplight catches her hair, and she looks peaceful and beautiful… almost untouchable.

Benedikt's expression is open for once, clearly showing his feelings for her. He must sense my presence because his head snaps toward me. For one second, our eyes meet. Then his expression shutters, going carefully blank as he straightens and walks away.

But not before I capture the haunted expression of a man in agony, watching a woman he loves but can never have, the woman who will be marrying another man tomorrow.

23

ANA

Iwake before dawn knowing that by sunset, I will no longer be Anastasia Rostova.

The realization settles over me like a heavy burden. In a few hours, I'll become Anastasia Galkin. The name feels foreign, like trying on someone else's identity. I lie in the darkness of my suite and watch the sky shift from black to deep purple, then to soft pink as dawn breaks.

A soft knock interrupts my thoughts. "Princess Anastasia, we're here to help you prepare."

I sit up slowly, pulling my silk robe tighter around my body. "Come in."

Three women enter, each carrying garment bags and boxes. The oldest approaches me with a small velvet box.

"From the Aristocrat Wives' Circle," she says quietly, opening the lid.

Inside rests the centuries-old bridal heirloom that the women had given me the other night. A delicate necklace of white gold with a huge emerald surrounded by diamonds, the centerpiece an intricate design representing the union of bloodlines. The craftsmanship is exquisite, each stone perfectly placed.

I reach out and touch the necklace gently. The metal is cool against my fingertips. And the enormity of what I'm doing today nearly takes my breath away. In some ways, I'm excited to take this next journey in my life, and more than just a little anxious to experience the marriage bed. If what Samuil and I have shared so far is any indication, sex with him is going to be mind-blowing.

And for some stupid reason, that's all I can think about. Even as I know today will change our world forever, all I can concentrate on is Samuil's hard body and how well we fit together.

The next hour passes in a blur. They help me into the dress my father arranged. I was surprised, and pleased, that he'd let me choose the style, at least. The dress is a masterpiece of ivory silk and French lace, the bodice fitted perfectly with delicate beading that catches the light. The neckline sits just off my shoulders. The sleeves are long and sheer, made entirely of lace. The skirt falls in soft layers to the floor, with a subtle train that whispers against the hardwood.

It's not the grand royal gown I once imagined wearing. But as I look at myself in the mirror, I realize this dress is perfect. Elegant and timeless, befitting a woman marrying into one of the most powerful Bratva families in America. Perfect for a princess having a small and intimate wedding.

The attendants style my hair in soft waves that cascade down my back, pinning one side up and fastening it with a simple diamond clip. They apply makeup with a light hand. When they finally clasp the heirloom necklace around my throat, I barely recognize the woman staring back at me.

I look like a bride. I'm not sure what I expected to look like, but I'm pretty pleased with the outcome. And then tears gather in my eyes. I wish with all my heart my mother were here to give me words of wisdom and hug me before I walk down the aisle. How can I miss someone I've never even met so much?

"You're ready, Princess," the silver-haired woman says softly, breaking me out of my morbid thoughts.

I turn to them with what I hope is a gracious smile and quietly sniff, then discreetly wipe at the tears that had started to fall. "Thank you. Could you give me a few moments alone?"

They nod and file out quietly.

I stand in front of the mirror and make a silent vow. I may not have wanted this marriage, but I will make the best of it. I will make it work, no matter what it takes. Our families' history sits like a great wall between us, but that doesn't mean we can't figure out a way to break down that wall.

Another knock, softer this time.

"Come in."

Benedikt steps inside, dressed in a formal black suit. His expression is carefully controlled, but I know him too well. I can see the sadness in his eyes and the tension in his shoulders.

"You look beautiful, Princess," he says quietly.

"Thank you." I turn to face him fully. "You didn't have to come."

"Yes, I did." He moves closer but stops a respectful distance away. "I'm not going to let you walk into the most important moment of your life without saying something."

My throat tightens. "What do you want to say?"