Some would say I had every right to hate and resent my sister. I didn’t. I loved Isabella. It wasn’t her fault, but our family’s. She’d been raised to believe she was a princess who deserved all the attention, while I’d been taught to expect what I got and to be grateful for it.

With Slavik’s hand on my back, the other holding my hand, we danced. The tune was soft, not too slow that it required us to stand close to one another, but not fast enough to create a good distance. Being this close to him terrified me.

I’d heard the rumors of just how deadly this man was. He was feared far and wide. The women gossiped about how he had the ability to tear apart a man with his bare hands.

I didn’t even know if that was possible. Fear ran down my back, and I tried to ignore it.

Ivan’s words rang in my head about how men liked to have a woman who talked back. Not in my experience they didn’t. They liked a quiet, submissive woman who was pretty and spat out sons. There, I’d said it, albeit in my head.

“What was Volkov talking to you about?” Slavik asked.

“I’m sorry?”

“You heard me.”

I did, but I was buying time. This wasn’t a conversation I wished to have with my husband. How did I get out of this?

“He talked about the party.”

“And?”

“Nothing more.” I wasn’t about to tell him the man’s advice.

Slavik’s hand tightened at my waist. I didn’t know if he was trying to warn me, or if he just had to hold me a little tighter.

“How are you enjoying the party?” I asked.

“It’s a fucking party, Aurora. How do you think?”

His harsh tone had me flinching. Of course. I was being treated like a fucking dumb woman. Rather than look into his dark, almost black eyes, I went back to staring at his chest. Had Ivan given me that advice on purpose?

Either way, I wasn’t going to use it.

Once the dance ended, Slavik told me that my driver, Sergei, was going to take me home.

Without another word, Slavik kissed my cheek and handed me to Sergei. No doubt he was going to be fucking the woman who had been hanging off his arm.

Against my better judgment, I looked toward Ivan, who watched me. He raised his glass in my direction, and I offered him a smile.

Staring down at the floor, I followed Sergei out to the waiting car. He held open the back passenger door, and I slid inside. The noise from the building seemed to grow louder, but I ignored it.

Parties had never been my thing. The fear of something bad happening always lingered in the air.

I was growing tired of living in fear. Resting my head back against the car seat, I didn’t bother looking back to see the building. Instead, I stared out the window at the passing scenery.