Some days, I wish we were more alike. Maybe then, college life would have felt more fulfilling and hopeful, a way to branch out and leave all this behind. But the pull and intrigue of the only life I’ve known has always had its claws wedged deep into my heart.
“I kissed him, Ann,” I say, suddenly emotional. My sister gasps and pulls me into a tight hug.
“It’s okay. Maybe his rejection is exactly what you need to move on.” “No...he sat me on his lap and kissed me back.”
Her mouth falls open.
“Well, shit.”
“Yeah.”
“What does this mean, Lee? You know that—”
“I know. But I don’t care. Papá loves me. He’ll understand. And Mikhail is practically part of this family.”
Ann huffs a heavy breath. “Leah, you know how things work. He’s a Petrov.”
I storm to my feet and pace, my steps heavy. “Are we really so different, though?”
My sister catches my arm. “Maybe not”—she looks up at me, her voice softening and her eyes somber—“but in this family, you know your role.”
“Bullshit. I’m not marrying some random asshole. I won’t be auctioned off like livestock for money. You didn’t have to, so why should I?”
She hangs her head, and I instantly feel racked with guilt. In our world, daughters of powerful men are often betrothed to the sons of other powerful families in the hopes of gaining wealth and increasing assets. And not just by combining last names, but by producing heirs. Like Ann, women who can’t bear children are free to choose their paths. And frankly, I’m not sure who’s the lucky one between us.
“I’m sorry,” I say, sitting beside her and throwing an arm around her shoulder. “I wasn’t thinking.”
“I’m sure it’s been quite a night for you.” She shoves me back and flashes a slow smile. “How about a movie night? Your pick.”
“I’ll probably be asleep twenty minutes in, but let’s do it.”
Ann jumps to her feet. “I’ll get the popcorn started,” she chirps excitedly and heads for the door. “I’m glad you’re home.”
The moment it clicks, I pull the towel from my hair and close my eyes as the long, damp tendrils tumble over my shoulders. “Me too,” I sigh, letting myself collapse onto the bed.
CHAPTER 3
LEAH
The scent of eggs, bacon, and coffee takes me back to childhood. I follow it to the kitchen, where my parents dance to an old-school song I recognize as one from their wedding. It’s a cumbia that has been on repeat since I was a little girl, especially on Saturday mornings—the only day of the week when life moved slowly, with no obligations, church, school, or work.
It was the one day our family felt normal.
I observe my parents from the doorway, unable to suppress a smile as they twirl and laugh around the island. Their marriage was arranged, of course, but my mother fell madly in love almost immediately. And while what they built is beautiful, it’s rare, and I hate that my father tries to use their relationship against me. He’ll never understand that my heart is already taken.
“Mija! You’re up early.” My mother giggles when he dips her as the song’s last note fades.
“I’m still in another time zone,” I lie. In reality, I barely slept. My brain was too busy replaying my kiss with Mikhail.
“Well, fix your breakfast. We’re headed out. And wait thirty minutes before you get in the water,” she says, eyeing the bikini strap poking out of my oversized t-shirt.
I roll my eyes like a good daughter should and grab a mug from the cabinet. My father leaves without so much as a good morning. He’s not speaking to me after I came clean about dropping out of school last night. He didn’t say much then either, but something tells me he’s already plotting the next steps of my life without my consent—or so he thinks.
The doorbell rings as I pour my coffee, followed by an unexpected voice.
Mikhail.
I toss my cup into the sink and pull my hair out of the messy bun at the top of my head. “Leah’s in the kitchen,” I hear my mom say.
He’s asking for me.
Drawing in a deep breath, I rest my elbows on the counter...but it pushes my boobs together, and I’m worried it will make me look too desperate.
It’s not like you weren’t dry humping him in his car or anything.
I switch positions and lean over the back of a stool.
But now I look stupid, like I’m waiting for him.
Fuck.
Dashing toward the fridge, I grab a bowl of blueberries and pop a handful into my mouth.
Shit.
Now, I’ll have a mouthful of food when he greets me.
