3

He wasn’t what she expected.

Serena stood in front of the mirror, her fingers resting lightly against the edge of the vanity. Her reflection stared back at her, calm, composed, untouched. Anyone looking at her would think she was perfectly fine, perfectly in control. But beneath that still surface, her thoughts were restless, circling back to him again and again.

Though she might not show it, she was scared. She may appear calm and collected outside, but deep in her soul, she just wanted to run away and never be found. The girl was stressed for her life.

He was worse than she had imagined. Not louder, not cruel in obvious ways, not reckless like the men she had always been warned about. Victor Volkov was controlled in a way that felt unnatural, almost unsettling. And men like him… didn’t break easily. 

The boutique lingered in her mind long after she returned home. Every glance he gave her, every silence he held, every word he chose not to say all replayed with quiet precision. She could still feel the weight of his presence, not overpowering, not suffocating, but constant. Like something that refused to be ignored.

She hadn’t wanted to go today. This dress selection was all her father's plan. She hadn’t wanted to stand in front of Victor again so soon, to be observed, measured, and judged without a single unnecessary word. But refusing had never been an option. Not anymore. 

Her father had made sure of that.

“You will marry him.”

His voice had been cold when he said it, controlled in a way that mirrored Victor more than she liked. Serena had stood in front of him, her hands clenched at her sides, forcing herself to stay steady.

“I don’t want this,” she had said, her voice firm, refusing to break.

Her father hadn’t raised his voice. He never needed to. He had simply looked at her, his gaze sharp and knowing, as if he could see straight through her resistance.

“You don’t have the luxury of wanting,” he replied, his voice so sharp and cold that it made her eyes misty.

Silence had followed, heavy enough to press against her chest. She had swallowed hard, steadying herself before speaking again.

“You’re asking me to marry a man I don’t know,” she said, her chin lifting slightly.

“I’m telling you,” he corrected, his tone leaving no room for misunderstanding.

There had been a pause after that, one that stretched just long enough to make her uneasy. Then his voice lowered, quieter, colder.

“And you will do it… unless you want me to reconsider certain arrangements.”

That was the moment her breath had caught.

Just for a second, but he had seen it; he always did.

That was the real problem. Not Victor. Not the marriage. It was what her father held over her, something fragile, something precious, something she couldn’t risk losing. And because of that, she had no choice but to stand there and accept it. And deep in her heart, she knew her father was cruel. She was a pawn, and if she objected, he would simply eliminate her without remorse.

Serena blinked, pulling herself back to the present as a soft knock sounded on her door.

“Miss Moretti?”

“I’m fine,” she replied quickly, her voice steady despite everything swirling inside her.

The footsteps retreated, leaving her alone once again. She let out a slow breath and turned back to the mirror, studying herself carefully. There was no fear on her face, no hesitation, nothing that could be used against her. That was how it had to be. She had learned to mask her fear from a young age, ever since she realised how the monsters thrive in your fear.

Victor’s face surfaced in her thoughts again, uninvited but persistent. Those sharp blue eyes, observant and unyielding, seemed to miss nothing. He hadn’t looked at her the way other men did. There had been no softness, no admiration, no obvious hunger.

Just a calculation and disinterest.

And somehow, that unsettled her more.

Her fingers tightened slightly as she thought about the moment in the boutique. The zipper. She hadn’t needed help, not really. She could have called someone else, could have waited, could have handled it on her own.

But she hadn’t.

She had called him.

“Victor.”

Even now, his name felt deliberate in her mind, heavy with meaning. He hadn’t come immediately, which hadn’t surprised her. A man like him didn’t respond to commands. But eventually, he had stepped in.

And for a brief moment, she had wondered what he would do. She was scared, her heart was beating so fast she thought he might hear it, but she masked her fear.

Just for that test, she put herself in a sacrificed position. What if he did try to touch her inappropriately? What then? She shouldn't have taken such a risk, but she wanted to prepare herself for what she was stepping into.

Would he touch her carelessly? Would he take advantage of the situation? Would he lose control, even slightly? Men like him usually did.

Eventually.

But he hadn’t.

He hadn’t even looked at her properly. His movements had been precise, controlled, almost detached as he fixed the zipper. Then he had stepped back, creating distance instantly, as if the moment had meant nothing to him.

Serena frowned slightly at her reflection. That wasn’t normal. Not for someone like him.

He was dangerous. That much she knew without question.

But he wasn’t careless. And that made him far more dangerous than she had anticipated.

But deep in her heart, she felt a slight peace knowing he wasn't lusting after her. She was sure he wouldn't touch her even after the wedding, and she was at peace about it.

She moved toward the window, her gaze drifting over the city below. Lights flickered endlessly, people moving through their lives without hesitation, without fear. It looked free.

She didn’t feel free.

Her thoughts shifted again, pulling her back to the moment outside the boutique. The fall had happened so quickly that she hadn’t even had time to react. One second she had been walking, the next she had lost her balance completely.

And then...

He was there.

His arm had wrapped around her waist instantly, steady and unyielding, stopping her fall before it even happened. Serena stilled at the memory, her fingers pressing lightly against the cool glass of the window. His body was too warm. Too close...

He hadn’t hesitated. He hadn’t paused to think. He had simply acted.

Like it was instinct.

She remembered the way his hand had felt, firm and certain, not rough but not gentle either. Just present. Grounding in a way she hadn’t expected.

For a brief second, she hadn’t been afraid of falling. But then she had looked up. And everything had changed.

He had been too close, too still, his presence overwhelming in a way that made her chest tighten. The fear had returned instantly, sharper than before, more real.

She had pulled away without thinking, needing distance, needing space. Because that was the truth she couldn’t ignore.

Victor Volkov was not someone she could trust. Not someone she could rely on. Not someone she could allow herself to feel anything around. And yet, he hadn’t held her longer than necessary. He hadn’t tightened his grip or used the moment to his advantage. He had simply let go.

That was what stayed with her.

Serena turned back to the mirror, her expression unchanged, but her thoughts far from steady. He wasn’t what she had expected, and that made him unpredictable. And unpredictable men were dangerous.

But controlled men?

They were lethal.

Her fingers lifted slowly, brushing against her collarbone, then higher, resting lightly at the side of her neck. She paused there, her breath slowing as her thoughts settled into something quieter, something sharper.

He thought he was in control. That much was obvious in the way he carried himself, in the way he spoke, in the way he observed everything around him.

And maybe he was.

For now.

But Serena wasn’t weak. She wasn’t careless, and she wasn’t blind to the way he operated. She saw the control, the restraint, the precision in every movement he made. And that meant one thing.

He could be tested.

Carefully.

Slowly.

Not broken.

But understood.

Her lips pressed together as her gaze hardened just slightly. She wasn’t doing this because she wanted to. She was doing it because she had to survive in his den. Because fighting him directly wasn’t an option she could afford. And surviving this meant adapting.

Choosing her moments.

Choosing her battles.

Victor was not someone she could overpower, not someone she could outmatch in strength or authority. But understanding him… that was something else entirely. And understanding him could change everything. She'd stay low and out of his radar and hope that he'd forget that she existed in his life.

Serena exhaled slowly, her fingers still resting against her neck, lingering there without thought. The place where his hand had almost been. The place where his presence still felt too close.

Her heartbeat picked up slightly, but she ignored it.

This marriage would happen. There was no escaping it, no way out, no alternative waiting for her. There was only one path forward.

Endure.

Survive.

Adapt.

Her gaze locked onto her reflection once more, steady and unwavering. This marriage would destroy her freedom, her life, her future, but it wasn't like she had anything different now.

But if he tried to make her life hell, she would destroy him first.