Natalia Alianovna Romanova Novels & Stories

"Speaking of love, here's our girl." I followed his gaze to where a tall, dark-haired lady cut a path through a group of drunken men with more money than sense. Each one attempted to grab her, and each one ended up having a black eye they would explain to their wives and girlfriends when they returned home. Green eyes. Tailored clothing to accentuate her figure and wealth, and a cold expression that made even the frozen lands of Greenland quiver. Vanessa Romanov. Daughter of the biggest mafia lord in Russia. Known to bring down even the strongest of men in the states down to their knees.

I needed this information badly. “Yes, there was only one female wolf. She is the daughter of the Moon Goddess!” mumbled Romanov as his body slumped to the mattress. Thankfully, he didn’t lose consciousness this time but dozed off to sleep. Maybe he would be better after the much-needed rest and I could again ask him later. Lena went into the bedroom to change while I cleaned up Romanov and changed his clothes. My oversized tee shirt and sweatpants fitted him perfectly. I threw away his tattered, soiled, foul-smelling clothes and relaxed a little.

I opened it. Anya Kovaleva. Born 2002, Moscow. Mother listed as deceased—our Elena’s mother, the same woman who had escaped the Kovalev family decades ago. Father unknown on paper, but the bloodline screamed truth. Anya had lived quietly: state orphanage until sixteen, then a string of low-profile jobs. Translator for small publishing houses. Freelance now. No criminal record. No social media footprint worth mentioning. Last known address: a cramped flat on the Fontanka Canal in St. Petersburg. Rent paid in cash every month. Smart. Paranoid. Exactly what a girl raised on whispers of mafia purges would be.

He and Volkov started whispering again. “This seems agreeable. Then, let us smooth over the finer details,” King Romanov declared, and thus, the marriage between Ivan Vasil and Ursa Romanova was decided.

Ivan walked toward me, standing by my side as we both looked at the two of them. “Didn’t he just say that he didn’t want to talk to her?” Ivan asked. I raised my hand, stopping Ivan, looking at the two of them, wanting to hear what he had to say. Romanov leaned down against her forehead, not touching her as he let his lips brush against it gently.

“Their women.” I narrowed my eyes. “Roman will have put every possible protection in place to make sure we don’t get anywhere near his wife or their children.” He made a dismissive gesture and took out his phone then showed it to us. On the screen was a young woman with beautiful hair and green eyes, standing beside Roman. She had the same aloof expression on her face. “Do you know her?” “That’s Aurora,” Ivan said slowly. “She’s Roman niece.” “You met her?”

“The man’s a snake. He’ll destroy anyone who gets in his way.” I nodded slowly, my mind racing. This was more than I’d hoped for. Boris wasn’t just Viktor’s enemy—he was a legacy of hatred and betrayal, the embodiment of everything the Romanovs stood against. “Thank you,” I said, forcing a smile. “For telling me.” Nikolai gave me a small nod. “Just be careful, Anya. This world… it eats people alive.” “I’ll keep that in mind,” I said, my voice steady.

I nearly spit out my tea, barely containing my laughter. Next to me, Natalia Romanova sat gracefully in a pastel-colored casual dress, her silvery-blonde hair swept up in an elegant bun. Beside her, Alexandr Romanov attempted to read the newspaper—attempted, because his eyes kept darting to his three children bickering like oversized toddlers. “I’m sorry, dear,” Natalia said softly, touching my arm with an apologetic but genuine smile. “We should’ve warned you that coming back to Moscow means walking straight into this family circus.”

she explains. " How are you feeling child?" an elder woman asks and I recognise her from the last meeting. " I am fine, a bit sore but alive." I say and she nods. " I guess it's already overdue that I introduce myself properly . My Name is Natasha Romanova, Wasili here is my grandson ." she says and I shake her hand. " Happy to meet you. Why are you helping us?" I ask curios.

Stefano said flatly, finishing his whiskey and handing the empty glass cup to Dino. "Poor girls, their demise," Renata said. "You see the woman over there?" She gestured with her glass of champagne towards a woman donned in diamonds and a snug beige gown, her greying hair pulled in a tight bun. “Her name is Nadezdha, she is Russian. She buys under-aged girls, and has them indulge in public brutal intercourse where they are publicly raped by several of her henchmen to entertain her visitors. Heard it's like a nuthouse. Medieval Roman Style anyway."