Natalia Alianovna Romanova Novels & Stories

Ami the chef and her assistant were leaning close to each other, whispering as they chopped vegetables. I stepped in quietly to get water, but they didn’t notice. “Katya Morozova is coming today,” Ami whispered. My hand paused on the glass. The assistant gasped. “After so long? Madam Nadia will be so happy. Everyone knows she always wanted Katya for Master Roman.” My throat tightened before I could stop it. “She grew up here,” Ami continued. “Whenever the Morozovs visited, Roman used to follow her like a little shadow. You know how boys are when they like—”

Rosa said before coming out of the kitchen to see her teary daughter and Blair, Luca and I behind her. "What's going on?" she asked, getting concerned whilst looking at Blair and Luca's suits and my dress. "I found my mate, Mom," Bella sobbed. "And he's an Alpha from Russia and Leo is fighting him at this current moment." "Oh dear Lord," Rosa exclaimed. "Come through into the kitchen," she said, putting one arm around Bella and beckoning us with her other. "Antonio!" she called. "Antonio!" Antonio came down the stairs followed by Mateo.

~ Mira "As for Romanov it is only mentioned that Darvin Romanov married to Margaret who was an orphan and after their marriage they settled their business in Sochin. And for Smirnov here is the photo of his marriage with his secretary who was also his classmate and a good friend" Berk than showed Lilianah the article where the photo was glued. Lilianah furrowed her brows "She is Tuna twin sister of Luna, that means she is alive" "Should we GI and ask for her help. She may know something about all this." Berk added.

I asked. Vincenzo didn’t look surprised. Nazyr continued, voice steady but weighted. “In Russia, she had another name. Another life.” My pulse thundered. “Say it,” I demanded. “She was Angelina Siankovski.” The room tilted. Siankovski. The name of one of the oldest bloodlines in the Russian Bratva. A name whispered with fear. A name tied to Nazyr himself. A name I grew up hating my whole life.

(Flashback) “So, what do you think of Ms. Novikoff?” Ivan’s younger sister, Marina Volkov, asked with evident curiosity, her eyebrows raised so high they practically touched her forehead. “She’s good,” Ivan replied, realizing that a simple “good” couldn’t do justice to the breathtaking Anastasia Novikoff. She possessed long, dark hair and piercing hazel eyes that exuded a certain innocence, kindness, and thoughtfulness. There was something about her that made his entire chest radiate like the sun, igniting a desire for her that surpassed any other woman he had ever longed for. Even hours after their second meeting, he was still buzzing with the overwhelming need to see her again. His fingert

Or is he just older than he looks? “Dad, Leonardo and Natalia Moretti,” Dmitri says, finishing the introductions. It doesn’t escape my notice that he deliberately does not mention Leo’s title, a silent fuck you to him. My brother doesn’t seem to care, too preoccupied with staring at the man in front of him. I catch the faint glint of respect in his eyes as he stands and extends his hand for a handshake. “It’s an honor to meet you, Volkov. Your reputation preceds you.”

Why couldn't I protect Viktor the way you wanted him to be protected? My mind drifted back to the sad smile Viktor had on his face as I grabbed his bloody hand. My hands trembling. Like he knew he would die, I heard him calling and scolding her not up to one house before he died. “Promise me you'll protect Anya, Roman.” His voice drifted deeper and deeper into my head. “Protect her and make sure they don't get to her.” I had sworn I would protect her. I had carved the oath into my very bones. She's the only one I have left to protect now.

"The Romanov seat is formally reinstated." The chair is no longer empty. Isabella Romanov Moretti sits at the council table, the first woman in the history of the East Coast to hold a seat, and I can physically feel the room rearrange itself around me. Konstantin Orlov stands up abruptly. He turns on his heel and walks out of the wine cellar, carrying the news of his defeat back to Sergei Volkov. Marchetti gives me a slow, respectful nod, accepting the new reality of his world. Vasquez raises his crystal glass of scotch in my direction, a silent salute between two people who understand the cost of power.

“Someone else? Don't tell me this place has more specimens worthy of study?” “A rare, elusive, unbearably functional one, the kind you like so much,” she said, opening the door for her. “His name is Dominic.” “Dominic...” Natalia repeated, as if saving the name for later. “He sounds like the kind of guy who thinks he has everything under control.” “He does. Until today.” They went inside. Roman was in the living room, reviewing some documents. He barely looked up, greeting them with a distant wave and a “good morning.”

The folder made me suspicious before she spoke. “Need I ask what this is?” I asked. The woman inclined her head. “Your schedule, Luna.” “Do not call me Luna,” I said. “You can call by my name, Valeria.” The maid flinched. The new woman did not. “My name is Yelena. I oversee household arrangements for the Romanov family. And I believe that you should be called Luna. Given your status, you wouldn’t want mistakes within the household staff or pack members.”