The Last Russian Doll Novels & Stories

“I’m busy lately.” “I heard what happened. So, what’s bothering you, Terzo?” “About Ruslan Olezka.” He turned and faced me. “He’s in prison. Why are you worried?” “I want some information that I couldn’t get from him. I think he was the one who sent me a black Dahlia. I went to see him in prison this morning, but he denied it, and somehow, I believed him. I asked something, but he refused to answer unless I kill a man named Ivor Yrosov, who took over his territory.”

After I gave in, Peyton Shepherd let out a knowing, cold snort. "Serena, I knew you were just playing the victim! Same old tricks to get my attention. It's disgusting!" He lifted his foot and kicked me hard in the stomach, trying to shove me away from the stretcher so that his secretary, Hannah Russell, could lie down on it. I had just been crushed by a falling pillar, and now, I was experiencing that crushing pain all over again. The agony left me speechless. My body spasmed reflexively, and I curled into a trembling ball.

She has to buy more than one doll for Rosie as she was known for spoiling her dolls quicker than expected. Once she lost interest in the doll, she would tear its parts to check what was contained in it and what exactly was the thing singing. Once she satisfies her curiosity by tearing the doll apart, then it’s finished. She would simply throw the poor shattered doll aside and pick a new one. Funny right?

In his penthouse in the Heaven & Sea Restaurant, Russell stared at the sex doll lying on his bed that he named Sherry. 'Sweetie, I hate to part with you. Now that your twins and I are no longer in a relationship, I must ditch you. If I keep you in bed, you always remind me of her. I won't be able to forget Sherry, and I can't move on if you always remind me of her. So I have to get rid of you. I'm sorry..." Russell picked up the sex doll, hugged it tightly for the last time, and then put it back in her box.

I'm the only person she trusts not to read her diary so she made me keep it because she fears her brother Jax finds out about her secrets. "Diary huh, never thought someone still writing on diaries in this generation" and they laughed. "Jade please, give that back to me" I requested almost begging. "Aw, let me read a page first," she said and they all cheered. "Let's have a random page, uhm..." Valerie grinned and acted as if thinking. "Open it on the 6th page!" She squealed. "No, please! Just give it back!" I panicked and tried to snatch the book but Enzo quickly held my hand and smirked before letting me go as he walked towards Jade's.

Anya did not know what to say to that, so she just hummed one of Morozko’s winter lullabies to herself and absorbed the scenic view. They made their way to the vendors at the foot of Sparrow Hills. “Look. Wooden nesting dolls! Like the matroyshka I used to have,” Anya said. Morozko nodded, his gaze stolen by something else. “What are you looking at?” Anya asked, distracted. Morozko blushed, taking the object into his hand. “What is it?” Anya pressed against him, struggling to see. It was a tortoiseshell comb with mother-of-pearl inlay in the shape of a fruiting tree.

It was the complete and total absence of hesitation in her eyes. He remembered the Claire who used to sit cross-legged beside him at midnight on a drafty apartment floor, gently rubbing his shoulders while helping him rewrite his slides, whispering that he could build an empire. This woman didn’t look like she needed an empire. She didn’t look like she needed a single thing from him to survive. “Is this personal, Claire?” he asked suddenly, the raw question breaking through his billionaire mask. Rebecca looked up sharply from her tablet, her brow furrowing.

One of them dropped a delicate porcelain doll, which shattered on the floor with a sharp crack. Ryan rushed forward and bent down to pick up the broken pieces. It was a doll he'd brought back from Russia a year ago—a small trinket he'd picked up on a whim while traveling. It wasn't expensive. Just a simple souvenir. But he remembered how much Harper had loved it. He even teased her about it at the time, joking that a girl from a wealthy family like hers must've seen far better things. But she had just looked up at him and smiled, her eyes brimming with affection.

I asked. “There’s no need for that. We already dug it out,” Delilah said, and opened the big bag she was carrying after which she gave a wrapped parcel to me. I collected it carefully, then unwrapped it slowly as everyone looked on eagerly. Once the parcel was revealed, I nearly dropped it as a reflex action. It was a wooden doll; the ugliest kind of doll. It seemed like it had been burnt in fire and like they had described, it was tied with strings and ropes, and looked really frightening.

"What do you mean the dress is ready?" She shrugged her shoulders. "He only had to look at your pictures to know what size you were." "And you are quite the perfect size." The man said to me and I smiled. "What's your name?" I asked. "Pablo." "Italian?" "Yes." "Oh nice. Italians make the best dresses." I said, trying to sound nice. "That should be french make the best drrsses." Gabrielle corrected and I threw her a wry look. Pablo unboxed some of the boxes and brought out a beautiful red dress with lots of stones on it. The fabric of the dress was just so hard to resist and I had no option but to run my hands through it.