I stare at her. Her hair is long like mine, falling down her back like silk sheets—pale, blonde, straighter. Mine’s wavy. But we have the same eyes, and where I know I’m jaded, her face is soft. Trusting.
God, I miss being able to trust someone.
She wears tiny gold hoops and no other jewelry, except for a gold band on her wedding finger, and I have a line of earrings that go all the way up my ear, gold bangled bracelets, and rings on several fingers.
She extends her hand to me.
“Polina Kopolova. You must be Anissa.”
“Yes.”
I’m usually bolder than this. Braver. But right now, I feel like a child.
“It’s nice to meet you too—except, please understand, I just found out about you. I didn’t even know I had a sister.”
“I know,” she whispers. Something unexpected that I can’t quite name passes between us.
And then we’re hugging.
I never hug strangers. But this… this feels right.
This woman is my sister.
And I am completely unprepared for the way I react. My eyes sting with tears, my throat tightens, and I can barely swallow past the lump rising in my throat…
Until a deep voice clears his throat beside Polina, and I jump back as if waking from a dream.
Right. Her husband, Rafail Kopolov himself.Fuck.
Is this where he puts me in stocks or lines me up in front of a firing squad?
One of Moscow’s most feared. Tenacious. Ruthless.
His reputation precedes him—a hardened criminal who shows no mercy.
I let her go as if she’s hot to the touch and force myself to meet his gaze without flinching despite the cold, merciless ice in his eyes.
Should I say… I’m sorry?
He is the only one here I have a history with. And none of it is good.
“Anissa,” he greets, his voice even, unreadable. “I have to say, I’m surprised.”
“Life is full of surprises,” I answer, unsure of what, exactly, he’s surprised about.
Why did I say that?
“I didn’t expect you’d look like my wife’s double in an alternate universe.” Someone barks out a cough, but no one talks as Rafail’s gaze narrows on me, assessing. Cold. Unforgiving.
And then Matvei is beside me, between me and Rafail.
He’s bigger than Rafail. And though he is outranked, there’s a steadiness to his presence that makes it easier to breathe. Wordlessly, he presses his hand to the small of my back. “Remember your promise to me, cousin,” he says in a low, quiet voice.
Not for the first time, I’m grateful he’s so possessive.
Rafail’s eyes narrow just slightly. There’s a tick in his jaw.
Finally, after a long pause, he nods. “I never go back on my promises.”
