Chapter 7 Marlena
Someone was watching me. Someone who was not Nikolai.
I paced around my room with my heart beating ferociously from panic.
Should I tell Nikolai? He has security and people who could track this down.
But what if this was a test.
What if he sent these messages to see how I'd react?
No. That didn't make sense. He already owned me. He didn't need to play games.
My phone buzzed again.
Tell Volkov and your brother dies. Keep your mouth shut and maybe I'll let you both live.
I sank into the edge of the bed, shaking. This definitely was not Nikolai.
This was someone else who knew about Paris and Luka. Someone who needed me to be afraid and it was working.
Dinner that night was excruciating.
Nikolai ate in silence while I pushed food around my plate, unable to focus on anything except that photo.
“You’re quiet,” Nikolai said finally..
“I'm tired,”
“You're always tired,” He set down his fork, studying me, “What happened?”
“Nothing,”
“Don’t lie to me, Marlena,”
My eyes met his cold gray ones. For a moment, I almost told him but then I remembered the message – Tell Volkov and your brother dies.
“I'm fine. I'm just adjusting,” I said finally.
He didn't believe me – I could see it in the way his jaw tightened and his eyes narrowed but he didn't push.
"Tomorrow night," he said instead. "We have an event. A charity gala at The Plaza. You'll need to be ready by six."
"Another performance," I muttered.
“Right,” He said, doing up the buttons of his jacket, “And this time, the whole world will be watching. So whatever is bothering you, bury it. I don't need you falling apart in public,”
When he left, I sat alone at the massive table, staring at my phone. The photo was still there. Someone was playing a game with me and I had no idea who it was or what they wanted.
But one thing was clear. I was in between two dangers now.
Nikolai Volkov on one side and a ghost from Paris on the other.
And I had nowhere to hide.
The Plaza hotel looked like something out of a fairytale.
Golden lights spilled from every window, and a red carpet stretched from the entrance to the street where cameras flashed like lightning.
I sat at the back of Nikolai's Mercedes, watching the scene through tinted windows and fighting the urge to throw up.
“Breathe,” Nikolai said.
"I can't do this." My voice came out small. "I don't belong here.”
“Sure, you don't,” He straightened his cufflinks without looking at me, “But tonight, you'll pretend you do. Smile, laugh at their jokes and let them think you're one of them,”
“And what if I can't?”
“Then you'll learn very quickly how cruel people can be,” He finally turned to me, “This is your world now, Marlena. Adjust or drown,”
The car door opened. Anton stood waiting.
Nikolai stepped out first, buttoning his tuxedo jacket with practiced ease. Then he reached back for me.
I took his hand because I had no choice.
The moment my heels touched the red carpet, the cameras exploded. Flashing lights blinded me and despite myself, my grip on Nikolai's arm tightened.
Voices shouted from every direction.
"Marlena! Over here!"
"Mr. Volkov! How did you meet?"
"Marlena! Where's the ring?”
I lifted my hand instinctively, the diamond ring catching the light while Nikolai's arm slid around my waist pulling me closer. The cameras went berserk now. To everyone, it probably looked like romance.
But to me, it felt like a leash.
“Smile,” He murmured against my ear, “And wave,”
I did. My cheeks hurt from the fake smile but I held it up.
Nikolai's hand stayed on my waist as we moved through the chaos towards the entrance.
Inside the Plaza ballroom was breathtaking. Crystal chandeliers hung from gilded ceilings. White marble floors gleamed under soft lighting. Women in gowns that cost more than my entire life floated past like ghosts, dripping in diamonds and disdain.
I'd never felt more out of place.
“Mr. Volkov,” A man in his sixties approached. He was silver haired and sharp eyed, “What a surprise to see you here,”
“Richard,” Nikolai said, “I wouldn't miss your wife's charity event,”
Richard Kensington. I recognised him from the frequent Google searches. He was from old money. His family had been wealthy since before the civil war.
His eyes slid to me, assessing, “And this must be the famous Marlena Rousseau,”
"Marlena, this is Richard Kensington," Nikolai said. "His wife Catherine chairs tonight's gala."
I extended my hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you.”
Richard shook my hand firmly with a polite but cold smile, “A curator, I hear. How... charming.”
The way he said ‘charming’ made it sound like an insult.
"Marlena has excellent taste," Nikolai said smoothly. "She's been consulting on my private collection.”
A lie but I nodded along.
“How fortunate for both of you,” A woman appeared next to Richard. She was beautiful, tall and elegant with ice-blond hair and a smile that didn't reach her eyes, “I'm Catherine Kensington,”
“A pleasure,” I said.
Catherine's gaze traveled over me slowly, taking in every detail of my dress, my hair, my jewelry. I felt like a specimen under glass.
"You must tell me where Nikolai found you," she said lightly. "We've been trying to introduce him to suitable women for years."
Suitable. The word hung in the air like a judgment.
I paced my hand in Nikolai's arm, “We met at a gallery opening. In SoHo.”
“SoHo,” Catherine said, glancing at her manicured finger casually, “How…mordern,”
Before I could respond, a third person joined our circle.
A woman who moved like she owned the room.
She was stunning. Blonde hair in perfect waves, a dress that hugged every curve, skin that glowed like she'd never seen a pore in her life.
Vivienne Kensington.
I recognized her from the photos. She was Nikolai's "longtime companion.”
Her brown eyes locked on mine and I didn't need to look hard to see the hatred in them.
"Nikolai." Her voice was honey and venom. "Congratulations on your engagement. What a... surprise.”
"Vivienne." Nikolai's tone didn't change. "You look well."
"I always do." She turned to me, her smile razor-sharp. "And you must be Marlena. I've heard so much about you."
I doubted that.
"It's nice to meet you," I said.
"Is it?" Vivienne tilted her head. "Nikolai has such specific taste. I'm surprised he chose someone so... different.”
Different – another word that felt like a slap.
"Different can be good," I said carefully.
"Can it?" Vivienne stepped closer, her perfume expensive and overwhelming. "Tell me, where did Nikolai find you exactly? Because I've known him for years, and I've never heard your name mentioned once.”
Nikolai's hand tightened on my waist. A warning or a threat, I couldn't tell.
"We prefer to keep our private life private," he said coldly.
“How unusual for you,” Vivienne said but her eyes remained on me, “Nikolai's always been so... open with me about everything.”
The implication was clear. They had intimate history and she wanted me to know it.
"Things change," I said, finding my voice. "People move on."
Vivienne's smile faltered just slightly. "Do they?"
"They do." I met her gaze steadily. "Otherwise, you'd be wearing this ring instead of me.”
The words came out before I could stop them. Exactly the kind of thing that would make this worse, but God, it felt good.
Vivienne's face went tight. Catherine's eyebrows rose. Richard coughed into his champagne.
And Nikolai's hand on my waist tightened even more, his fingers digging into my hip through the silk of my dress.
Possessive, like I'd just done something right.
"Well." Vivienne recovered quickly, "Aren't you... spirited."
"I try," I said sweetly.
"Spirited is one word for it." She looked at Nikolai. "Where did you really find her? Because she certainly doesn't sound like any curator I've ever met."
"That's because I'm not like anyone you've met," I said before Nikolai could answer. "Which is probably why Nikolai chose me instead of someone predictable."
Silence.
Vivienne stared at me like I'd slapped her.
Catherine looked intrigued despite herself.
Richard seemed caught between amusement and horror.
And Nikolai –his hand slid from my waist to the small of my back, pulling me closer against his side.
"If you'll excuse us," he said smoothly. "I'd like to introduce Marlena to the rest of the room."
He guided me away before anyone could respond.
We were halfway across the ballroom before he spoke.
"That was reckless," he said quietly.
"She was rude."
"She's always rude. You don't engage."
"Why not?" I looked up at him. "You wanted me to play the role. I'm playing it."
"I wanted you to smile and be polite. Not start a war with Vivienne Kensington."
"Then you should have married someone
polite." I pulled away slightly. "You got me. This is what you get."
For a moment, surprise flickered in his eyes. Or was it approval?
Then it was gone, replaced by that cold mask but his hand stayed on my back.