Chapter 2 Velvet chains

The morning light spilled through the high windows like golden judgment.

Reina sat on the edge of the bed, barefoot, dressed in the silk nightgown that had been placed in her closet. Everything in the room looked like it belonged in a magazine-muted cream walls, carved oak shelves, a dressing table too elegant to touch. And yet, the silence was louder than any orphanage riot, more suffocating than the rot of poverty.

She had not slept. Not even for a second.

Her thoughts had circled endlessly: the weight of the contract she had entered, the gleam in Nikolai's eyes when he had said she belonged to him, and worst of all-her own numbness.

A knock broke through the quiet.

She didn't answer.

The door opened anyway.

A tall woman in her forties stepped inside. Her heels clicked across the polished floors with military precision. Sharp cheekbones. No smile.

"I'm Elise," she said, dropping a stack of folded clothes on the velvet bench. "I run the estate. That includes you, for now."

"I didn't ask for a babysitter," Reina said.

"No," Elise replied evenly. "But you've got one."

She handed Reina a tablet. "Your schedule. You'll dress. Eat. Keep your mouth shut unless spoken to. Mr. Valeska expects you in the solarium at nine. Be on time."

Then she left, without waiting for a reply.

Reina stared down at the clothes. A fitted white blouse. A pencil skirt. Low heels. Not exactly a prison uniform-but it might as well have been.

The solarium was at the far end of the house. She had to walk through three corridors, a stairwell, and what looked like a small private library just to get there. Every hallway gleamed. Every room was spotless. But not a single photograph hung on the walls. No family. No warmth.

She found Nikolai standing near the glass doors, speaking in Russian on his phone. Sunlight caught in the silver strands near his temples. His voice was low, lethal. Even in daylight, he looked like he belonged to the shadows.

He ended the call when he saw her and gestured toward a chair.

She sat stiffly.

"You're punctual," he said. "Good."

"I'm not a child."

"No. But you're not free either."

Reina crossed her arms. "Then let's cut the performance. What do you actually want from me? Just say it."

He walked toward a cabinet, poured himself a drink-something dark and expensive-and turned back.

"I told you the truth. I need a partner. A figurehead."

"Why me?"

"You're nobody. You have no family. No record. No debts. No one to trace you. No one to ask questions."

"Lovely," she said flatly. "So I'm convenient."

"Exactly."

"But I'm not stupid," she added. "You didn't pay half a million dollars to just put on a ring and smile at parties."

He smirked. The kind of smirk that didn't reach his eyes.

"You're sharper than I thought," he said. "I like that."

Reina felt a strange pulse run down her spine. She didn't want his approval. But she wanted something-answers, power, leverage. Anything to feel less small in a world where everything was designed to remind her she was owned.

"Then tell me the truth," she said. "What's the real reason?"

Nikolai walked to her, slow and controlled. His presence was too much-too close.

"There's a war coming, Reina," he said, voice low. "Not the kind with tanks and bloodshed. A war of empires. Business. Legacy. Enemies in the dark. My name is worth billions-but power? That's more fragile than you think."

"And you think I'm... what? Armor?"

"No," he said, eyes locking onto hers. "You're bait."

Her blood went cold.

"Some men crave violence," he continued. "Some crave women. And some-" he stepped even closer, close enough she could see the flecks of steel in his irises-"crave innocence. A poor girl sold to a monster? That's a story the world loves."

"I'm not innocent," she whispered.

"You look like it. That's what matters."

Reina spent the rest of the morning learning the house.

She was allowed to walk the west wing-the gardens, the library, the indoor pool that felt like it belonged in a palace. But beyond that? Doors were locked. Elise watched her like a hawk, appearing silently at corners and staircases.

At lunch, a tray was brought to her room. Roasted lamb. Imported olives. Sparkling water in a crystal glass. She didn't touch it.

She felt more like a pet being fattened than a woman being courted.

It was past sunset when Elise reappeared.

"Change into this," she said, dropping a red velvet dress onto the bed. "He wants you in the dining hall. Formal."

Reina stared at the gown. It looked hand-stitched, like it belonged on a runway. She touched the fabric-it was soft, too soft, like something out of someone else's life.

"And if I don't show up?" she asked.

Elise's gaze didn't waver. "Then you'll learn what kind of man you belong to."

The dining hall was more like a throne room.

A long mahogany table stretched under a chandelier so large it looked like a storm frozen in crystal. Candles flickered. Wine shimmered. But it was empty-except for him.

Nikolai sat at the head of the table, dressed in another black suit, a cufflink shaped like a silver dagger glinting on his wrist.

Reina walked in silently. She didn't speak. Neither did he.

A servant pulled out a chair for her. She sat.

Food was served in courses. Caviar. Duck. Something French she couldn't name. Reina barely touched anything.

"You're angry," Nikolai said between sips of wine.

She didn't answer.

"Good. Anger means you still have fight in you."

"I'm not your pawn," she said finally. "You may have bought my body, but not my soul."

He studied her. For a moment, something unreadable crossed his face.

"You think I don't know the weight of a soul, Reina?" he asked quietly. "I've sold mine more than once."

She swallowed hard.

"Then why do it to someone else?"

"Because this world eats soft things alive."

He stood, walked around the table, and stopped behind her. She didn't flinch this time.

"I'll make you strong," he said.

"I don't want your strength," she said.

"No," he murmured. "But you will."

That night, Reina stood in front of her mirror long after midnight. The dress was back on its hanger. Her makeup was gone. But her eyes-her eyes were sharper now.

She didn't know who Nikolai Valeska really was.

She didn't know what he was planning.

But she knew one thing: she would not break.

If she was bait, she'd be the kind that snapped the trap shut.

Let him think she was soft. Let him think she was quiet.

Reina had survived abandonment, hunger, betrayal, and being sold like property.

She would survive this too.

But she wouldn't just survive.

She would outplay him.

And one day-when the game turned-she'd make sure he regretted ever thinking she was his.