Analise's POV
"Are you sure I look okay?" I asked my reflection in the mirror, smoothing down the simple black dress I'd bought last year for a hospital fundraiser. Sofia had sent strict instructions with the invitation: Black attire only. The bride and groom wear white. No exceptions.
Luca babbled from his spot on my bed, already dressed in the tiny black suit I'd splurged on. My bank account was screaming, but I couldn't have my son looking out of place at what Sofia had described as "the wedding of the decade in the underworld."
The underworld. Even thinking about it sent chills down my spine.
The doorbell rang, and I scooped up Luca and my clutch. "That's our ride, buddy. Let's go see Auntie Sofia get married."
I'd expected a car, maybe a nice town car. What waited at the curb was a sleek black limousine, complete with a driver in a suit who opened the door with white-gloved hands.
"Mrs. Keating?" he asked, his accent thick and Eastern European.
"Ms.," I corrected automatically. "And this is my son."
He nodded, helping us into the vehicle. The interior was all black leather and polished wood, with a small bar tucked discreetly in one corner. Luca's eyes went wide, his little hands reaching for everything.
"No, baby," I whispered, settling him on my lap. "We don't touch."
The drive took us out of the city, winding through increasingly exclusive neighborhoods until we reached a massive iron gate guarded by men with barely concealed weapons. The driver rolled down his window, presenting an invitation card similar to the one Sofia had sent me. The guard glanced at it, then peered into the car at me and Luca before nodding.
The gates swung open, revealing a long driveway that led to what could only be described as a fortress disguised as a mansion. Stone walls, security cameras, and more armed men patrolling the grounds. I clutched Luca closer.
"What are we doing here?" I whispered to him, suddenly questioning my decision to come.
When the limo stopped, the driver opened my door. I stepped out, Luca balanced on my hip, and stared up at the Volkov mansion. It was imposing, all stone and glass, with turrets that gave it an almost medieval look. Modern-day castle for a modern-day king.
Men in suits with earpieces stood at the entrance, checking invitations. I handed mine over with slightly trembling fingers.
"Analise Keating and son," the security man read off the card. "You're in row seven, seats twelve and thirteen." He handed back the invitation along with a small silver token. "This is for the reception."
I nodded my thanks and followed the stream of elegantly dressed guests into the mansion. The entrance hall alone was bigger than my entire apartment, with a crystal chandelier that probably cost more than my nursing degree. Everywhere I looked, women dripped with diamonds and men wore watches that could pay off my mortgage.
My simple black dress, the nicest thing I owned, suddenly felt like a rag. I swallowed hard, fighting the urge to turn and run.
"Don't be intimidated," I whispered to myself. "You're here for Sofia."
The ceremony was being held in a converted ballroom that now resembled a cathedral, with rows of white chairs facing an altar adorned with ice sculptures and white roses. I found our seats and settled Luca beside me, giving him his favorite stuffed elephant to keep him quiet.
A woman to my left leaned over, her perfume expensive and overwhelming. "First time at a Volkov event?" she asked, her smile not quite reaching her eyes.
"Is it that obvious?" I tried to joke.
"I know everyone in the families," she said. "You're not one of us. How do you know the bride?"
Something in her tone put me on edge, but I kept my voice pleasant. "I'm a nurse at the hospital where Sofia works. We're best friends."
Her expression shifted subtly. "Interesting. Sofia always was... unconventional." She extended a manicured hand. "I'm Katya. Sofia's sister."
I shook her hand, surprised. "I didn't know Sofia had a sister."
"Half-sister, technically. Daddy's second marriage." She rolled her eyes. "Sofia barely calls home, so I'm not surprised she never mentioned me. It's nice to know she has actual friends."
Katya turned her attention to Luca, who was watching her with wide eyes. "What a beautiful son you have. How old is he?"
"Just over a year," I said, unable to keep the pride from my voice.
"He looks just like you," Katya observed, though her eyes lingered on Luca's striking blue eyes – the feature most people said must have come from his father.
She leaned closer, lowering her voice conspiratorially. "You know, I should be the one getting married today. I told Daddy to submit my profile to the Volkov heir too, but apparently, a mafia queen has to be at least twenty-one." She gave an exaggerated pout. "I missed it by one year."
"That's..." I searched for the right word. "Unfortunate?"
"It's criminal is what it is," Katya huffed. "Ivan Volkov is the most eligible bachelor in our world. Rich, powerful, and so hot it should be illegal." She fanned herself dramatically. "If Sofia wasn't marrying him, I'd be throwing myself at him right now. She totally stole my chance."
I shifted uncomfortably.
"I'm sure your sister will make a wonderful wife," I said diplomatically.
Katya snorted. "Sofia spent the last five years playing doctor in third-world countries. What does she know about being a mafia queen? But Daddy insisted she was the perfect choice." Her tone turned bitter. "Always Sofia. The golden child."
Before I could respond, the chamber orchestra in the corner began to play. A hush fell over the gathering as all eyes turned toward the altar where a priest now stood, solemn-faced and imposing in traditional Orthodox vestments.
Then, from a side door, a man appeared.
"Oh, there's the groom," Katya whispered, her breath catching. "God, he's so hot. If my sister wasn't marrying him..."
I turned just in time to see the groom in an elegant white suit. His back was turned as he was talking to the priest. Broad shoulders filled out the expensive fabric perfectly, his dark hair neatly styled.
"He's so hot, from the back and the front," Katya mumbled, throwing dirty looks at the mysterious man. "Just wait till you see him.''
I was curious to see what the prince of the Russian mafia would look like. Just as he was about to turn, Luca made a distressed sound beside me. I looked down to see my son's face contort before he vomited all over his tiny black suit.
"Oh no, baby," I whispered, immediately forgetting about the groom as I grabbed tissues from my clutch. Luca's face was flushed, his eyes watery. "Are you feeling sick?"
He whimpered in response, reaching for me. I scooped him up, ignoring the dampness against my chest.
"Excuse me," I whispered to Katya, who wrinkled her nose and shifted away from us. "I need to clean him up."
I hurried down the aisle, feeling eyes on me as I carried my sick child out of the hall. In the corridor, I found a plush velvet bench and sat Luca down, checking his forehead.
"You're burning up," I murmured. Was this related to his condition? Had the excitement been too much?
"Let's get you cleaned up, sweetheart," I said, smoothing his hair. "Stay right here, okay? Mommy will be right back."
I spotted a staff member and quickly asked for directions to where I could find warm water and towels. They pointed me toward the kitchen area, and I hurried there, promising Luca I'd be back in seconds.
The kitchen was a flurry of activity, caterers preparing for what would undoubtedly be an extravagant reception. I managed to get a bowl of warm water and a clean cloth before heading back to my son.
As I rounded a corner, a large hand caught my arm, nearly causing me to spill the water.
"Well, well, what do we have here?" A man in a black suit with a security earpiece looked me up and down, holding me tightly. "You lost, pretty thing?"
"I'm a guest," I said firmly, trying to pull away. "My son is sick. I need to get back to him."
"Sure you are," he smirked, not releasing my arm. "Never seen you at one of these events before. Maybe you're just trying to sneak in for a taste of the good life?"
"Let go of me," I hissed, aware that I needed to return to Luca. "I have an invitation."
He backed me against the wall. "Come on, don't be such a tease. Pretty thing like you doesn't end up at these parties without knowing the score."
I was about to knee him where it would hurt most when a blur of motion caught my eye. Suddenly, the security guard was ripped away from me, and a solid punch connected with his jaw, sending him sprawling to the floor.
"Touch her again and I'll break every bone in your body," my rescuer growled.
The guard scrambled to his feet, hand to his bleeding lip. "Sir, I didn't know she was with—"
"Get out of my sight," my defender said quietly, and the man practically ran down the corridor.
Only then did my rescuer turn to face me, and my heart stopped. For a moment, I couldn't breathe, couldn't think, couldn't move.
"Are you alright?" he asked, those blue eyes—the same blue eyes as our son's—looking at me with concern.
The bowl slipped from my suddenly numb fingers, water splashing across the marble floor.
"Careful," he said, reaching out to steady me.
He stretched out his hand to me, making my heart drop.