Page 16 of Convenient Vows

6

Chapter 4

Xiomara

My phone buzzes on the nightstand, vibrating once, twice — the screen lighting up with an unknown number.

I stare at it, heart pounding. Who would dare call me directly? My number is buried under layers of security. Only family and close friends can reach me.

Fingers trembling, I swipe to answer.

“Hello?”

“Mara.”

The voice is low, smooth, unmistakably male — and unmistakably him.

“Zasha?” I whisper, breath catching.

“Yes,” he says, voice clipped but polite. “I wanted to speak with you privately.”

My stomach flips over.

“How did you get my number?”

A pause.

“Through your father,” he says calmly. “Can you meet me for dinner?”

My throat goes dry. Dinner? With him?

“Tonight,” he adds, as if the world simply rearranges itself on his schedule.

I pull in a shaky breath, trying to sound composed.

“I… yes. Of course.”

“Good,” Zasha says. “I’ll pick you up in two hours.”

The line goes dead before I can say another word.

I look at my time and lower the phone, my heart hammering wildly in my chest.

Dinner. With Zasha Petrov.

Not a strategy meeting, not a family negotiation — but him and me. Alone.

I sprint to my closet.

Two hours and a pile of discarded clothes later, I’m standing at the front entrance, nerves crackling beneath my skin.

I chose a simple peach silk dress — understated, elegant, falling just below the knee — with delicate straps and a soft neckline. Nothing flashy, but when I caught my reflection in the mirror, I barely recognized myself. Soft waves spill down my shoulders, lips tinted a natural rose.

Within seconds, his headlights sweep across the driveway, and my chest tightens. I take one last deep breath as the sleek black car rolls to a stop.

Zasha steps out.

He’s in a tailored dark suit, crisp white shirt open at the collar, no tie — his presence commanding even without the armor of his reputation. His eyes flick briefly over me as I approach, a flash of something unreadable crossing his face.

---