Page 1 of Twisted Pact
1
Mila
Walking into Dmitri Kozlov’s wedding reception feels like volunteering for my own execution.
Every head turns as I step inside.
Six months isn’t long enough for anyone to forget my sister Irina showing up pregnant to her marriage negotiation—and killing the Kozlov deal.
I smooth my emerald silk dress and force myself to move. Papa saves this designer for high-stakes meetings. Tonight, I need the armor. To look like I belong, not like the youngest daughter who’s been branded damaged goods.
The ballroom overflows with Moscow’s criminal elite—designer suits and diamonds that could bankroll a nation. Women glitter like ornaments while their men seal deals over top-shelf vodka. This is the same world I ran from when I chose grad school over marriage.
Looking at it now, I know I was right. Once I finish my Ph.D., I’m gone for good.
But tonight, Papa insisted I come—said the Kozlovs needed to see that the Andreevas still know how to show respect.
My father appears at my side and kisses my cheek. “Stay close to me tonight, Mila.”
“I’m twenty-three, Papa. I can handle a wedding reception.”
“Can you?” His voice drops. “Because last time you were in a room with the Kozlovs, you walked away from an opportunity that could have saved this family.”
I bite back about a dozen responses. “Irina’s mistake wasn’t mine to fix.”
“Everything became your mistake the moment you refused to step in.” He walks away before I can respond, leaving me standing alone near the champagne fountain like a cautionary tale.
I grab a glass and down half in one gulp. The alcohol helps, but not enough. Maybe a few glasses will do the trick.
A waiter glides past with caviar. I take one to keep my hands busy. I’ve been to a hundred of these parties, but tonight is different. Tonight, I’m the girl who told Alexei Kozlov no.
“Look who showed her face.” My cousin Oksana materializes, her red lips curved in a smile that doesn’t fool me. “Surprised you had the nerve after everything that happened.”
“It’s a wedding, Oksana. Not a trial.”
She sips champagne, smirking at me over the rim. “Everyone’s talking. Poor Mila Andreeva, damaged goods who threw away the chance of a lifetime to play student instead of wife.”
I tighten my grip on the stem of my glass. “Still a student. Graduate program at Moscow State. International business.”
“How nice for you.” Her tone says she means the opposite. “While you buried yourself in books, the rest of us were making real connections. Building real futures.”
“You mean selling yourself for a ring.”
“Better than dying alone with a worthless degree.” She leans in, dropping her voice to a whisper. “You turned down Alexei Kozlov. Do you have any idea how many women would kill for that chance? He’s gorgeous. Powerful. And you thought you were too good for him.”
Something dangerous sparks in my chest. I stare her down, my civility gone. “I wasn’t too good for anyone. I wanted to finish my degree before I became a bargaining chip.”
“How noble.” Oksana’s gaze slides past me, and her smirk widens. “Speak of the devil. He’s right over there if you want to apologize for wasting his time.”
I follow her gaze and my heart forgets how to beat when I see him.
Alexei Kozlov stands at the bar amid a circle of suits that are hanging on his every word. Six-two, broad-shouldered, with dark-blond hair cropped neat, and blue-gray eyes that drag the clothes off me even from across the room. A black suit tailored to perfection and worn like he doesn’t give a damn. Like he could strip it off and still own every room he walks into.
There’s a faint scar near his left ear that only makes him hotter. His hands cradle a tumbler of whiskey, and I remember themdrumming the table six months ago, while my family imploded. Heat flares in my chest.
Damn it, I hate that I notice.
“He’s watching you,” Oksana teases, jolting me back to reality.
