Emily's POV

"Anything you want, kotenok."

That was what Alex said when he asked me what I wanted to do today. And the first thing that came to mind was building a snowman.

I hesitated before saying it. It had been years since I last made one—since my parents died. Back then, winter had been magical, filled with laughter and warmth. Now, it was just cold. Empty.

But with Alex… things were always different.

So here we are, in the middle of his estate, surrounded by untouched snow. He’s building the base, his strong hands shaping the snow effortlessly, while I work on the head. It feels… simple. Normal. Something we aren’t.

I step back and admire our creation. It’s imperfect, slightly crooked, but somehow perfect.

I don’t realize I’m laughing until the sound spills from my lips—a sound I haven’t heard in a long time.

Without thinking, I run into Alex’s arms. He catches me easily, spinning me around as if I weigh nothing.

"You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me."

His voice is raw.

His icy blue eyes lock onto mine, freezing time itself.

I can’t breathe.

My gaze flickers to his lips. He’s never kissed me before. Not properly. Not on my lips.

As if reading my mind, he leans down. His lips brush against mine—tentative at first, then claiming. Possessing.

A gasp escapes me as he bites my lower lip, and he takes advantage, slipping his tongue inside, stroking, devouring. I feel myself melting into him, my arms winding around his neck.

He lifts me, pressing me against a tree, his body caging me in. His hands grip my thighs, forcing my legs around his waist. The rough bark digs into my back, but I don’t care.

By the time he finally pulls away, I’m breathless. Dazed. His forehead rests against mine, his breaths mingling with mine.

I should be scared. I should want to pull away. But all I want is more.

After a while, he takes me to the city.

The snow falls in thick, silent sheets, illuminated by the golden glow of streetlights. The world looks like something out of a dream.

I can’t stop myself from twirling, letting the snowflakes kiss my skin. Alex watches me, his expression unreadable.

We step into a small restaurant. It’s warm, cozy—nothing extravagant, yet it feels perfect. As we make our way to a table, an old woman reaches for my hand.

"Czar devoul," she whispers, her voice laced with something I can’t decipher.

I freeze. My gaze flickers to Alex, but his face gives nothing away.

"Come," he says, pulling me away. His grip is firm. Possessive.

We take our seats. The menu is filled with Russian dishes I don’t recognize. I glance at Alex.

"You order for us," I say, sliding the menu toward him.

He doesn’t even look at it before ordering in perfect Russian.

When the food arrives, the rich, savory aroma makes my stomach growl.

"These are some of my favorites, kotenok. I hope you enjoy them," Alex murmurs.

I take a bite, and my eyes widen. It’s incredible. Every bite is a burst of flavors I’ve never tasted before.

After dinner, Alex insists on shopping. I try to protest—I don’t want to spend his money—but he shuts me down with a single look.

So I buy a few clothes, but I make sure he gets some things for himself too. I also buy toys for my dogs—my boys—and, of course, for Storm.

When I ask about Storm, Alex only says, "He’s being taken care of."

It doesn’t reassure me.

By the time we get home, I’m exhausted. The second I step inside, my boys greet me. Ham still keeps his distance, but I think he’s warming up to me.

I shower, change into something comfortable, and curl into Alex’s arms.

This life… it feels too good to be true.

Or maybe… it’s just the silence before the storm.

The Next Morning

I wake up alone.

Alex is gone. But that’s nothing new. He sleeps half as much as a normal person—if he even sleeps at all.

I go downstairs and find him returning from a run with the dogs. His shirt clings to his sweat-drenched body, every muscle taut and defined.

I swallow hard.

He vanishes into the bathroom, and I take the opportunity to explore the house a little.

It’s massive. A palace. Everything about it screams power and history. The architecture is breathtaking, something out of an old Russian fairytale.

The guards by the door don’t even blink as I pass them.

By the time I return, Alex is sitting at the dining table. He pulls me onto his lap, and we eat a traditional Russian breakfast together.

"We’re going to a ball this evening, kotenok," he says, brushing his lips against my temple. "I’ll send people to help you get ready."

A ball.

I’ve never been to one before.

But there’s a first time for everything.

Evening

At exactly four, the staff arrives. They don’t let me see the dress as they do my hair and makeup.

When I finally slip into the gown, I catch my reflection in the mirror.

It’s stunning. Dark. Elegant.

I barely recognize myself.

When I step downstairs, Alex is already waiting.

He looks lethal. The black tux fits him like it was made for him. His icy blue eyes darken the second he sees me.

"I knew you’d look exquisite in it, kotenok," he murmurs, wrapping an arm around my waist. His grip is possessive, almost bruising. "Now I don’t want to go—I’ll have to kill every bastard who dares look at you."

I laugh, but there’s something about the way he says it that makes me wonder if he’s joking.

He helps me into the car, and soon, we arrive at the venue.

A palace.

A freaking palace.

People are dressed in extravagant gowns, dripping in wealth and power. But none of them compare to Alex. The moment he steps inside, the entire room shifts. People bow. Whisper.

Xavier appears, a smirk stretching across his face when he sees me.

"Oh my God, you look stunning, sister-in-law," he teases, kissing my cheek.

I blush. "You look good too, Xavier."

He smirks. "Really? I’m flattered. You hear that, big brother?"

Alex growls, and Xavier chuckles, stepping back.

More people approach, greeting Alex in Russian. I catch bits and pieces of the conversation but struggle to keep up.

And then I see her.

Charlotte.

Of course, she’s here.

Dressed in red, lips curled in a smirk, eyes locking onto mine like a predator sizing up its prey.

Something in my stomach twists.

And just like that, the illusion of peace shatters.



T

heir snow man:



Her dress:

Author’s Note:

Darkness is creeping in, and Emily is starting to see that fairytales don’t exist in Alex’s world—only power, possession, and obsession. But how long can she keep pretending that she’s safe in his arms before the storm truly hits?

Thank you all for the love and support! Your comments, votes, and messages mean the world to me. Let me know your thoughts—do you think Emily is falling too deep, or is she already drowning?

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