All that she wants || 18+

𝐎𝐧𝐞

ꜰʀᴀɴᴄᴇꜱᴄᴀ

"How can you agree to this?" My voice remained steady as I shot my father an accusing look.

The room fell into an uneasy silence. My father was seated on the couch with a blonde woman—my stepmother, Isabella— clung to his arm.

The smug look on her face told me she relished at my discomfort. That vixen!

Gianna, my stepsister, sat on a seat in a far corner, her attention glued to her phone as she pushed her golden locks out of her face. We had learned to co-exist with each other by staying out of each other's business.

I turned my head towards Isabella. "You must be so thrilled. You finally got what you wanted, didn't you? To push me aside and live with your perfect little family. I hope it was fucking worth it."

I always knew why my stepmother felt so threatened by me. Because she and her daughter could never be one of us. People have admired me since I was a little child. At every event, I always had the attention of everyone quite effortlessly.

It must've eaten her out, knowing that no matter how hard she tried, I would always be a true Romano and she would be, well, nothing but a well-paid whore.

"Don't be dramatic, dear." My father tried to reason with me. "This is what's best for everyone."

"For everyone?" I asked, my tone laced with resentment. "Or just this woman? You've let her poison you against your own blood. How can you allow Nikolaev to take me to Russia after our marriage?"

The terms set by Nikolaev were atrocious, to say the least.

To be married to him meant I had to surrender half my year to living in Russia with him while he took care of local operations there.

He completely refused to let me pursue an MBA. Apparently, I wouldn't need a master degree if all I had to do was accompany him to events and behave like his fucking lap dog.

And I couldn't start my own business. The only latitude granted was that I could oversee his charity foundations. I would do nothing but live in his shadow for the rest of my life.

Apparently, women can only look pretty and run charities.

"Chessie..." My father sighed as he took a sip of his whiskey. "You once told me that you'd do anything to protect my legacy."

"It's mine as much as it's yours." I reminded him. "But yes, I did."

"Then this is what I'm asking of you." He leaned over to hand me a folder.

I skimmed through its contents as he continued. "My sources have told me that Nikolaev's father is actually becoming more influential in Russia. He's become quite close to the regime there."

"You mean he'd probably get preferential treatment there?" I asked, raising my brow. "To expand his business and all."

"Yes, you'd practically live like royalty with him. And trust me, we'd be much better off with him on our side."

"Dad. We don't need to be scared of some Russian oligarch. I have powerful men falling all over my feet, wanting to get a taste of this Romano wealth. And ass." I turned to wink at Gianna, who was watching us from afar. "My point being, I can have anyone I want."

"About that..." He hesitated as he exchanged a look with Isabella.

That can't be good.

"We need you to be our eyes and ears in Russia."

"You're kidding, right?" I asked, desperately searching his face for any hint of humour. But there wasn't. He was dead serious.

Isabella must have cast some sort of spell on my father. Why else would he have agreed to this?