xoxo-_vale
Two families. One arrangement. No choice.
Valentina Conti didn't choose him. Nikolai didn't choose her. But when the Conti and Volkov patriarchs shook hands over dinner in Milan, choice stopped being relevant. Now she's in a Moscow apartment with a ring on her finger, a man she barely knows across the hall, and a stubborn, inconvenient suspicion that he might not be what she expected.