ALEK ROMANOVA
Throughout my life, I was schooled in the finest military and business institutions across Russia. By the time I reached thirty, I had multiplied my family's wealth fivefold; we were disgustingly wealthy before, and now we’re even more so. Being an only child, I have several cousins who wish to helm the family empire, but as the eldest, I wield considerable global influence. No one dares meddle in my affairs. Nevertheless, my cousins have concocted numerous lies about me in their eagerness to usurp my business, branding me a murderer. I know one of them sent a battered woman my way, claiming it was my doing. True, I knew her, but I would never strike her—or any woman for that matter. My father would have my head, for he taught me to respect and love them. Despite my stern and dominant persona, physical abuse is something I'd never stoop to. This is also why I remain a bachelor: women crave too much affection and time, yet my focus is always on my enterprises. I provide for them, yet it's never enough, so I limit encounters to satiate the desires of the moment, then cordially part with a generous sum to avoid further troubles.
Now, my grandfather is intent on having me married, to the point I believe he would accept even a beggar as his granddaughter-in-law. Marriage, however, is not in my plans, though it seems imperative if I’m to keep my cousins from inheriting the empire. I've thought about starting my own company and leaving them to squabble over the current one, but I can't allow my years of hard work and growth to be squandered. As I pondered a contractual marriage, an enigmatic email arrived at my doorstep one morning.
📨 Mr. Romanova, I possess evidence of your innocence regarding the incident seven years ago with your girlfriend—the thought screamed blackmail.
📨 How much for the evidence?—I typed hastily.
📨 Money isn't what I need. I require marriage to you?—I nearly choked. Who does this stranger think she is, proposing marriage?
📨 You're mad. Why would I marry someone I've never met?—Her audacity was astounding.
📨 Your grandfather will disinherit you if you’re unwed in a year. I can clear your name and enter into marriage with you; all I require is your support and protection to bring me to New York,—she retorted, leaving me speechless with her knowledge of my private matters.
📨 Your sources are of no concern to me, I prefer direct negotiations. I wish to meet you,—my curiosity piqued by her boldness.
📨 Meet me in nine months at Miss Katya Smirnov's birthday gathering, I’ll be there to find you,—a mysterious answer, as I had no wish to wait, yet suddenly I wasn't the one calling the shots.
📨 I shall see you there,—I replied.
What connection could this woman possibly have with Katya Smirnov? Surely, it wasn't Katya herself; I knew her as the prized granddaughter of her protectors. Since her parents’ demise, they’d sent her to a boarding school, only seeing her on weekends due to their elderliness and their busy schedules, with no other family to rely on. So, is it a friend of hers? I must inquire into the identity behind these messages.
After investigating all known associates of Katya Smirnov and coming up empty, my search extended to her grandparents. Apparently, Katya had a sole confidant at the boarding school—just a name, and she wouldn’t be free from that place until she turned eighteen. Hence her request for a postponed encounter; nine months passed in a blink, and with three to go before meeting Leila, as I was now certain she was the one writing, her email caught my attention.
📨 Dear Mr. Romanova, you might harbor uncertainties about marrying a stranger, so to prove my worth as a dedicated spouse concerned with your interests, here’s evidence of embezzlement in your ranks,— her brazenness sparked more amusement than offense as I examined her findings; she was right, I was being robbed without my knowledge.
📨 A mystery you may be, yet I'll extend a chance for you to persuade me into matrimony at the upcoming festivity, a chance I’ve granted to no one before—prepare to seize it,—I responded, taken aback by a child’s need for discipline.
📨 Worry not. I am adept at seizing opportunities. See you in three months,—she signed off, and I stared at my computer until my assistant Igor entered.
- Sir. This contains all we could uncover on a Miss Leila from Katya's school\, the only one there by that name\,—Igor handed me an envelope.
- Check your email\, fire the thief\, and find a trustworthy replacement\,—I instructed.
- Right away\, sir\,—Igor exited\, and I examined the envelope.
Barely any information was found, just a name: Leila Scott—using only her mother's surname, no father listed. The records stated she’d been sent straight to the boarding school upon entry into the country, and had remained there ever since. Today being her birthday meant she’d left the confines of the institution, and yet, she wouldn’t meet me until her friend's party—odd.
Driving to the Smirnov mansion, I had no intention of announcing my presence; I just wanted to know if she was there. As I was about to depart, the Smirnov couple emerged, with a breathtakingly beautiful young girl in tow. She wasn't Katya, so she must be Leila. Assuming such, she was a striking sight with her long blonde hair, impeccable figure, and angelic visage paired with captivating blue or similar-hued eyes—hard to discern from my vantage point, but undeniably exquisite. Perhaps, after all, I could sacrifice and marry this child. I would wait for the party as she requested, and speak with her then. What is it that you have to offer, Leila Scott?
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