Page 28 of Arranged to Marry the Bratva

While the vibes with Sofia are colder than the winds of Antarctica, I find myself genuinely enjoying Natalia’s company. She's warm, funny, and surprisingly easy to get along with. She reminds me of Pippa, in a way.

"Anoushka, you have to see this!" Natalia calls out from the other side of the store, waving a pair of stiletto heels that seem impossibly high. "These would look killer on you!"

"Only if I don't break my neck trying to walk in them," I tease, grinning as I join her.

"Trust me, you'll get used to it," she assures me, nudging me playfully. "Besides, it's all worth it for the power walk."

I chuckle at her enthusiasm but decide to give the shoes a try. Natalia insists she’s going to buy them for me.

***

After a successful round of trying on shoes, the three of us decide to take a break and grab a bite to eat at a nearby café. The place is cozy and inviting, with soft jazz music playing in the background. We find a table by the window and sit down, our shopping bags piled high around us.

"Isn't this just the perfect spot?" Natalia gushes as she picks up a menu. "They make the best pastries here."

"Sounds delicious," I agree, feeling my stomach rumble in anticipation.

As we wait for our orders, we chat more about our lives, discovering that we both share a love for art and literature. It's refreshing to find someone who shares my interests.

"Have you ever tried painting?" Natalia asks me, her eyes sparkling with excitement. "I find it so relaxing and therapeutic."

"Actually, I have," I reply, surprised that she mentioned one of my favorite hobbies. "Back at home, I used to paint landscapes and still-lifes. I haven't had much time to pick up a brush since I moved here."

"Maybe we can paint together sometime," she suggests, and I can't help but smile at the thought. "I'd love that," I say sincerely.

"Great! It's a date!" she exclaims, clapping her hands together.

Throughout our conversation, I notice Sofia sitting on the other side of the table, quietly sipping her coffee and observing our interactions. She doesn't seem as enthusiastic as Natalia, and I can't help but wonder why she's holding back.

"Did you find anything you liked today, Sofia?" I ask, trying to include her in the conversation.

"Uh, yes. A few things," she replies, offering a tight-lipped smile. "I didn't need much."

"Isn't it so nice to have a girls' day out?" Natalia gushes, turning to Sofia. "We should do this more often."

"Sure," Sofia agrees, her tone polite but distant. "It's been… interesting." I can't help but notice the way she carefully chooses her words.

As we continue talking, I sense that Sofia truly doesn’t like me. On the other hand, I wonder if she's just naturally reserved. There’s no way she can dislike me this much for just being a Zolotov, can she?

I mean, I couldn’t choose which family I was born into.

But finding myself at risk of entering the zone of ruminating, I push those thoughts aside and focus on enjoying the moment, grateful to have found at least one genuine friend in Natalia. And maybe, with time, Sofia and I will grow closer, too.

***

The sun is beginning to set as we pull up to the mansion, casting a warm orange glow on the ornate exterior. I glance over at Sofia and Natalia to bid them goodbye. In the backseat, shopping bags filled with our purchases are piled high.

I step out of the car while the chauffeur exits to hand my bags to one of Nikolai’s guards waiting nearby. "Thank you both so much for today," I say sincerely, looking from one sister-in-law to the other. "I really enjoyed spending time with you."

"Of course!" Natalia exclaims, her eyes sparkling. "We should definitely do this more often. Maybe next time, we can try that new spa everyone's been raving about. What do you say?"

"Sounds lovely," I reply, my excitement genuine.

"Thanks again," I say, turning my attention to Sofia. She gives me a polite smile, her eyes briefly meeting mine.

"Anytime, Anoushka," she says, her voice warm yet distant. "Take care."

Climbing out of the car, I wave goodbye as they drive off, and then I turn to face the house. Stepping inside, I head toward the living room to wave them goodbye through the window, just one last time, when something catches my attention through the glass—a flicker of movement near the side entrance.

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