Page 10 of Koroleva

The Anantara Villa Padierna Palace Resort was locate between Marbella, Benahavís and Estepona.

Set apart from the crowds, it was a perfect and elegant sanctuary featuring three golf courses—my future father-in-law was an enthusiast—a tranquil lake, a Roman amphitheater, and over twelve hundred original artworks. We were staying in one of the two-bedroom villas with my mother and sisters.

When I crossed the threshold and stepped onto the living room floor, covered with black and white tiles mimicking a chessboard, my mother was horrified.

"Nikita Koroleva! How dare you arrive just an hour and a half before your wedding?!"

"Good morning to you too, mother," I said with a sarcastic undertone. She hated when I called her that; she said it made her feel old.

The truth was, she looked fabulous. She was forty-nine years old, though she didn't look a day over forty. The fortune she spent on cosmetic treatments and her meticulous self-care had seemingly frozen her in time. She looked more like my older sister than my mother.

"For heaven's sake! You stink and your skin looks worse than my heels after that trip to the Sahara!"

"I love you too," I murmured, heading straight for the bar to pour myself one last drink.

"Stop! Don’t you dare drink any more! You need to be able to walk in a straight line to the altar, and as far as I know, the path to the amphitheater is riddled with steps." My mother positioned herself between me and the drinks. I huffed.

"Well, you should have chosen option three, a wedding in one of the halls."

"There were stairs there too! What are you wearing?" she pointed at my outfit with disgust.

"The same thing as last night. If you hadn’t been so busy dining with your future father-in-law, you would have noticed. The name of the outfit is 'tonight you get lucky,' you should try it on," I said, twirling around.

"As soon as you take it off, I plan to burn it. That cannot be called clothing in any way. And by the way, you should have been at that dinner instead of running off with your sisters to God knows where! You stood up your fiancé! You don’t even know what he looks like!" she scolded, pouting.

"Does it matter? I’ll be sick of seeing his face in the coming months. It was my last night as a single woman, I had to make the most of it..."

I scanned the sober room, decorated with classic furniture in dark wood, and opened the doors leading to the private pool to let some air in.

"Turning yourself into a harlot?" she questioned with disgust. My mother's barbs were particularly venomous.

"It's called being free and sleeping with whoever you damn well please, mother, though you, of all people, have a master's in that."

"I just hope your future husband doesn't find out. You need to learn to be discreet." She moved her hands nervously.

"Like you?"

It was no secret that my mother hadn’t married for love. She married my father to secure a good life. Her best asset was her appearance, and when the promising *Vor v zakone*, Vladimir Korolev, set his eyes on her, she made her own father agree to sell her after losing a bet he couldn't pay.

My mother was always a woman who knew how to achieve her goals. It was even rumored that Putin's bedroom was not unfamiliar to her.

"Are you going to tell me that you're marrying that Italian whom you don’t even know for love?"

My mother and sisters had asked me why I had agreed to marry the man my father detested. I could hide from them that we were nearly in ruins, but not the reason why I was going to give a bizarre "I do."

"You know that’s not the case. I’m a businesswoman, I don’t believe in love beyond family. The marriage to Capuleto will bring us a lot of wealth, comfort, and will silence many mouths. I need his resources to find out what’s happening with Mentium."

My mother stood by my side, both of us lost in the view over the pool water.

"Deep down, you’re not so different from me. We’re more alike than you’re willing to admit, even if it irritates you." She smiled.

In that, she was right. It wasn't just about the physical anymore. My mother was capable of selling her soul to the devil for what she believed was best for herself or her children, and so was I. I remained silent.

"You've wasted enough time, go take a shower, Nikita. Your sisters are already doing their hair and makeup."

I wasn't going to contradict her, time was not on my side, it was my desire to remain free that stopped my feet from moving, though I eventually gave in. I had chosen my fate, now was not the time to back out.

My last thought took me back to a warehouse and a handsome face covered by a wild beard, wishing me luck. Maybe I'd visit him sooner than I thought.

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