Page 94 of Beautiful Agony

"Come with me. Let's go talk with Vadim about having you work for Svoboda," I say, choosing my words carefully so she can understand. "As a real model. Safe."

Though she may not grasp every word, her radiant smile tells me she understands what matters: that she has a chance to reclaim her dream.

This time on her own terms.

I accompanyTaliya into Vadim's office, watching her delicate steps in Irina's dress. The silk flows around her like water in the late afternoon light streaming through the windows.

Vadim looks up from his desk, his expression softening at the sight of us. To my surprise, he addresses Taliya directly in fluent Tuvan. Her entire demeanor transforms as they converse.

Her shoulders straighten, her gestures become animated, and a genuine smile lights up her face.

I can't understand their words, but their meaning is clear in Taliya's brightening eyes and Vadim's gentle responses. For a moment, I catch a glimpse of who she must have been before—a vivacious young girl full of dreams and determination. My heart aches knowing how close those dreams came to being destroyed forever.

Their conversation continues, punctuated by occasional laughter. Taliya's hands move expressively as she speaks, her previous shyness melting away. Finally, she bows deeply toVadim and practically floats out of the office, still wearing Irina's dress.

"What did you two discuss?" I ask once she's gone.

"Her future," Vadim says, coming around his desk. "She'll be working as a model, though not for Svoboda."

I frown. "Not Svoboda? Where then?"

A smile plays at the corners of his mouth. "A new company. One that will be entirely yours to run."

My breath catches. "What?"

"I'm thinking of calling it Eleftheria," he says. "It's Greek. For freedom."

"Why create a brand-new company?" I ask, still trying to process what he's offering me.

Vadim's fingers drum thoughtfully on his desk. "I've been doing some thinking these past three days about how to move forward."

"And?"

"Rutledge," he says, his voice hardening slightly. "I don't entirely trust that he's on our side."

I nod, remembering my tense meeting with the police captain. "He made that pretty clear. Said he'd bring down the full force of law on Svoboda if there's even a hint of criminal involvement."

"Exactly," Vadim says. "Which is why, to continue protecting people, we need a fresh start. A company that’s completely separate from Svoboda."

But something in his tone tells me there's more to it. The way his brows knit together, and how his fingers haven't stopped their restless drumming against the desk. I've learned to read these subtle shifts in him.

"But that's not the whole reason, is it?"

Vadim's eyes meet mine and I see the tension in his jaw. "No,zvyozdochka, it's not."

He reaches into his desk drawer and pulls out an envelope, sliding it across to me. The letterhead bears the distinctive logo of L.A. Fashion Week.

My fingers tremble slightly as I unfold the letter. The words blur together at first, but certain phrases jump out: "...regret to inform you..." and "...unable to accept Svoboda's application..."

"They've barred us completely?" I whisper.

"Every single one of our lines." Vadim's voice carries a dangerous edge. "No explanation given. Just a polite rejection."

My stomach churns as understanding hits. "This must be Kirsan's doing."

"It is." Vadim comes around the desk to stand beside me. "Which is why we need something new. Something he won't see coming."

"A company that has no ties to Svoboda or the Stravinsky name," I say slowly, pieces falling into place. "One that appears completely legitimate to outside scrutiny."

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