Nadya's pov

"We're here," the taxi driver announced over the roar of the rain. I stared at him in disbelief.

"But my house is still a long way from here. I'll be drenched," I protested, handing him a couple of bills.

"Don't worry, miss. You'll run fast," he said with a shrug. Before I could even shut the door, the car sped off.

The rain was coming down in sheets-a relentless wall of water-and running would have been pointless anyway. I was already soaked through, so I trudged home at a steady pace. Honestly, any enthusiasm I'd had about guests had completely evaporated, which gave me the perfect idea for how to avoid an unwanted meeting.

The moment I stepped inside, Mom peeked out from the living room and gasped when she saw me.

I had to summon every ounce of my acting ability to sell it. A loud, impressively convincing sneeze echoed through the spacious hallway, and I wrapped my arms around myself, dragging my feet as if every step took effort.

"Oh, sweetheart, what happened? You could have called-I would've brought you an umbrella," Mom exclaimed, hurrying toward me. "Are you okay? No fever? Headache?"

Seriously? As if someone could catch a cold that fast. But her over-the-top concern worked perfectly in my favor.

"Mom, I'm fine. A hot bath will fix everything," I said with a reassuring smile, then pressed my advantage. "I'm exhausted and completely soaked. Maybe you could handle the guests without me? If they even show up in this storm."

"Of course, no problem at all. But if you start feeling worse, promise you'll tell me."

"I will," I replied, barely suppressing a triumphant smile.

The second I was out of sight, I dashed up the stairs to my room. I needed a bath and dry clothes as quickly as possible-actually getting sick was not part of the plan.

Afterward, I went through my full skincare, hair, and body routine. My stylist hadn't just selected my wardrobe and overall look; she'd also recommended products perfectly suited to my hair and skin.

Once I dried my hair, I changed into my favorite loungewear-a cropped top and shorts-and climbed into bed with my laptop.

Thank goodness we live in the age of online shopping. I could order contact lenses and simply pick them up later. I checked the city map, chose the best-rated salon, and placed an order for several pairs.

My phone, which had been eerily silent until then, suddenly lit up.

"What do you want at this hour?" I muttered irritably as I answered. "Valen, to what do I owe this late-night call?"

"I just wanted to make sure you're perfectly fine," his overly sweet voice flowed through the speaker.

"And what exactly could possibly happen to me?" I scoffed.

"Nothing, darling. Do you hear me?" His tone sharpened abruptly, as it often did. "Nothing must happen to you. Not a single bruise, not a scratch-and don't you dare get a tan. Understood?"

"Yes, I understand. You told me all of that yesterday. Why repeat it a hundred times?"

"I shouldn't have let you travel alone. Giving you this long of a vacation was a mistake."

"But I need to rest. Be reasonable," I pleaded softly.

"Fine." After a brief pause, he added, "Nadya, what did you eat today?"

Here we go. Should I start sending him daily reports next? Maybe log every step I take and every bite I eat? Then I remembered my friend's request and seized the opportunity to change the subject.

"Valen, your call is actually perfect timing. I need something from you. I want to participate in a photo shoot..."

"I forbid it. No. Absolutely not. End of discussion."

So predictable. I'd expected this, but I wasn't about to give up.

"My face won't be visible, and my name won't be mentioned anywhere. My best friend asked me. Please, Valen. It's important."

"Important, you say?" He scoffed, then fell silent. That was a good sign-at least he hadn't exploded. "What's the concept?"

"Lingerie."

"No. Absolutely not. I forbid it, do you hear me? Those curves are meant to represent luxury brands only."

"But it is a designer collection, so please-"

"What brand exactly?"

Damn. I had no idea. I hadn't even asked Nina. But before I could respond, he continued:

"Fine. I'll allow it-but on two conditions. First, your face must not be visible. Second, you'll grant me one request."

"What kind of request?" I asked, already celebrating internally.

"I'll tell you later."

"Alright. I agree."

"Good. Then get some sleep, Nadya. And don't stare at that screen too long. I won't tolerate dark circles under your eyes."

"Okay."

I ended the call and immediately texted Nina to confirm I'd participate in the shoot. She replied with a flood of ecstatic emojis, and I set my phone aside.

The day had drained me completely, and exhaustion washed over me in heavy waves. I was seconds away from falling asleep when a soft knock sounded at my door. Assuming Mom had come to check on her precious daughter, I called out without thinking:

"Come in. Why are you knocking-"

But it wasn't my mother who stepped inside.

And not a woman at all...

The rain came down in relentless sheets, but that didn't stop Vlad from putting his plan into motion-especially after his own uncle had practically shown him the door of his office. The old man hadn't even been buried yet, and that bastard was already behaving like he owned everything. Vlad didn't know how much Uncle Sergey actually understood about the will, but one thing was clear: the fool knew perfectly well that he would be running the company for the next six months.

There was no alternative. No matter how unattractive Nadya might be, he had to make her marry him. And the person who could help him-at least, as Vlad hoped-was her mother. He needed to act fast. Victor Batalov was out of town, and that man hovered over his precious daughter like a hawk. Once he returned, getting anywhere near the girl would become much more complicated.

Just imagine-his entire future now hinged on a small, foolish blonde. How had Vladislav Darvin, a wealthy heir, managed to sink this low at twenty-six?

"Where are you headed in weather like this?" Stas called from behind him.

Despite being grown men with substantial financial independence, the brothers still lived together in their parents' house. It was their sanctuary, their private refuge. Neither of them brought their mistresses there, preserving it as the last untouched corner of their otherwise gray, joyless lives.

"Weren't you planning to hit the club again tonight?" Vlad asked, arching a brow as he slipped on his shoes.

"Not in the mood. Figured I'd spend the evening alone. What about you-off to see your future bride?"

A grin immediately spread across the younger brother's face. He would savor this for months-the fact that, for the first time in his life, Vlad had no real choice.

"Yes. I want to speak with her mother. I have a feeling she's the one who'll help me win her daughter over."

"Win her over?" Stas scoffed and burst out laughing. "She should be the one chasing you."

"Tell me something-are you really staying out of this? You have a claim to the inheritance, too."

"Not a chance. A body like that shouldn't be wasted on just one woman-especially one that plain and dim."

Stas ran a hand through his carefully styled fair hair and smiled with lazy arrogance.

"Good thing I don't care," Vlad replied, pulling the door open. "There's too much money on the line. I wouldn't give a damn if I had to wake up next to a wicked old witch every morning."

The door shut behind him. He opened his umbrella and made his way toward the car.

The drive to the Batalovs' estate took longer than usual because of the violent storm. Fortunately, Vlad had arranged gifts for both women in advance-otherwise,e he would have wasted valuable time searching for a flower shop, which at this hour would already be closed.

He was just about to knock when the door creaked open. Apparently, he was expected.

"Good evening," the middle-aged housekeeper said, stepping aside to let him in. "Mrs. Katerina is waiting for you in the living room. May I take your umbrella?"

Handing over the dripping umbrella, Darvin lifted his chin slightly and made his way inside. He remembered the house well from childhood. His grandfather used to drag him here nearly against his will, forcing him to spend time with a small girl who cried constantly. Stas would always slip away to the garden, leaving Vlad to endure Nadya's tears after yet another cutting remark he had thrown her way.

Katerina sat upright in an armchair, her posture flawless, her presence composed and dignified. If only her daughter had inherited that grace-but no. Vladislav would have to refine his future wife himself.

"You look radiant as always, Mrs. Katerina," he said, stepping closer.

She smiled warmly and extended her hand for him to kiss.

"That may be a bit formal. Please, call me Katerina."

"As you wish, Katerina," he replied, taking a seat across from her. "And where is your daughter? I was hoping to see her."

"Nadya was caught in the rain and isn't feeling well. She's upstairs in her room. You're welcome to see her, but she won't be joining us for dinner."

"I'd like to speak with her-just a little later. For now, I have something important to discuss with you."

This was the perfect moment to present the carefully rehearsed story. After that, he would move on to winning over the girl herself. He had no doubt the outcome would come quickly. Nadya was still naïve when it came to men. A few well-practiced gestures, a handful of calculated compliments-and she would melt at his feet like warm caramel.

"You've piqued my curiosity. What is it about?"

"Your daughter, of course." Darvin paused, noting the flicker of interest in her eyes before continuing. "It's no secret that my grandfather Makar and your father-in-law Albert dreamed of uniting our families. Before he passed, my grandfather shared his final wish with me, and I simply cannot break a promise made to a dying man."

"You're not telling me you intend to marry my daughter because of the sentimental whims of two elderly men?" Her tone shifted abruptly, turning sharp and cool.

Clearly, mentioning the will was a mistake. Convincing his future mother-in-law of his sincerity was the smarter path.

"The truth is, I care for your daughter. And I genuinely can't imagine a more suitable wife for myself."

"I'm not certain my daughter feels the same way. And naturally, I won't force her into anything."

"I understand completely. But perhaps, like me, she'll grow to care. This means a great deal to me. I won't pressure her. If she says no, I'll step aside."

"I have no objections," Katerina said after a pause. "I do think you'd make a good husband for Nadya. Fortunately, your grandfather didn't place this burden on his other grandson. That rude troublemaker, Sta,s has always irritated me."

"You're absolutely right," Vlad replied with a faint smirk, lifting the teacup she had offered him. "My brother isn't ready to devote himself to one woman. I, on the other hand, want a family. Children."

"Let's not rush that," she said gently. "Nadya is still studying, and her career-"

"I understand. I'm willing to wait as long as necessary."

"Dinner will be ready in half an hour. You may go upstairs to see Nadya in the meantime. And the weather outside is dreadful-it's already dark. Would you consider staying the night? We have plenty of guest rooms."

"If it's no trouble," he said, rising to his feet, "I'd be glad to stay. Nadya's room is still on the third floor, correct?"

Katerina nodded, smiling after him as he left the room.

Vlad ascended the stairs slowly, steadying his thoughts and preparing himself for the conversation ahead. Everything always seemed simple in his mind-but reality had a way of complicating even the best-laid plans.

He knocked.

A quiet voice invited him in.

Without hesitation, he stepped inside and firmly shut the door behind him, cutting off any instinct to retreat before the real battle even began.