Chapter 2 One year prior I stare at the narrow space in the hedges, hardly able to believe my luck. Is this really happening? I've been lonely. Restless. Half-wild from being overprotected by my family. I know I'm the baby, but how long does that title last? Will I still be the baby when I'm twenty-five? Thirty? Forty? I'm tired of being told what to do. Tired of being the good girl. I don't want to be the good girl anymore. I've watched my brothers get married, one after the other. All three of them. And my older sister has been married for years now. It's like everyone's next season of life has started... except mine. So tonight, it's time. Something has to change. If nothing else, I need to prove to myself that I can carve out a private pocket of freedom, one that nobody else knows about. I wait until everyone is distracted. I made a beautiful dinner tonight and served it with a smile, like I always do. They call me Little Zoya. The caretaker. The one who likes to cook and clean, and take care of everyone. And I do love taking care of all of them. My oldest brother, Rafail, and his wife, Polina. My nieces and nephews. Rodion and his fierce, brilliant wife, Ember. And now Semyon, who's clearly falling hard for Anya. They're not married yet, but it won't be long. A sliver of moonlight catches the path ahead of me. It's early summer just outside Moscow, and the crickets chirp a quiet chorus. It's beautiful. Desolate. And the rising heat adds to the thrill of doing something I shouldn't. No one will find me tonight. I've planned this too well. In my bedroom, there's a fluffy tan teddy bear, age-worn and well-loved, propped on my bed. And hidden inside is the small monitor my brothers use to track me. I've tested my little decoy three times now. Once during a quick trip into the city. The second time, I stayed inside but crept around the house to see if they'd notice. The third? I snuck out for ice cream at a local street fair. No one ever noticed. We have guards at every exit and entrance, of course. My brothers monitor everything. They're not just overbearing but militant. I've never been out like this before, not without a bodyguard trailing close behind. Even at school, someone was always watching. Nobody dared approach the Kopolov family's precious little princess. They knew if anyone tried anything, my brothers would kill them. Literally. No one took the risk. So I stood alone at school dances while the shadows of my guards hovered nearby like grim sentinels. I went shopping alone, to the bookstore alone, and spent more than my fair share at restaurants, eating solitary meals. I was lucky to have one friend outside of my family. Just one. Mia, the only one who's ever helped me bend the rules. "Zoya?" Mia's voice hisses from just ahead. "I'm here," I whisper back. My heart pounds. I rub my clammy palms against the thighs of my fitted jeans. I'm nervous tonight, more than usual. But I'm also resolved. Tonight, I'm doing something that would make my brothers lose their ever-loving minds. I'm going to a club. I'm going to have a drink. Unsupervised. And god help me, I'm going to get kissed. I've already made it my mission. "You ready, baby?" My best friend Mia grins as she peeks around the corner of the tall hedges. Her eyes widen when she takes me in. "Zoya... you look gorgeous," she praises. "No one would ever know who you are." Tonight? I've pulled out all the stops. I'm wearing a fitted, low-cut, red halter top with a vee that dips nearly to my navel. The color pops against my pale skin, bringing out my blue eyes and dark-brown hair. My jeans hug every curve. Red heels give me just enough height to feel bold, and a tiny clutch completes the look. I've practiced walking, practiced my smile. I give her a small, nervous grin as hope surges in my chest. I sigh. How I wish I could live my life without anyone knowing who I am. My name, the title, the connections, the weight of all that entails... I'm over it. I need something more. With a deep breath, I step out through the hedges, just as I rehearsed. They're covered in ivy and nestled into the old stone wall behind the estate. Hidden. Secret. Though it's not my first attempt at escape, this is the first one that feels real. The dusky air wraps around me. Moonlight filters through the trees, and the buzz of crickets fills the silence. For a moment, I feel like Cinderella on her way to the ball. And then... I'm free. I'm shaking with nerves as Mia chatters in the driver's seat of her hand-me-down car about some guy she's meeting tonight. "Are you sure your cousin isn't coming?" she teases with a wink. "Matvei?" I snort. "Are you serious? He's terrifying. Unhinged." "And the only one of them who's single," she replies, waggling her eyebrows. "Your brothers are so hot." "Ew. Gross, Mia. Stop." She laughs, and I shake my head, still filled with nerves. But I'm not turning back now. She parks her car alongside the curb in the way back. Her nondescript black Kia doesn't catch attention like my brothers' flashy, sleek cars. I like that. Still, I feel exposed. Unprotected. I remind myself, I need to try. I have to try. With a deep breath, I follow behind Mia, well aware of the eyes of the men following the line of my cleavage and the sway of my ass as I walk in. Mia orders me something that's like dessert in a glass over ice, creamy and sweet, and it goes down real easy. I'm cautious. I don't accept anything from strangers, and I don't leave my drink unattended. I'm not stupid. So I just tentatively sip, like I belong here. I let my gaze wander, with one eye glancing at the door as if expecting Rafail to storm in here and drag me home. But no one comes. No texts even ping my phone. I let out a breath. I'm getting away with it. My eyes settle on a man at the bar. Attractive. Older than I am. Longish dark hair curls around his ears. Warm brown eyes. A dimple flashes when he gives me a wolfish grin. A warning bell clangs in my head, but I tell myself I'm just nervous about being discovered. "Hello, beautiful," he says in a low voice. "Don't you look stunning tonight? Let me buy you a drink." I smile shyly. "Thank you." Mia's already in the corner, tangled up in someone else's arms and tongue. God. Seriously? She's left me all alone. I signal to her, but she doesn't even look my way. I think of the house, imagine curling into my favorite chair with a hot cup of tea and a book. That actually sounds better than this. Is that lame? "Are you alone?" the man asks. Is that a normal pickup line, or should I be worried? I shrug, noncommittal, and let the conversation carry us forward. He's friendly and easy to talk to. Probably in his mid-twenties, so younger than I thought but older than I am. After a while, he leans closer. "It's loud in here," he murmurs. "Let's go for a walk." I hesitate. Definitely more dangerous. Still, I want to be kissed. I decided I would be. Secretly. Recklessly. Like I'm a woman someone wants, and not just a girl someone wants to protect. I glance toward Mia, trying again to signal her, to reassure myself she's got my back, but she doesn't look up. I clench my fists. It is hard to hear in here, and it's awkward to have a first kiss at a bar. "Maybe." I'm considering. I look to the door, half-decided, when I feel the weight of someone's gaze on me. At the far corner of the bar, hidden in shadow, a man sits with a drink cradled in his large, rough hand. I can't make out his face, just the broad, tense set of his shoulders. Stillness, like he hasn't fidgeted a day in his life. And he's watching me. He isn't even pretending not to. And I can feel his eyes burning through me. Me. Why? I look down again and note how big and thick his hands are, wrapped around what I can now see is a full pint of Guinness. Condensation rolls down the side of the glass, but it looks untouched. A prop? He just stares, like he's lost in thought, or maybe pretending to be. I swallow hard, watching him. Does he know Rafail? Does he know me? I want to believe that this is only in my head, that I'm safe, and that no one recognizes Rafail Kopolov's baby sister. But I know better. "It's going to get busy in here soon," the guy next to me pushes. I don't even know his name. If Rafail could see me now, he'd lose his shit. My oldest brother has always been more father than sibling. He became my guardian when I was just a child, and I've never disobeyed him. Well. Until I started sneaking out. Until I started feeling crushed under the weight of expectation. I grit my teeth and nod, then push myself to standing and turn my back on the man in the corner. We walk hand in hand down the quiet street, making small talk about the last movie we saw. Turns out he doesn't like thrillers the way I do, and he definitely doesn't read the romance novels I inhale, but we have a few things in common. Still, this is boring the fuck out of me. Is this what women like? He's hot, he's nice enough, I guess... but I'm disinterested. He's too nice, too eager to say things he seems to want me to hear, and for some reason, I keep staring at how soft his hands are. We're approaching a streetlight when I suddenly realize I don't have my phone with me. "Where's my phone?" I mutter, patting my pockets. "Strange. I always have it on me." I sigh. "I have to go back to the bar," I tell him. "I think I left my phone." He grins and winks. "You didn't. I've got it right here." He opens his palm and shows me my phone, resting there like a prize. A chill of unease slides down my spine. How did he get that? I never let it out of my sight, the one concession to Rafail that makes sense to me. I swallow hard. "That's mine," I say, trying to keep my voice steady. "Can I have it back, please?" "I'll give it to you," he says with a wink, "in exchange for a kiss." My heart jumps hard. I'm not sure if it's excitement or fear. I wanted a kiss. Didn't I? But now that he's closer, everything shifts. His teeth are slightly crooked. He smells faintly of garlic and onions. My attraction drains away fast. Have I been that protected? That sheltered? Is this what it's like, meeting a man in the wild? Am I broken? "I'd like my phone back, please," I say again, softer this time. "I'm not ready to kiss you." He crowds me suddenly, pressing me into a darkened doorway. Above us, the clouds shift, moonlight breaking through in a silvery wash across the sky. "I bought you a drink," he says, with a tinge of annoyance. "And you won't even give me a kiss?" Don't guys buy girls drinks? Was that some weird expectation I didn't know about? He leans in, mouth slightly parted, and for one crazy, wild second, I'm convinced he's a werewolf. That he's about to bare his teeth and bite me, or throw back his head and howl into the night. I shiver. I've read too many books. "No," I say more firmly. "Not now." My voice leaves room for a maybe, but that doesn't matter. Not now. Not like this. I put more force in my tone. "Give me my phone." But he doesn't. His eyes flash at me, and I realize even though he's not that much bigger than I am, I'm small and alone, and I'm not sure I could get away that easily. And where would I even go? Panic claws at my chest. Fuck. Shit. Fuck. Why did I do this? Why did I want to be alone? Why did I have to leave my brothers? Why did I have to prove anything to anyone? I won't scream. I can't panic. My pride won't let me. But I'm cornered. Vulnerable. And this man is too close. "Come here," he murmurs, his voice low and greasy. "Don't be afraid. I'll make sure you like it." "I said no," I snap, louder this time, clearer. Goddamn it, I'm Zoya Kopolova, and I knew how to shoot a gun before most of my peers knew how to drive a car. Why didn't I think to bring a weapon? They're as readily available in my house as a pair of shoes. His face twists with anger, and he lets my phone fall to the ground. It hits hard, and I wince. "Give me a fucking kiss," he growls and shoves me back against the door. My brothers taught me self-defense. They taught me how to shoot. But right now, every lesson vanishes. My mind blanks. I could get away from him, but without a weapon, a phone, or any idea of where I am... He grips my chin and pushes me again when a voice cuts in. "You'll leave her the fuck alone now." The voice comes from behind us. Thick Irish accent. Cold. Dangerous. "You do what I say by the count of three, or I'll slice your feckin' throat. Try me. It's been too damn long." The man holding me jolts and spins. "Who the fuck are you?" The stranger steps into the light. Late twenties, maybe early thirties. At least ten, twelve years older than I am. Tall. Still. Radiating power and calm like a storm waiting to break. Even in the dim moonlight, his blue eyes glint like cut sapphires. A five o'clock shadow shades his jaw, and a scar cuts through one eyebrow. Ink curls around his collarbone and disappears beneath his shirt. The man watching me from inside the bar. He followed us? Did Rafail put him up to this? He steps forward, anchoring his hands on his hips. Broad, solid, capable hands. I swallow. "You heard what I said," he murmurs in that accent, then blows out a breath. "I don't repeat myself. I've already exercised what little patience I have." There's a weight to his presence, a quiet confidence that says he's used to being recognized. Obeyed. Feared even. He wasn't just watching. He was waiting. When the man doesn't back off fast enough, the Irishman strikes like lightning. He grabs him by the collar and swiftly delivers one solid, brutal punch. A growled word in what might be Gaelic? "I don't know how you Russians do things," he says coolly. "But where I come from, we don't kiss a woman who says no." His grip clamps on the guy's collar, slamming him into the wall. I wince. "Now, are you going to leave the poor lass alone, or do I need to teach you a lesson?" His tone isn't raised, but it slices through the air. "You stay the hell out of this." Slam. A punch to the jaw. One to the gut. Another to the temple. The creep crumples to his knees. The Irishman stands over him, blood on his knuckles and not a single hair out of place. He frowns as if looking down at discarded rubbish on the pavement. He isn't even winded. "Aye, so you see," he says with unnerving calm. "The chance for another choice is now gone. Get the fuck out of here before I end you." I can't breathe. My chest is tight, and my legs won't move. My brothers would react like this, exactly like this, before they beat the creep beyond recognition. No one fucks with a Kopolov woman. But this... doesn't feel the way it would if my brothers were the ones delivering justice and protection. The creep staggers to his feet and runs. A sensible choice. The Irishman turns to me. His voice gentles, his blue eyes glinting. "You all right, lass?" Lass. Mmm. I like that. I swallow and nod. "You didn't have to save me," I whisper. He smiles, and a dimple appears in his cheek. My god, he's hot and definitely Irish. Ruddy cheeks and dark-brown curls around his ears. Those bright, terrifyingly blue eyes. Something in them makes my stomach twist. "I suppose I came here for nothing, then, eh?" he says, cocking a grin. "Should've at least had the stupid feckin' Guinness." Then he reaches for my hand. I flinch, but his touch is gentle. Soothing. The warmth of his rough hand over mine is reassuring. Wordlessly, he lifts my hand and presses a kiss across the knuckles. Old-fashioned. Arresting. "Thank you," I whisper, my heart pounding. "Now, little lass," he says, his voice dropping low. "I don't know why you're here, but something tells me you probably shouldn't be, eh?" He bends and picks up my phone. Miraculously, it's unharmed. He taps something into the screen. "This is my number," he says. "I'll be around a bit. Not from around here, you know. Ireland. But I'm not heading back just yet." He holds the phone out to show me. "You get into trouble, you call this number. See?" Why is he protecting me? Why does he care? I nod. "Okay," I whisper. He flashes a grin-bright and devastating. My belly melts. "Good girl," he says softly. "That's a good girl." Then he leans in, hooks a finger under my chin. "Now go back inside. Find whoever you came with. Go home where it's safe, eh?" I nod again and swallow hard. Safe. Funny word, coming from him. Because somehow, I know... I've never been in more danger in my life. A Fated Encounter movie summary talks about Emma Brown who is forced by her father Henry to take her sister Bella's place and marry Tommy Anderson to save her business. Unlike the rumor Tommy turns ou...