Chapter 5
Aurora
Two years later…
Misha Petrov; 24. Aurora D’Angelo; 21.
Sitting in the private jet with Abbie, I stare out of the tiny window. Whenever I have time, my thoughts return to the night of the explosion and my prince.
To this day, I still don’t know who he is.
I’m not going to lie. I was crushed when he didn’t come to visit me in the hospital and disappointed when it was clear he wasn’t going to make contact.
But with time, the disappointment faded until I was left with a beautiful memory.
My tall, dark, and handsome mystery man will forever be my prince and the first man I kissed. My stomach is always filled with butterflies when I think of him, and I hope it never stops.
Yes, I almost died, but the fantasy I’ve built around that night far outweighs the trauma. In a way, it helped me deal with it all.
My parents were so upset that I snuck out with Abbie, I never dared to ask my father to find the man. Secretly, I held onto the hope that I’d run into him somewhere.
Abbie was also injured during the blast. She had a broken leg, but luckily one of my prince’s friends made sure she got out alive.
I now regret not asking my prince what his name was.
And honestly, I feel silly for referring to him as my prince.
Does he think of me?
Does he even remember me?
“What are you thinking about?” Abbie asks to draw me out of my thoughts.
I never told her he kissed me. I couldn’t bring myself to share it with her. The romantic moment is buried deep in my heart where no one can taint it.
“About St. Monarch’s,” I lie.
“It’s going to be an amazing four years.” Abbie’s excitement is always infectious, and it makes my heart lighten. “Living in a five-star castle,” she sighs dreamily, “and getting pampered whenever we’re not training is going to be amazing.”
“I’m just glad to be out of the house,” I mutter.
Yes, my parents practically locked me up as punishment for going to the nightclub, then finally, my father announced that I’d be attending St. Monarch’s for four years.
St. Monarch’s is a castle that was converted into an exclusive and elite resort and training center for anyone in the criminal world with enough money. It’s also the only neutral ground in the world where no killing is tolerated.
I’m fully aware that St. Monarch’s is run by my father’s enemies, but because the establishment adheres to strict rules, I’ll be safe. St. Monarch’s is open to anyone, whether you’re friend or foe.
Since the previous head of the bratva, Alexei Koslov, took over St. Monarch’s, there have been no known incidents of anyone being killed on the premises.
Believe it or not, there’s a code of honor among criminals, and once you walk through the doors of St. Monarch’s, you’re seen as a paying customer
and not an enemy.
“Do you think the training will be hard?” Abbie asks.
“I have no idea.” I lock eyes with my friend. “The best have been trained at St. Monarch’s, so it will probably be brutal.”
It’s not a lie. The best assassins, custodians (protectors and bodyguards), smugglers…God, anything crime-related you can think of has been trained at the establishment.
That’s why we’re going to St. Monarch’s. Our fathers feel it’s time for us to learn about our family businesses. They also want us to learn how to shoot a gun and to be able to defend ourselves in a fight.
During the next four years, we’ll be taught how to carry ourselves as true mafia princesses.
I’m equal parts anxious and excited, but at least I’m no longer stuck at home.
Abbie grins at me. “I hope there are some hot men. Some eye candy will make our time there amazing.”
Abbie’s always positive about everything in life. It’s another reason I love her so much. She always makes the best out of any situation.
When I just smile at her, she carries on, “Imagine we meet our future husbands there?” She rolls her eyes and sighs, “We’ve been lucky that our fathers haven’t forced us into arranged marriages after the nightclub disaster. I feel the next four years will be the last of our freedom. Once we’re done at St. Monarch’s we won’t be able to avoid getting married anymore.”
“True,” I huff.
It’s no secret I’m opposed to an arranged marriage. It’s not the fairytale dream I have for myself.
Even though there are only clouds outside, I glance out of the tiny window again and say, “If only dreams came true.”
“Yeah,” Abbie agrees. She lifts her chin. “We’ll just have to make our own dreams a reality. We’ll train our butts off and become badass bitches who rule the world.”
Laughter bubbles over my lips, and I nod at Abbie. “Yeah, if anyone can do it, it will be you.”
My friend pins me with a serious look. “Us. We’re doing this together.” “Us,” I agree, love for Abbie warming my heart.
The pilot announces that we’re landing soon and to fasten our seatbelts.
I glance at our bodyguards, who will only escort us to St. Monarch’s before returning home. The only time a bodyguard is allowed on St. Monarch’s grounds is when they’re training. The facility is secure, and no additional guards are needed on the grounds.
I check my seatbelt before smiling at Abbie. “At least we won’t have shadows following us around.”
She nods eagerly. “The next four years are going to be amazing. Our suites are right next to each other. It will be like the old days.”
“I never thought I’d live to see the day you admit to missing school,” I tease her.
She scrunches her nose. “I don’t miss school, but I do miss seeing you every day. The last two years, I got withdrawal symptoms from not getting to be with you every day. I swear, I did backflips of happiness when my dad told me I’d be going to St. Monarch’s.”
“Aww,” I coo. “I missed you too.”
We only got to see each other whenever our families had a get-together. Honestly, I was just as happy as Abbie when my parents told me about St.
Monarch’s. Sure, living there will be an experience, but I’m just glad I get to see Abbie every day again.
“Remember what your father said,” Elio, one of my guards, says. “St.
Monarch’s isn’t some five-star resort.”
Abbie rolls her eyes, but it doesn’t stop Elio from continuing. “The best of the best are trained there.” He pins me with a harsh stare. “Your enemies will be crawling all over the place. Even though no killing is permitted, other shit can happen that might make you wish they’d killed you instead. Watch your back at all times.”
“Jesus,” Abbie mutters. “What a buzz kill.” She scowls at Elio. “We’ve already had this speech from our parents, we don’t need it from you too.”
He shakes his head at Abbie, and luckily we touch down on the tarmac before the two of them can get into a fight.
Elio really didn’t have to remind me that St. Monarch’s isn’t as rosy as Abbie is making it out to be. Dad drilled it into my brain that members of the bratva and Italian mafia are currently training there, and I have to avoid them at all costs.
My parents are letting me attend St. Monarch’s because they know they can’t hide me from the real world forever. At some point, I’ll have to learn how the criminal world works, and now is as good a time as any.
After our guards make sure it’s safe to descend the plane, we make our way to the armored SUV. The St. Monarch’s emblem is engraved on the passenger and driver’s doors.
I feel a spark of excitement as I climb into the backseat with Abbie. She grins widely at me, her brown eyes sparkling.
While the guards load our luggage into another SUV, Abbie asks, “What are we doing after we’ve unpacked?”
“We can walk around and just see where everything is.”
“Okay, after that, we’re making an appointment for a massage.” A mischievous look fills her eyes. “I hope they have a male masseuse. Carved abs and a rough touch would be fantastic.”
“Jesus,” I laugh. “I seriously doubt St. Monarch’s has those kinds of services.”
She lets out a huff, pretending to be disappointed. “A girl can hope.”
The guards pile into the SUVs, and soon Abbie and I are gushing with happiness from being back in Geneva. We both love Switzerland with its snowy alps and picture-perfect cities and villages.
When we’re able to see St. Monarch’s from a distance, my stomach spins with excitement and nerves. I know the castle has been renovated, and seeing it standing proud at the top of a hill, I can’t wait to explore it.
We lose sight of the magnificent grounds when we drive up a road lined with trees, and a moment later, large imposing gates loom in front of us.
“Holy shit,” I gasp.
“You can say that again,” Abbie murmurs.
St. Monarch’s is more than a castle. I have no words for how grand and monumental the place is. It looks like a photo straight from Pinterest.
After the guards at the gate have checked our IDs and verified our details, the gates slowly swing open, and we’re driven onto the grounds.
“Oh, my God,” Abbie laughs. “I’m going to love it here.”
Perfectly manicured gardens line the sides of the driveway that leads to a magnificent fountain with a statue of two angels caught in a swordfight.
Everywhere there are guards dressed in black combat uniforms that are heavily armed.
The SUVs stop in front of the stairs leading to the entrance.
“Shit, it feels like we should’ve worn ballgowns,” Abbie jokes.
“Yeah.” I see a woman come out of the doors and point to her. “Nope, she’s wearing tights and a crop top. We’re good.”
“Damn, she’s gorgeous,” Abbie mentions.
“And probably deadly,” Elio adds. “You’re not here to make friends.” “Ugh.” Abbie shoves the door open and climbs out.
I wait for Elio to open my door, and when I step out of the SUV, I glance over the grounds.
There’s so much space, I’m sure it’s easy to avoid any enemies. Lots of hiding places.
“Come, let’s go,” Abbie calls. “I can’t wait to see our suites.”
Just as I join Abbie, four guards come out of the castle, followed by Carson Koslov, the director of St. Monarch’s.
“Welcome to St. Monarch’s. I’m Director Koslov.” Even though the man must be over fifty, he’s attractive and has a sharp gaze that settles on us. “My guards will show you to your suites, and I’d appreciate it if you could join my wife and I for dinner at seven in the dining hall.”
Abbie nods. “It would be our pleasure.”
“Thank you for having us,” I add quickly.
Director Koslov nods at us before he turns and leaves us with the four guards.
Elio comes to stand next to me, and when our luggage has been off- loaded, he says, “I’m staying in Geneva while you’re here. If anything happens, contact me, and I’ll come for you.”
“Thank you, but you can go home. Mr. Sartori has a whole army stationed at their vacation mansion.”
“That’s where I’ll be,” my bodyguard grumbles at me. “Call if anything happens.”
Just to appease him, I nod.
Finally, our personal guards climb back into the SUVs, and we watch them drive toward the gates.
“Jesus, I thought they’d never leave,” Abbie mutters, then she aims an excited smile at me. “We’re here, babe!”
We hug, and when the St. Monarch’s guards take our luggage inside, we follow them.
I have a feeling the next four years are going to be life-changing. In a good way.