God of Deception
Introduction
The goddess. Every man’s wet dream come alive. With a talent for music and body for sex she was the actual Elite princess.
I am a creature of gilded light in a world of entrenched shadow. To the public, I am Vanessa Rossi: the violin virtuoso, the fashion muse, the untouchable heiress whose smile is a currency and whose beauty is a shield. I crafted this persona note by perfect note, a dazzling fortress against the brutal legacy of my name. I am a living dream, a masterpiece hung in a museum of my own making.
But I am also a prisoner of a past I cannot remember. There is a hollowed-out chamber in my mind, a silence where a childhood scream should be. I am a romantic who witnessed epic love, only to be bartered on my twenty-first birthday like a rare commodity. The man they gave me to is not a prince, but a storm given human form. Ivan Volkov, a name that chills the very air. In my eyes, he is the beast, and I am the sacrifice draped in pink silk.
Now, I am a goddess in a gilded cage. I have vowed to be his most exquisite form of torment, to use the very perfection they admire as my weapon. I am defiance dressed in silk, a melody of rebellion in his world of grim silence. Yet, an unsettling truth is beginning to whisper at the edges of my awareness. I am haunted by the ghost of a boy named Grey, by a tattoo I don’t remember drawing, and by the terrifying possibility that the beast I was forced to marry might be the only key to the girl I was forced to forget.
I am the calm in the eye of the storm. Where others see chaos, I see patterns—flaws in systems, weaknesses in men, opportunities in silence. My name is Ivan Andanov. In our world, that name is not spoken; it is measured, a unit of power and consequence. I inherited a kingdom built on old blood and older grudges, and I have fortified it with something far more potent: patience. My men do not follow out of passion, but out of understanding—the understanding that my logic is absolute, and my will, immutable.
There is a ghost in my architecture. A faint, persistent echo from a lifetime ago, a splinter of color in a psyche rendered in shades of grey. It has no name, only a sensation—the phantom weight of a small head on my shoulder, the scent of lemons and dust. I have compartmentalized it, of course. Filed it away with other operational hazards, a sentimental variable that has long been neutralized. Sentiment is a critical vulnerability; I have engineered myself to be without it.
The Rossi alliance is a strategic necessity. A merger of empires, a consolidation of influence. Vanessa Rossi is the ideal counterpart: polished, public, a symbol of legitimacy and beauty. Her value is objective, calculable. My approach will be one of detached respect, a clinical partnership. It is the optimal solution.
And if my gaze lingers on the curve of her neck a moment too long, if the cadence of her laughter threatens the structural integrity of my focus… these are merely anomalies in the data. Glitches to be observed, studied, and controlled. I am the master of control. And this arrangement, like all others, will bend to my design. Anything else is simply not a variable I permit.
Chapter 1
Waking up today feels surreal at best.
No. Waking up and arriving at the realisation that last night was real, that is what feels surreal.
My whole life that I had meticulously planned had been erased as if it were an afterthought. Dante Ferrars was my fiancé since I could remember. Now I realise that nothing is permanent.
I am now to be wed to the beast himself.
It is not that I do not understand things so I fear them. My fear originates from the thought that I may know too much. More than I desire to ever.
I am the daughter of Lorenzo Russo. Vanessa Russo.
My whole life, as I remember it has been spent being ogled by men. I used to be disgusted by the attention. I felt nauseated and I was repulsed.
The outright vulgar way they stared at me irked me. Made the hairs on my nape stand.
And then something hit me like a truck.
The very attention, I realised I could mould into something new. An Opportunity.
Being a wealthy dynasty’s daughter did not automatically mean I could buy success. I worked my way through the world on my own. A prodigy. I am a prodigy. A violinist at 12. Recognised by the most prestigious musicians by 14.
I seduced. Gave exactly enough to entice them but not enough to answer their questions.
Men couldn’t resist me. No one could. Atleast that what I thought.
Yet, my own to-be husband seems to not want to even glance at my face.
I frustrates me in an inexplicable way. It makes me want to claw at his face. He frustrates me. His presence frustrates me. His composure frustrates me beyond words.
But, despite all this hatred, I felt a rush of electricity going through me when I saw him.
A feeling that couldn’t be explained.
Hate. This must be how extreme hate feels like. It must be.
A soft knock on my door captures my attention for a moment and before I could form a response and loud banging follows.
I know exactly who this is.
Kiara Rozetti
“Vanessa Russo! You better not be dead in there!”
I hear inaudible whispers before a more composed voice follows.
Gianna Moretti
“V…? Are you alright? Open the door please.”
I groggily get out of my ginormous bed and make my way to the door.
As I open it I mentally prepare myself for the chaos to ensue and unlock the door.
Within milliseconds arms wrap around me in a ferocious embrace.
Vanessa Russo
“Geez. Are you trying to attack me?”
Kiara doesn’t budge. Instead her hold grows tighter until I ease into it.
Vanessa Russo
“What? You two acting as if you thought I was dead.”
Kiara Rozetti
“Although I was contemplating the idea, G smacked me upside the head.”
That earns a chuckle from me.
Gianna Moretti
“Seriously though, you went MIA all of a sudden. We thought you fled but couldn’t find you at your parents mansion. And this specimen thought you were dead and tracked you down to here.”
Vanessa Russo
“Kudos to your tech skills for resurrecting me.”
Kiara pulled away uncertainly and went into the room, plopping down onto the bed.
Kiara Rozetti
“So why did the princess leave?”
Princess. That hideous nickname.
Vanessa Russo
“Ugh. On a serious note, you need to stop calling me that.”
Kiara Rozetti
“Ugh. On a serious note, you need to tell us what happened.”
Vanessa Russo
“What’s the point? Everyone already knows. No one wanted to consider my opinion first.”
Gianna Moretti
“Wait. Did you like Dante….?”
Her voice has a nervous note which I’m not able to put much thought into before Kiara replies.
Kiara Rozetti
“That’s not the topic of discussion!”
Vanessa Russo
“Did you have breakfast?”
Kiara Rozetti
“Neither is that!”
Gianna rolls her eyes playfully.
Vanessa Russo
“I feel nothing.”
Vanessa Russo
“If that iceberg doesn’t want anything to do with me then I’ll make him want me.”
Vanessa Russo
“Scratch that. I’ll make him need me.”
Vanessa Russo
“It’s quite simple.”
Vanessa Russo
“I’ll become his gorgeous tormentor.”
Vanessa Russo
“Give him exactly what I feel for him.”
Vanessa Russo
“Which is hate. I will drive him insane until that stone cracks and so does that unfeeling heart.”
Kiara Rozetti
“Or I could arrange his execution. Guillotine style. Oh! Fun fact—“
I laugh. An actual laugh. Not a hysterical one. A real one. And feel my tensions start to ease away.
Why should I be tense? It will be him who will be. I’ll be the perfect troublemaker.
Ivan Volkov, I vow to wreck your life over and over until you regret ever waltzing to my life.
Chapter 2
The all consuming fear of uncertainty
And I despise it to the depths of hell. Maybe not more than my own fiancé though
He is at the top of my hit-list and I just want to wipe that bloody indifference off his serial-killer face so badly that for a second I forgot who I was.
I am Vanessa Fucking Rossi. I do not fret over a measly man. Okay fine. He’s not measly but still!
When did I start ruining my own mood over a man?!
It’s him who should be fretting.
And even as I say this my mind is filled by thoughts of him— no.
Now I am currently in a mall. Obviously dad had to rent out the whole mall for “safety” purposes and yet I don’t mind.
I want ‘him’ to find out and go insane about how high maintenance I am.
Let this be a trailer for the rest of his miserable life.
I’ll put this aside for our personal meeting tomorrow. Eek!
Vanessa Russo
*eyes gleaming with mischief*
Kiara Rozetti
“Bish. You’re glowing.”
Gianna Moretti
“I’ll back you up Ki. What happened to you V?”
Vanessa Russo
“Nothing…..”
But even as I said those words I couldn’t help but crack a tiny smirk.
We then went for the wedding attire and were joined by my gorgeous mother. I can see why my dad fell in love at first sight.
I mean… I heard their sugarcoated lovestory like a gazillion times but something tells me they left out the ugly parts. I’m curious and at the same time relieved because my dad was apparently not the admirable person he is now, back then.
Isabella Russo
“Vanessa? Why are you spacing out so much dear?”
Mom came closer and gently placed her warm hand over my forehead. It feels familiar and homely but I don’t let myself indulge in that warmth for long.
Afterall, my main goal is to scare away my own groom
Vanessa Russo
“I’m alright mum.”
I give her a bright smile but I know for a fact that she didn’t buy it one bit.
We in unison entered the designer boutique where my custom-gowns were on display.
Kiara Rozetti
*gasped dramatically* “Bitch! Is this for real or am I dreaming?!”
I pinch her shoulder. Hard.
I stare at Gianna and we three burst out laughing.
Isabella Russo
“Seriously. You three are like bunnies on crack”
Mum let’s out this variation of a sigh and a laugh combined which just results in us laughing again.
Isabella Russo
*shook her head in exasperation* you three are impossible.
Isabella Russo
“Anyways. Vanessa? Which one do you like the most?”
I genuinely cannot choose. They are all gorgeous but if I had to choose it would be—
Vanessa Russo
“The first one. I could wear the second for the reception”
Kiara Rozetti
“And that’s on period.”
Isabella Russo
*shakes her head in disbelief*
Isabella Russo
“I’ll be at the register.”
As soon as those words leave mum’s mouth as if they were puppets, Spencer and Caleb make their way to carry everything for her.
Spencer and Caleb are my dad’s personal guards. They were apparently in Spetsnatz, Russia and trained in the special forces. But am I surprised though?
All the mobs from around the world supply most of their guards from the special forces.
Once Spencer took a bullet for me when I were five and ever since then I’ve included them into our family which mum loved but dad didn’t want to share mum so you could say he was really that supportive.
Dante Ferrars
“Enjoying your day ladies?”
I almost gasp. Almost— WTF?
The fùck is Dante doing here?
I probably look like I saw a ghost and I’m sure that I probably did.
Dante Ferrars was my fiancé—emphasis on was.
Dante Ferrars
“Morning. Mrs.Volkov.”
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