Kirill was running late. It was already eight o’clock, and he hadn’t bought flowers, chosen a gift, or even changed his clothes. His mother, Svetlana Eduardovna Krasilnikova, was celebrating her birthday at the family’s luxurious country house, and it was expected to be another one of those family gatherings filled with business partners, journalists, and his mother’s ever-enthusiastic matchmakers.
Kirill dreaded these gatherings, where questions about his marriage and heirs seemed inevitable. He had long been the target of well-meaning but intrusive aunts, girlfriends, and family friends all eager to secure him a suitable bride. The attention now shifted to him, as his younger sister, Camilla, was happily dating the son of a publisher, Eremov, leaving her out of the matchmaking scene for the time being.
He couldn’t skip the event. Missing his mother’s birthday would surely bring her lasting resentment, so he hastily made his way to a small flower shop near the central market. The shop wasn’t the kind of place he usually frequented, but time was running out.
Entering the small store, he found it empty. He called out, “Is anyone here?” His voice was louder than he intended, and he winced at his tone. Normally, he never spoke this way.
Then, a girl emerged from the back room, dressed in a simple dark blue robe. “Why are you shouting like you’re at a bazaar? Couldn’t you wait?” she snapped.
Kirill was taken aback, not used to such bluntness. “Why should I wait?” he retorted. “Your job is to serve customers. I can go to another shop if I want.”
“Then go, what’s the point of yelling?” she shrugged nonchalantly.
He stood there, momentarily stunned. “Okay, fine. But I’m in a hurry. I need flowers for a middle-aged woman, elegant and sophisticated. It’s for my mother’s birthday.”
“How old is she?” the girl asked matter-of-factly.
“I don’t know,” Kirill said, feeling awkward. “She hides her age. I don’t even think she knows.”
The girl let out a small laugh. “My grandmother couldn’t remember her age either. We used to say she was sixteen, but she was almost seventy.”
Kirill frowned, his patience waning. “What does your grandmother have to do with this? My mother is beautiful and doesn’t want to age. I need roses.”
“Roses, okay.” The girl hesitated, then looked at him curiously. “I’m not a florist, though. I’m just covering for Antonina. She’s sick, so I’m looking after the shop.”
He was taken aback. “You’re a cleaner?”
“Yeah. I don’t know how to make bouquets,” she said with a shrug. “But I can at least tie them together with a ribbon. Will that work?”
Kirill felt a strange mix of disbelief and amusement. He watched as she began arranging the roses with surprising skill, her slender fingers moving with precision. Despite her simple dress and no-nonsense attitude, there was something striking about her. Her natural beauty, flawless skin, and confident posture made her seem effortlessly elegant.
He found himself admiring her. “What’s your name?” he asked.
“Liza. Liza Snezhina.”
“A beautiful name,” Kirill commented, almost absentmindedly.
As she handed him the bouquet, Kirill’s mind raced. There was an idea forming. He knew that tonight’s dinner would be filled with judgmental eyes, and Liza’s beauty, unassuming yet striking, could be the perfect tool to provoke the response he was looking for. The women at his mother’s dinner would be so distracted by Liza’s grace, they wouldn’t notice the tension between him and his mother.
“Would you like to join me for dinner tonight?” he asked, surprising himself.
Liza paused. “You want me to come to your mother’s birthday?” she asked, incredulous.
“Yes. I could use someone who’s not interested in the usual matchmaking game. Besides,” Kirill added with a smirk, “I think you’d make quite the impression.”
Liza raised an eyebrow but then smiled, a glint of amusement in her eyes. “Fine, I’ll come. But don’t think I’m doing this for you.”
As they walked together toward the door, Kirill realized something he hadn’t expected. Liza wasn’t just a beautiful face. She had an air of mystery, an unspoken depth, and a quiet strength that made her stand out. And in the midst of his family’s rehearsed elegance, she would be the perfect disruption.
As they approached the country house, Kirill’s thoughts ran wild. He was about to unleash chaos. And he wasn’t sure whether it would end in laughter or tears—but tonight, at least, he would be in control.