The Ice Queen Valentina's POV People think I wake up happy. If only they knew. I stood in front of the floor-to-ceiling mirror while Sofia fastened the zipper of my ivory silk dress. A diamond necklace rested against my collarbone, and matching earrings sparkled beneath my dark hair. I looked exactly like the woman every magazine loved to write about. Russia's Most Beautiful First Lady-to-Be. The Billionaire's Perfect Wife. The Ice Queen. I hated every one of those titles. "You're squeezing my waist too tight," I muttered. Sofia immediately loosened her grip. "I'm sorry, Madam." I glanced at her through the mirror. "You apologize too much." She lowered her head. "Old habits." In this house, everyone apologized. Even when they had done nothing wrong. Especially when they had done nothing wrong. I reached for a tube of lipstick and applied another coat. Perfect. Everything had to be perfect. Perfect women didn't cry. Perfect wives didn't co
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