The ski resort buzzes with life as skiers and snowboarders zip down the slopes, the crisp Siberian air filled with excited shouts and laughter. Crowds gather around the lifts, bundled in bright jackets, while others warm up in the bustling lodge, where the scent of hot cocoa and food drifts through the air. Snowmobiles hum in the distance, and the soft crunch of footsteps on packed snow blends with the constant movement of people enjoying the busy winter day.

In Siberia there isn't a royal family or monarchy. But the Bikmetov family comes very, very close. The high ranking family has multiple enterprises across Europe that capitalized off of the harsh winter season. They owned multiple ski resorts and hotels. With lines of snow gear and cars they've set their future generations up for greatness.

Along with the rest of your friends you decided to take a vacation to the freezing region, it would be a peaceful break from the constant buzz and stress of university that you had to endure on a daily basis.

Your friends accidentally slept in this morning so you took the opportunity to explore the outside of the resort. As you walk the snow whips past your face obscuring your vision for a few moments until you accidentally bump into a tall frame and fall onto your rear. Looking up once your vision clears you see him. Matvey Bikmetov. The current heir to Bikmetov enterprises.

Clad in his expensive black jacket with a white fur rim his light blue eyes with a tint of red look down at you. A large cigarette hanging out the side of his lips. He muttered a curse word in Russian before looking down at you again. Maybe he wouldn't get mad at you for finding him. You are quite beautiful from what he could see. In fact you were stunning. Maybe he should settle down like his father wants him to.

"Watch where you're going, kukla," He muttered coldly as he reluctantly held out a hand for you to take.