Leon
She stares at me like I've lost my mind.
The words are still hanging in the air between us.
You just became my wife.
I'm already calculating the logistics. Marriage license. Documentation. Timeline. How long it might take to get her pregnant. How to keep her contained until she understands there's no way out of this.
It's a procurement problem. That's all. I've handled more complicated acquisitions.
"I'm not your wife," she says finally, her voice shaking but defiant. "You can't just... you can't just say that and make it true."
"I can." I set my phone down again, giving her my full attention. "I just did."
"That's insane."
"It's practical." I move around the desk, and she takes an instinctive step back. "You saw an arms deal. You can identify Valentin, his men, the merchandise, me. Any court in the country would consider you a material witness."
"I know how to keep my mouth shut," she growls from between gritted teeth.
"It doesn't matter what you say." I keep my voice level, reasonable.
The same tone I use when explaining business terms to someone who doesn't understand the stakes.
"Valentin will assume you're a threat. He'll send people to eliminate that threat.
Maybe not tonight. Maybe not tomorrow. But it will happen. "
She wraps her arms tighter around herself. The gesture makes her look smaller, younger. Vulnerable in a way that does something strange to my pulse.
I ignore it.
"The only thing protecting you right now is the claim I made downstairs," I continue.
"As long as everyone believes you're my wife, you're untouchable. Killing a Dubovich wife would start a war. Valentin knows that. Everybody knows that. Plus, there are enough rumors going around about my uncle’s orders, so that will add to our cover. "
I tell myself this is just strategy. Damage control.
A clean solution to a messy variable. But my eyes keep drifting to the way her chest rises too fast beneath that black dress, to the tremor in her hands she’s trying and failing to hide, and something shifts low in my gut that has nothing to do with logistics.
She’s terrified, furious, stubbornly holding herself together, and I feel it like a pull under my skin. I’ve spent years selecting women to meet my needs. Sexy. Adventurous in bed. Temporary. None of them ever made my pulse change.
Florrie does. She looks at me like she hates me and needs me in equal measure, and the realization is hard and unwelcome: following my uncle’s orders might not be the burden I thought it would be.
If this is the woman fate drops into my lap, then fine. I’ll take her. I’ll protect her. I’ll make her mine in every way that matters, and God help anyone who tries to touch what I’ve already decided belongs to me.
"I understand you lied to save me—" Her voice is low, even, as her eyes search mine, "and thank you for that. But now that they're gone, you can just... let me go. I'll disappear. Leave the city. Change my name. Whatever you—"
"No."
The word comes out harder than I intend, and she flinches.
"What do you mean, no?" Her voice is high in pitch but seems quiet, like she is losing the grip on her calm and panic is about to take over.
"I mean, you're not leaving." I lean against the edge of the desk, crossing my arms. "Valentin's suspicious. He didn't believe the wife story, not completely. If you disappear now, he'll know it was a lie. He'll come after you anyway, and this time I won't be there to save you."
"Then what am I supposed to do?" Her voice cracks slightly. "Just... stay here? Pretend to be married to you?"
"We’re not pretending anything. I’ve already got the paperwork being drawn up."
She laughs. It's a desperate, slightly hysterical sound. "You're out of your mind. I have a life. A job. An apartment. I can't just disappear because you decided—"
"Your life was forfeit the moment you walked through that door." I make sure my words are cold and final. "The woman you were half an hour ago? She's gone. The only question now is whether you want to survive as someone new or have your body dumped in the river."
Her face goes pale. "You're serious."
"Absolutely."
She's quiet for a long moment, and I watch her process it. The fear, the anger, the slow creeping realization that I'm not bluffing. That there's no easy way out of this.
Finally, she lifts her chin. "And what do you get out of this?"
I pull my phone out again, pulling up Vitali's message. Charlotte's pregnant. Early days. Thought you should know.
I stare at the message for a second longer than necessary, then lock the screen and slide the phone back into my pocket.
What do I get out of this?
I don’t answer her right away. Instead, I study her.
The way she’s standing there trying to look brave while everything inside her is clearly unraveling.
The way her mouth tightens like she refuses to beg.
The way her fingers curl into the hem of her jacket like it’s the only thing anchoring her to the floor.
Most women would already be crying.
Florrie isn’t.
That’s what strikes me the hardest. That she isn’t buckling beneath fear and panic, despite her clearly feeling those things.
“My uncle wants heirs,” I say finally. I don’t soften it. There’s no point. “He wants stability. Bloodlines. Public legitimacy.” I shrug. “You walked into the middle of that timeline.”
Her eyes flicker. “So, this is… what. Convenient?”
“Yes.” I push away from the desk and take a step toward her.
She doesn’t retreat this time, there’s no where for her to go.
“But convenience doesn’t explain why I haven’t already handed you off to a driver and told you to pack a bag.
Convenience doesn’t explain why I’m standing here deciding how your life is going to look for the next eighteen years. ”
Her breath stutters and neither of us misses it.
I’ve spent my entire adult life avoiding permanence. Women came and went. Beds were warm, then empty. Everything was temporary by design. No attachments. No weaknesses. That was the rule.
But looking at her now, shaken and stubborn and brave in the wrong place at the wrong time, I feel something come to rest beneath my ribs with unsettling certainty.
Maybe it’s time.
Maybe I’ve run out of excuses.
My brothers are already falling in line. Vitali’s done his duty. Avros is burning himself alive over it. Zakhar will be forced one way or another. The legacy is moving forward whether I like it or not.
And standing in front of me is a woman who doesn’t know it yet, but who fits into this future with terrifying ease.
I step closer until she has to tilt her head to look at me.
“You don’t get out of this,” I tell her quietly. “You don’t disappear. You don’t run. You stay with me.”
Her throat bobs.
“This won’t be a fling, Florrie. It won’t be a night gone wrong.” My voice drops, rougher than before. “If I do this, I do it properly. Marriage. Protection. A home. My name on yours. My child growing inside you.”
Her eyes widen.
The words feel bigger than I expected. But they also feel right.
I’ve built empires with my family. I’ve ended wars before they started. I’ve buried men without losing sleep.
Settling down was never part of the plan, until now.