10. Proposal Like a Threat
Proposal Like a Threat
Roman
Ido not kneel.
I do not beg.
And I do not ask for anything I am not prepared to take.
Vera stands across from me in the penthouse sitting room, sunlight cutting sharp lines through the glass behind her. She looks like she belongs in daylight—too steady for the shadows she’s standing in.
“There’s one way,” I repeat.
She crosses her arms.
“Say it.”
I hold her gaze.
“Marry me.”
The silence that follows is absolute.
Not shock.
Not hysteria.
Stillness.
Her lashes lower slightly as if she’s recalibrating the shape of the word.
“That’s not funny,” she says finally.
“I’m not joking.”
Her arms drop to her sides.
“You think putting a ring on my finger fixes this?”
“No.”
I step closer—not invading, just narrowing the distance.
“It reclassifies it.”
Her jaw tightens.
“Explain.”
“If you become Vera Koval,” I say evenly, “touching you becomes a declaration of war against my house. Not a provocation. Not a test. A war.”
She stares at me like I’ve suggested something obscene.
“I’m not a shield,” she snaps.
“You’re already a target.”
“I didn’t choose that.”
“You didn’t choose your last name either.”
The truth lands hard between us.
She hates it.
I continue before she can retreat into anger.
“Right now, you are contested territory,” I say. “Rizzi thinks you’re leverage. Angelo thinks you’re opportunity. The city thinks you’re vulnerable.”
“And marriage makes me what?” she demands.
“Untouchable.”
Her laugh is sharp.
“In your world, nothing is untouchable.”
“Wrong,” I say quietly. “Certain symbols are.”
Her eyes narrow.
“And I become your symbol?”
“You become my wife.”
She flinches at the word.
I don’t.
I let it sit between us.
“I don’t want your name,” she says.
“It would protect yours.”
“I don’t need protection like that.”
“You need permanence.”
Silence stretches.
I study her face carefully.
She is calculating now.
Good.
Emotion is useful only when guided.
“There’s a second purpose,” I say.
Her chin lifts.
“Of course there is.”
I don’t insult her by pretending otherwise.
“The leak that killed Luka did not originate where I thought.”
She stills slightly.
“It may be older,” I continue. “Deeper. Whoever orchestrated it benefits from instability between our families.”
“And you think marrying me flushes them out?”
“Yes.”
Her brow furrows.
“Why?”
“Because if you stand beside me publicly as Koval,” I say, “the architect of that leak loses control of the narrative. They’ll need to strike again.”
“Strike at who?”
“At the new queen.”
The word is deliberate.
She goes pale—not fragile, but furious.
“You want to paint a target on my back.”
“You already have one.”
“You want it bigger.”
“I want it visible.”
She steps closer, eyes blazing.
“You’re asking me to volunteer as bait.”
“I’m asking you to help me end this.”
Her voice drops, sharp as glass.
“You are a monster.”
I don’t deny it.
“I am a man who understands predators,” I reply.
“And you think becoming one makes you righteous?”
“No.”
“Then what does it make you?”
“Effective.”
Her breath trembles once before she steadies it.
“Marriage isn’t strategy,” she says. “It’s binding.”
“Yes.”
“And if I refuse?”
“You remain hunted.”
The words are not threat.
They are assessment.
Her eyes search mine for mockery.
She finds none.
“This isn’t romance,” she says.
“No.”
“It’s a trap.”
“Yes.”
“For who?”
“For anyone foolish enough to reach for you.”
The air between us tightens.
She studies me like she’s looking for cracks.
“You don’t even like me,” she says.
“That’s irrelevant.”
“Is it?”
“Yes.”
She steps so close now that I feel the heat of her body.
“You dragged me out of an alley,” she whispers. “You used me as leverage. You paraded me in a room full of predators. And now you want me to marry you.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
The question lands deeper than she realizes.
Because when they marked you, something inside me shifted.
Because I will not let another person die due to misplaced trust.
Because the thought of someone parading you on camera ignites something violent and irreversible in me.
But I don’t say any of that.
Instead, I answer the only way I know how.
“Because I will not lose another person to someone else’s betrayal.”
Her expression changes slightly at that.
Not softening.
Understanding.
“You think this makes me safer,” she says.
“It does.”
“You’d use our marriage as a weapon.”
“Yes.”
“And you’d use me to draw out the traitor.”
“Yes.”
She shakes her head slowly.
“You admit it so easily.”
“I don’t lie about war.”
Her eyes flash.
“This isn’t war to me. It’s my life.”
“And to me,” I say quietly, “it is both.”
Silence falls again.
The city hums beyond the glass.
If she refuses, I will find another method.
But none as efficient.
None as decisive.
“I won’t be owned,” she says again.
“You won’t,” I reply.
“You’ll expect obedience.”
“I expect partnership in strategy.”
“That’s not partnership.”
“It can be.”
She studies me carefully.
“You’d protect my clinic?” she asks.
“Yes.”
“You’d protect the neighborhood?”
“Yes.”
“You’d stand publicly and say this is your choice—not a forced alignment?”
“Yes.”
The truth is, once declared, I would have to.
Marriage is not reversible without blood in this world.
She searches my face.
“You don’t love me,” she says.
“No.”
“And you don’t pretend to.”
“No.”
“Then what are you offering?”
I hold her gaze without flinching.
“Protection with teeth.”
Her lips part slightly.
She looks furious.
Terrified.
Calculating.
And something else.
Something dangerously close to tempted.
“Say I agree,” she says slowly. “What happens?”
“We announce engagement immediately. Ceremony expedited. Security consolidated. Narrative seized.”
“And my father?”
“He will attend.”
Her breath catches.
“You’re forcing him.”
“I’m cornering him.”
“That’s not the same.”
“In this world, it is.”
She turns away briefly, pacing once toward the window.
I watch her reflection in the glass.
She looks small against the skyline.
And impossibly strong.
She turns back to me.
“If I marry you,” she says, voice steady again, “I become part of your empire.”
“Yes.”
“And if I don’t like what I see?”
“You will attempt to change it.”
A flicker of something crosses her face.
Hope.
Or challenge.
She steps forward again, stopping directly in front of me.
Her eyes meet mine without hesitation.
“If I agree…” she says slowly.
I wait.
She doesn’t look away.
“I set terms.”