Chapter 2
LUCA
She walks like she’s heading toward a firing squad.
I watch Anna Kestrel move down the short aisle between chairs filled with witnesses I’ve paid to be here.
Her posture is rigid, shoulders back, chin up.
Defiant even now. The black dress fits her well, shows off a figure that’s slim but curved in the right places.
Her hair is dark, almost black, pulled back from a face that’s younger than I expected.
Mid-twenties, maybe. Pale skin. Full mouth set in a hard line.
More beautiful in person, actually. I hadn’t anticipated that.
Not that it matters. Beauty doesn’t change the numbers in a ledger or the signatures on a contract. She’s a means to an end, and the end is Kestrel Maritime under my control after three years of work.
Viktor Kestrel made it easy. Overextended loans. Bad investments. A shipping route through the Baltic that cost him twice what it earned. I bought his debt from smaller creditors, consolidated it, then squeezed, until he had nowhere left to turn except to me.
And I offered him a deal. His daughter for his company.
He took it.
Anna reaches the altar and stops beside me. She’s tall for a woman, but I still have at least eight inches on her. She doesn’t look at me. Just stares straight ahead at the officiant like she can will this entire situation away through sheer force of stubbornness.
I’ve seen that look before. On men who thought they could negotiate their way out of debts they couldn’t pay. On rivals who believed they were untouchable. It never ends well for them.
The officiant clears his throat and begins speaking. Standard vows. Legal binding. Nothing romantic about it. Anna’s jaw tightens with every word, but she doesn’t move. Doesn’t protest. She agreed to this, and she’ll see it through because she has no other option.
Her parents sit in the front row. Svetlana is crying quietly. Viktor stares at the floor. They sold their daughter to save themselves, and they’ll live with that. I don’t care either way. Guilt is a currency I don’t deal in.
My son Maxim stands near the back, arms crossed, watching the proceedings with the detached interest of someone observing a business transaction that doesn’t involve him.
He’s thirty years old, sharp enough to run parts of my operation, but not ruthless enough to take over entirely.
Maxim met Anna briefly when she arrived.
He was polite and distant. Exactly as I instructed.
This marriage doesn’t threaten him. If anything, it consolidates my legitimate holdings and makes succession cleaner when the time comes.
The officiant asks Anna if she takes me as her husband.
She hesitates. Just a second, but I notice it. Then she says, “I do.”
Her voice is steady. No tremor. No tears. Just cold acceptance.
Good. I have no patience for hysterics.
When it’s my turn, I answer without hesitation. “I do.”
The officiant pronounces us married. There’s no kiss. No applause. Just a brief nod from the officiant and the rustle of witnesses shifting in their seats.
Done.
I look to Anna. “We’ll sign the remaining documents in my study after the reception.”
“There’s a reception?” Her voice is flat.
“Your parents arranged it. A small dinner. We’ll make an appearance, then leave.”
She finally looks at me. Blue eyes. Deep blue, almost startling against her pale skin and dark hair. There’s anger there, simmering just below the surface. She hates me. That’s fine. Hate is easier to manage than grief or fear. Hate is predictable.
“How long do we have to stay?” she asks.
“An hour. Two at most.”
“And then?”
“Then you move into my home with your children. We’ll consummate the marriage tonight to make it legally binding. After that, you’re free to avoid me as much as you’d like.”
Her mouth tightens. “You make it sound so romantic.”
“This isn’t a romance, Anna. It’s a contract. You fulfill your end, I fulfill mine. Your children will have security. Your parents keep their dignity. Everyone wins.”
“Except me.”
“You get a roof over your head, financial security, and protection for your family. That’s more than most people get in a marriage.”
She stares at me for a long moment, and I can see her working through responses in her head. Calculating what she can say without making this worse for herself. Smart. I appreciate that.
“Fine,” she says finally. “Let’s get this over with.”
She walks past me toward the reception hall without waiting for an escort. I watch her go, noting the stiffness in her spine, the way she doesn’t look back.
Pavel appears at my elbow. He’s been my second for fifteen years, handles logistics and enforcement. He’s also the one who vetted Anna before I made the final offer to Viktor.
“She’s taking it better than expected,” Pavel says quietly.
“She’s angry. She’ll stay angry for a while.”
“And the children?”
“They move in tomorrow. I’ve already arranged their rooms. Security will be doubled around the estate.”
Pavel nods. “Maxim asked if this changes the succession plan.”
“It doesn’t. He’s still my heir. The girl’s children don’t threaten that.”
“You’re sure?”
I glance at him. “Are you questioning my judgment?”
“No. Just making sure there are no surprises later.”
There won’t be. I’ve planned every detail of this acquisition down to the smallest variable.
Anna’s children are part of the package, collateral that kept Viktor from refusing outright.
Four-year-old twins. A boy and a girl with no father listed on their birth certificates.
Viktor was vague about the details; he said Anna refused to name the father.
Doesn’t matter. The children will be provided for because that was the agreement, but they’re not my concern beyond that.
Anna is my concern. She’s the key to Kestrel Maritime’s legal transfer. Once we’re married and the consolidation is complete, I’ll have control over one of the largest shipping networks in the region. The legitimate business that can absorb and clean money from less legitimate operations.
It took three years to engineer this. Three years of buying debt, applying pressure, eliminating other options. Viktor Kestrel thought he was negotiating. He wasn’t. He was drowning, and I was the only one offering a lifeline with conditions attached.
And now it’s done.
I follow Anna into the reception hall. She’s already at a table with her parents, posture rigid, hands folded in her lap. Svetlana is talking to her in a low voice. Viktor drinks whiskey like it’s water.
The room is small, with two dozen guests at most. Business associates who needed to witness this union. A few of Viktor’s remaining contacts. No one Anna would call a friend.
I take my seat at the head table beside her. She doesn’t acknowledge me.
Dinner is served. Roasted duck, glazed vegetables. Anna picks at her food. Doesn’t drink. Doesn’t speak unless someone addresses her directly.
Svetlana tries to make conversation. Something about the flowers, how beautiful everything looks. Anna responds with one-word answers that kill the exchange before it can go anywhere. Viktor doesn’t even try. He stares at his plate like he’s cataloging every mistake that led him here.
I eat in silence. This isn’t a celebration. It’s a formality. A public acknowledgment that the Kestrel family is now bound to mine, that their assets are protected under my name, and that any enemies they had are now my problem.
And I have no shortage of enemies.
Halfway through the meal, Maxim approaches the table. He leans down, speaks quietly near my ear. “Dmitri sent a message. He wants to meet next week about the shipment routes.”
“Tell him Tuesday. Not before.”
“He’s pushing for sooner.”
“Then he can wait.” I don’t look up from my plate. “Anything else?”
“Just checking if you need me to stay for the rest of this.”
“No. You’re free to go.”
Maxim nods and leaves without saying goodbye to anyone else. He’s good at reading situations, knows when his presence is required and when it’s just ceremonial.
Anna watches him leave, then turns to me. “That’s your son.”
“Yes.”
“How old is he?”
“Thirty.”
She does the math in her head. I can see it on her face. “You got married young.”
“I didn’t marry his mother.” I cut into the duck on my plate. “She died when he was six.”
Anna’s expression doesn’t change. “I see.”
“Does that bother you?”
“Why would it bother me? This isn’t a real marriage.”
“No. It’s not.”
She picks up her wineglass, takes a small sip, then sets it back down. “How long do we have to stay here?”
I check my watch. “Another forty minutes.”
“Then what?”
“Then we go home. Your children will be brought to the estate tomorrow morning. Tonight, we handle the legal requirements.”
Her fingers tighten around the stem of her wineglass. “You mean sex.”
“Yes.”
“And if I refuse?”
“The marriage isn’t legally binding without consummation. Your parents’ debt becomes enforceable immediately. Viktor loses everything.”
She stares at me. I can see the hatred in her eyes, sharp and bright. “You really are a monster.”
“I’m a businessman. There’s a difference.”
“Not from where I’m sitting.”
“Then sit somewhere else.”
She doesn’t respond. Just turns her attention back to her untouched plate and the reception that feels more like a funeral.
I finish my meal and wait. Time moves slowly when you’re watching someone come to terms with the life they’ve been forced into. But I’m patient. I’ve waited three years for this. I can wait another forty minutes.
When the time is up, I stand. Anna looks at me, and I offer her my hand.
“Ready?” I ask.