Chapter 8 - Fyodor
The door closed behind the officiator with a soft, decisive click, filling the house with an uncomfortable silence.
It was not the heavy, charged quiet of anticipation but slightly different.
It felt like the silence that came with the aftermath.
The flowers still lined the hall like a grotesque parody of celebration.
White petals against dark wood, their scent clinging to the air, too sweet, too clean, too wrong for what had just happened.
She stood across from me, spine straight, chin lifted, eyes blazing.
Elisse Chernykh. My wife.
The word landed in my chest like a controlled detonation while I watched the realization move through her in waves. She was not shocked anymore and not confused either. Instead, I could see the rage she felt surface. Pure, incandescent rage.
“You’re a Romanov,” she said, her voice almost eerily calm.
“Yes.”
“Fyodor Romanov.”
“Yes.”
“So you knew who I was from the very beginning?”
“Yes.”
Her laugh was brittle, disbelieving. “Even at the masquerade? Was that a part of your sick plan as well?”
“No, not at the masquerade. I didn’t know who you were that night,” I continued evenly. “Not your last name. Not your family. Not your connection.”
“Convenient.”
“It’s the truth.”
“When did you find out?”
“After.”
“How?”
“My brother, Kliment, summoned me and gave me an order to dismantle the Chernykhs. He wants your empire to fall so Ilana can realize her mistake and come back as if breaking your family would somehow restore ours.”
A muscle in her cheek twitched.
“And where,” she asked coldly, “do I factor into this delusion?”
“You are the leverage Kliment wants.” The words landed exactly as intended, and her eyes flash.
“Leverage?” she repeated.
“Yes.”
A slow, lethal smile curved her lips. “Care to explain?”
“Kliment wanted pressure. Something personal. Something close enough to hurt, and he chose you.”
She stared at me for a long moment before laughing softly. The laughter wasn’t amused but rather bitter instead.
“Of course he did.”
“I didn’t know it was you when he first mentioned your name.”
“Stop saying that like it absolves you of the crime you just committed.”
“It doesn’t.”
Before I could realize what was happening, she moved towards me, her hand moving before I even saw it coming. The slap was harder this time, and my head turned slightly with the force of it, but I didn’t stop her and didn’t retaliate either. I let her hit me instead.
“You arrogant, manipulative, asshole,” Her voice cracked with fury. “You read about my life on paper and decided you had the right to rewrite it? Your brother told you he wanted me as leverage, and you decided to get up and force me to marry you?”
“I decided you weren’t going to be used, and the only way of stopping that from happening was marrying you.
I could have come to you, revealed my real identity, and explained the situation before marrying you as well, but I knew it wouldn’t change your decision.
The only way of making this happen was force, so I had no choice. ”
“You used me by marrying me under coercion.”
“I did no such thing.”
“You could have warned me,” she said, her voice trembling now, not with weakness, but with raw emotion. “You could have come to me like a human being.”
“And say what?” I asked calmly. “‘Hello, Elisse Chernykh, my brother wants to weaponize you, would you like to collaborate?’”
She shoved my chest.
“You don’t get to make that choice for me!”
“I already did.”
Her hand swung again, but this time I caught it, her wrist fitting easily in my palm. She tried to pull back, but I didn’t let her, holding her close.
“Let go of me.”
“No.”
Her other hand came up to strike, but I caught that one too, both her wrists held firmly in my grip.
“Fyodor,” she warned.
“You’re not thinking.”
“I’m thinking very clearly.”
“You’re reacting.”
“I am allowed to react! Especially after what just happened to me.”
“Yes, you are.”
She twisted against me, but I stepped forward instinctively, forcing her backward until her shoulders met the wall beside the desk. It was not violent but controlled instead as I pinned her wrists above her head. Her breathing suddenly became quick and furious.
“You don’t get to trap me,” she said through clenched teeth.
“You’re already trapped.”
Her eyes were blazing with unkempt anger.
“You think marrying me fixes this?”
“Yes.”
“Explain it to me,” she demanded. “Explain how all of this isn’t insanity.”
I held her gaze.
“Kliment believes destroying your family will bring Ilana back.”
“And you? What do you believe?”
“I know Ilana made her choice. She won’t return out of shame,” I continue. “She won’t return because of pressure. She loves who she chose.”
Elisse’s breathing steadies slightly.
“You sound almost… reasonable.”
“I am.”
“So why comply at all?”
“Because blood loyalty is not optional, and you understand that as well as I do. If I had refused, Kliment would have assigned you to someone else. Someone less conflicted. Someone without hesitation.”
“And that’s supposed to comfort me?”
“It should.”
Her laugh was sharp. “You’re delusional.”
“Marriage makes you untouchable.”
“Untouchable?” she scoffed. “Now I feel more exposed than ever.”
“No.” My voice lowered. “You are now Romanov by law, and Kliment can’t do anything to use you.”
Her eyes flickered.
“You cannot be taken without it becoming internal.” She understood that. I could see it in her eyes.
“They can’t kidnap you,” I continued. “They can’t torture you. They can’t use you publicly. Because you are now tied to me and I am tied to the Romanov name.”
Her jaw tightened.
“You tied me to the enemy, and you are forgetting that I don’t need you or anyone else to protect me or keep me safe. I can do that rather well myself.”
“I tied you to the only man in this family who doesn’t want you harmed.”
She went still at that.
“Don’t romanticize this.”
“I’m not.”
“Then what are you doing?”
“Containing damage.”
Her eyes searched my face.
“For someone so strategic,” she said slowly, “you made this very personal. You slept with me and kissed me and let me believe that you genuinely wanted me.”
“I didn’t know who you were.”
“And after?”
Afterward, it became impossible to detach. After, the file felt like a threat instead of an order. After, the idea of someone else touching her as leverage made something in me snap.
“I adjusted the plan,” I said evenly, and she stared at me like she wanted to tear me apart.
“You don’t get to decide that attraction equals consent,” she said.
“It doesn’t.”
“Then why kiss me like you still think you have that right?”
Because I do. The thought was dangerous, so I didn’t say it out loud but instead stepped closer, while still holding her wrists. Her breath caught in her throat.
“You felt it too, didn’t you?” I asked quietly.
“That’s irrelevant.”
“No, it isn’t.”
“Yes, it is.”
Her chest rose and fell rapidly, telling me that the anger still hadn’t left, but something else threaded through it. Something hotter.
“You kissed me at the masquerade just the way I kissed you,” I reminded her.
“I didn’t know who you were.”
“You still don’t.”
“I know enough.”
“Do you?”
“You think just because I wanted you once gives you some sort of ownership over me?”
“No.”
“Then stop acting like it.”
I study the fire and defiance shining in her face, which showed me her refusal to break. I could see why Kliment had chosen her, and I knew exactly why I couldn’t let him choose her.
“You’re mine now,” I said quietly, but the words were not uttered romantically. They are simply facts and make her breath stutter.
“Legally,” she snapped. “Not personally.”
“Legally is more than enough.”
She lunged forward suddenly, trying to knee me, but I shift, blocking it instinctively.
She used the movement to twist her wrists free only for a split second, before I catch her again, this time pressing her hands flat against the wall on either side of her head.
My body was close enough for her to feel the heat of it.
“Stop fighting me,” I murmured.
“Make me.”
Her chin lifted in challenge, and that’s the mistake, because I immediately lowered my mouth to hers.
It’s not gentle or hesitant; it's controlled aggression.
She gasped against my lips, resisting for just a heartbeat, before she finally kissed me back.
Just as fiercely, her anger visible through her mouth.
I could taste her hunger as her mouth moved against mine like she was trying to win something.
Her body arched instinctively, and for a split second, the war disappeared, and there was only heat.
The friction between the two of us and the undeniable pull that had existed since the ballroom.
My grip loosened slightly, and her hands slid down from the wall to my shoulders while she gripped me hard enough to leave a bruise.
The kiss deepened and turned reckless and dangerous, and I could feel the moment she forgot the anger and leaned into it completely.
But just then, she shoves me hard, and I stepped back at once, noticing her ragged breathing, swollen lips, and furious eyes, which were directed only at me.
“Don’t,” she said, but I didn’t move. “Don’t you dare use that.”
“I’m not using anything.”
“Yes, you are.” Her voice shook now, not from fear, but from fury at herself. “Attraction does not equal consent.”
The words cut cleanly while I held her gaze.
“I know.”
“Do you?” she demanded. “Because it felt as if you think chemistry excuses coercion.”
“It doesn’t.”
“Then stop.”
Silence settled between us again, thick and unresolved.
“You don’t get to blur the lines,” she said quietly. “You forced this marriage.”
“Yes.”
“You don’t get to force anything else.”
I nodded once. “I won’t.”
She studied my face carefully, searching for deception, but I knew she would not be able to find it. “You’re still a Romanov, and I’m still a Chernykh.”
“Yes.”
“So what exactly do you think this is?”
“A truce.”
She almost laughed again. “This isn’t a truce. This is a hostage situation with paperwork.”
“Call it what you want.”
“I will.”
Her shoulders rose and fell slowly as she steadied herself.
“You have ruined my life,” she said quietly.
“Only temporarily.”
Her head snapped toward me. “You’re unbelievable.”
“This is containment.”
“This is madness.”
“Maybe.”
She crossed her arms again, as if holding herself together.
“What happens now?” she asked, already thinking ahead.
“Now,” I said calmly, “we present unity.”
She let out a disbelieving breath. “You think I’m going to play along in this absurd game of yours? I am nothing but a hostage here, and I am not even going to pretend to act any other way.”
“You will have to play along.”
“And if I don’t?”
“You will.”
She turned fully to face me.
“Try to control me again,” she said softly, “and you’ll discover exactly how dangerous I can be.”
A slow, almost imperceptible smile touched my mouth.
“I’m counting on it.”
Her eyes narrowed.
“I don’t love you,” she said.
“I know.”
“And I definitely don’t even trust you.”
“I know.”
“And I will never forgive you.”
“I know.”
She stepped closer one last time.
“And if you ever try to force yourself on me again,” she said quietly, “Romanov or not, I will chop your dick off while you sleep.”
There it was, the line drawn clearly, and I inclined my head once and nodded even though I almost wanted to burst into laughter at her threat.
“Understood.”
The war outside these walls was inevitable for both of us, but inside them, the situation between us was something else entirely.
And for the first time since I made the decision, I understood exactly what I had done.
I didn’t just bind her legally to me, but I had tied myself to the only woman who refused to bend.
And I knew she was not going to make any of this easy on me.
Good.
I had never wanted easy anyway.