Chapter 9 - Wyatt
I’ve done a lot of things I’m not proud of, but this…I don’t like this.
The thought has been grinding in my skull on a loop for several days now, and it only seems to grow sharper each time I look at her.
Elena Lukov is my wife on paper, and the most inconvenient complication I’ve added to my life since the day I chose to fake my own death.
Everything I do, I do it for Lily. At least, that’s the justification I keep reaching for.
I keep recalling what Patch said, and how she’s good leverage. Protection, even, regardless of how twisted.
She’s the key to getting me close enough to the Lukovs to pull Lily out of there.
I know all that, and I still hate how I’ve gone about it.
Forcing marriage on anyone, especially someone like Elena, cuts through the lines I’ve carved for myself years ago, and ones I’ve sworn I’d never cross. I’ve always told myself that the unsavory things I’ve done were necessary evils. They were strategic and as clean as possible.
But this wasn’t clean, and yet, I have her with me.
She’s staying. That part isn’t negotiable until I have my sister back and a clean exit planned for Elena.
Really, it would be an easy trade. Elena for Lily. Done and done.
Yet, every time I think about making that exchange, my irritation flares at the very concept of handing Elena over to anyone. Even if it’s a deal that gives me exactly what I’ve been wanting all along.
It doesn’t make any sense. I barely know Elena, and I’ve put my heart and soul into recovering my sister. I built an entire second life just to keep her alive, and to one day return in whatever way I can.
The idea of letting Elena go leaves a raw feeling in my chest, and I can’t make sense of it. I don’t have any answers for myself, even if I hate unanswered questions.
So I bury it and push forward like I normally do. It’s not like the city would give me time to dwell on it anyway.
Every day since the ambush feels more like navigating a minefield with Elena right behind me. I move constantly, switching routes, changing vehicles, and safe houses, and every questionable figure gets a second look.
The Balakins have been relatively still ever since Yuri was locked up by Lukovs, and the Grimaldis are regrouping, preparing themselves for a manhunt. And Elena’s brothers are patient predators when they can be, but I know they’ll be scouring, waiting for the smallest crack to open.
I’m banking on the fact that Elena lives a life outside of the business her family conducts, and maybe the odd few days without making contact isn’t out of the norm. It buys me time, at least.
But, with everyone having skin in the game, I can’t let Elena out of my sight.
She goes everywhere with me now, and she hates it.
It’s obvious in the way her jaw tightens every time I tell her to get ready, along with the sharp glances she throws at me when I hand her another disguise—wigs, a hat she would never choose to wear, scarves, and sunglasses to cover her eyes.
Whatever keeps her hair tucked away, and her face partially obscured.
She doesn’t like meshing into my routine, and she certainly doesn’t like that her life has been sucked into my orbit.
I get it, but it doesn’t change anything. This is necessary.
To anyone watching, she’s just another woman walking a half step behind her partner. Nothing unusual.
And of course, they don’t know who I am, and that’s how it needs to be.
She nearly explodes the first day I take her with me to work, jaw clenched as I escort her into the less-than-glamorous office space.
Really, it’s just a front. A legitimate investment firm stacked on top of less legitimate dealings doesn’t make anyone bat an eye, especially not when I keep it clean and boring.
“You can’t be serious,” Elena utters, glancing around the space.
“I am.”
“I have a job. A life,” she returns, tone terse. “You can’t just haul me around like a service dog.”
“Well, if you feel like pitching in, then be my guest,” I murmur, earning myself an irritated glare from her. Then I sigh and shed my jacket. “Like it or not, this is your job today.”
“You don’t get to decide that.”
“I already did,” I say, gesturing to the love seat shoved against the one wall. “Get comfortable.”
Elena’s stare is hot enough to burn, and her arms cross tightly over her chest. “You’re unbelievable.”
“Get used to it.”
Not bothering to hide her disdain, she mumbles something under her breath as she sits down, refusing to look at me while I get to work.
After a while of biding her time, Elena eventually gets bored enough to complain about it, so I give her a laptop.
She taps away furiously in the conference room across the hall, and while I have access to her screen from mine, I watch the various insults she types out for me in a word processor, feeling both irritation and amusement from it.
I could tell her to show some respect and put her in her place, but I don’t. I’ve already learned quickly that trying to divert her anger only feeds it, and it’s better to give her space when she needs it.
She spends the rest of the afternoon lying on the couch, eyes closed, while she apparently tunes out the rest of the world. By the time evening rolls around, I can still feel how tense and stuffy the office space is.
We’ve hardly spoken to each other all day, and I know being forced to go along with me is getting under her skin.
Which is why I take her out to eat before heading home.
The diner is quiet, tucked away on a side street that’s modest enough not to attract any unwanted attention. We sit in a corner booth, with Elena’s hair tucked under a beanie and a pair of oversized sunglasses on. Her neutral clothes help her blend in.
She looks over the menu with disinterest, even though I heard her stomach growling throughout the drive here.
“You do realize this is a terrible idea, right?” She asks, not looking at me.
“What, eating?”
“Being out in public,” Elena mutters, like I’ve just said the dumbest thing in the world. “You keep mentioning how my brothers don’t know who you are, but that doesn’t make you invisible. Cameras exist literally everywhere.”
“It’s hard to place someone you’ve never seen before. I think I’m just fine.”
“And what if they recognise me?”
“They won’t,” I say calmly, glancing between her and the laminated menu. “You don’t look like yourself.”
She huffs out a breath, vaguely annoyed. “This is ridiculous…if you were smart, you’d be hiding. Not going to greasy diners.”
“Hiding doesn’t get you anywhere,” I murmur, not giving in to her slight petulance. “And the grease is better than nothing when your stomach sounds like it’s seconds away from consuming itself. Or are you too good for a place like this?”
Her eyes narrow at that, obviously not appreciating my poking. “Shut up…it’s fine.”
“Good.”
For a moment, we both go quiet as we browse the menu, but I still feel her gaze flickering up to me occasionally.
Then, almost like she can’t help herself, Elena takes a breath. “Why are you doing this?”
I don’t flinch at the question. “Because I need to keep an eye on you.”
“And how does dinner accomplish that?”
“Simple. It keeps you fed and visible to me,” I say, meeting her gaze.
She studies me, and something unreadable moves through her eyes, almost like she’s trying to determine if my tending to her needs is more self-serving than anything else. “You could’ve just ordered in.”
“Yeah, I could’ve,” I agree.
“But you didn’t.”
“No, I didn’t.”
Her eyes narrow again. “Why?”
When I don’t answer, she notices and scoffs with a shake of her head, finally dropping it. “Whatever.”
After ordering with the waitress, we wait in relative silence, and the food eventually arrives. Even if the quiet stretches, it isn’t sharp or hostile. In a way, it starts to feel almost normal, like Elena is falling into a rhythm with me that she doesn’t even notice yet.
It’s almost unsettling.
Then, halfway through the meal, Elena takes a sip of her drink and looks at me. “We need to talk.”
Raising a brow at that, caught off guard by her sudden conviction, I hold back the urge to chuckle at her audacity. “Do we?”
“Yes,” she says without hesitation, lifting her chin just enough to be noticeable. “I have expectations.”
I consider what that could mean, still taken aback, but I lean back in the booth and cross my arms. “This should be good.”
Elena shoots me a look. “I’m serious.”
“I can tell.”
She straightens her back, almost like assuming her usual poised posture.
She’s the picture of control now, as if the Lukov genes have slid back into place again while she threads her fingers together against the table.
“Regardless of whatever arrangement you think we’re in, there are things I won’t tolerate. ”
Holding her gaze, I sigh to myself and gesture vaguely towards her. “Go on.”
“First, you don’t touch me without permission,” she says, straight to the point. “Not in private, and not in public either.”
“That’s already the case.”
She gives me a scrutinizing look. “Is it?”
“Yes.”
“Then stop looming every time we go somewhere,” she utters before pulling in another breath and continuing. “You also can’t threaten me just to get compliance, you don’t get to use my family against me, and you can’t lie to me.”
“That’s a tall order.”
Her eyes narrow again, silently scolding me to be serious. “Wyatt.”
The way she says my name, sharp but with more conviction than usual, catches me off guard. I sigh. “Fine. Within reason.”
She holds my gaze, likely gauging how truthful I’m being, then she relaxes her shoulders just a tad. “I also need clothes of my own and things to keep me occupied. I’m not sitting idly in your office all day waiting for you to be done.”
It’s my turn to study her now, considering these demands of hers. Just to get under her skin, I let the moment drag, even though my mind is already made up.
Finally, I give her a conceding nod. “Done.”
“That’s it?”
“That’s it. I’m more accommodating than you might think,” I murmur, finding myself enjoying sitting across from her more than I thought I would, able to take her in.
Elena searches my face, as if looking for some kind of hidden deceit, obviously hesitant to believe me. “And in return?”
“In return,” I begin, words coming out simple and to the point. “You don’t try to run. You cooperate.”
She gives me a hollowed-out version of amusement. “I knew you were going to say that.”
“Besides, you wouldn’t make it far anyway. It would just complicate things.”
“For you?”
“For both of us,” I correct, not sugar-coating things.
Elena considers it for a moment, then she reluctantly nods once. “Fine.”
I don’t expect her to be so willing to comply, and it certainly throws me for a loop, but I school my expression. Then, I start to crack at the edges, and I huff out a quiet laugh before I can stop it.
Elena notices, expression dropping slightly before frowning. “What?”
“You’re negotiating terms with a man you assume is a monster,” I say, not so quick to push away the humor in it. “It’s impressive and bold.”
“I’m used to men like you,” she replies coolly, acting unfazed by it. “You’re not special.”
That should sting, but I find it amusing instead.
Even if I should be more serious and cautious given all the heat on me, I know this isn’t forever. It can’t be.
I’ll get Lily back, dismantle Vito and the Grimaldis, then I’ll disappear again, leaving Elena free, furious, and alive.
That’s the plan.
And yet, a part of me is already dreading that ending.