Chapter 5
Liev
When the door to my office opens without a knock, I am halfway through a procurement report and already irritated.
I don’t look up at first, assuming it’s one of the engineers or a courier who forgot basic manners.
The room goes strangely quiet, and the indistinct murmur of voices from my team cut off like someone pulled a plug.
Five heads turn at once, including Kazimir’s, and the silence carries a weight that makes my pen still in my hand.
I glance up.
Ryder Moreno stands in my doorway like she owns the building.
For a second, I honestly think I imagine her.
She’s dressed simply: dark jeans and a fitted black sweater, nothing flashy, nothing that screams “cartel princess” or “bargaining chip” or “woman who could break your hyoid bone with a strategically placed punch.” Her hair is pulled back in a loose tie that makes her look younger than she is, but there’s nothing soft about the way she surveys the room.
Her gaze tracks exits, cameras, bodies, and threats.
She clocks everything in a single sweep.
Like a soldier. Like a thief.
Like a queen walking into enemy territory because she knows no one can stop her.
My pulse kicks once, hard and annoying.
“How,” I say slowly, “did you get in here?” Baranov Tech’s headquarters is heavily guarded, mostly because not everything that happens behind these walls is above-board business.
Her mouth curves.
“I copied three key cards, looped one hallway camera for ninety seconds, and guessed your elevator code on the second try,” she says lightly. “You should really stop using important dates. Birth years are lazy.”
Kazimir Baranov lets out a quiet huff that might be a laugh, crossing his legs in the chair he’s lounging in.
I stare at her.
Baranov Tech isn’t a corner store, but she makes it sound like one. It’s layered security, biometric scanners, rotating codes. My men couldn’t waltz in without clearance.
“You’re telling me you just walked past my guards,” I say.
She lifts one shoulder. “They’re very polite.”
A few of the engineers snort before quickly pretending they didn’t. Someone in the back corner sends a quick text; probably checking that the guards are still breathing.
Something hot and unwillingly impressed curls in my chest. Once again, she’s reminded me she isn’t just her daddy’s heir. Although Hinto doesn’t seem keen on handing over his empire to her.
No, Ryder Moreno was built to break systems.
She breaks me, too, apparently.
Her eyes sweep my office, and then, as dry as sandpaper, she says, “Smaller than I expected.”
Kaz outright laughs this time.
I glance around the room like I’m seeing it for the first time: the plain desk, steel shelving, one wall of monitors, no art, no marble, no gold nonsense. Functional and efficient.
“I prefer practical,” I say. “Big offices are for men who want to look important.” I ignore Kazimir’s pointed look; his office is quite a bit bigger than mine. Comfortable and luxurious.
She studies me. It irritates me that I care what she thinks. I must look old to her. Did Kaz take that into consideration when he and Hinto first talked this thing out? I’m almost two decades older than her?
I push to my feet. “Everyone out.”
The room empties fast. Papers are gathered, chairs scrape, doors shut.
Kaz stands, but he knows he isn’t included when I say, “everyone.” Especially since he was the one who had a hand in orchestrating this insane plan in the first place.
He moves to lean against the wall, arms crossed, watching like this is better than television.
Now it’s just us.
Ryder steps farther in, hands in her pockets, chin up. Up close, she’s distracting in a way that makes me angry at my biology. Her skin is a warm gold under the lights, and her mouth is full and stubborn. But her eyes are sharp enough to cut glass. Beautiful, yes, but not delicate.
I look away first, annoyed with myself.
“Just so you know,” Ryder quips, walking slowly around the room and messing with things here and there, “your south entrance has a two-minute lapse in guards. The younger one, he likes to take a cigarette break. Unsanctioned, of course.”
Kaz looks at me, then takes out his phone and sends a text. I’m sure it’s to Nika, asking him to check that information.
“Been happening for a few weeks now,” Ryder adds, watching under heavy lashes. “You’re welcome.”
“Well?” I ask, starting to lose my patience. “You didn’t break into the building to critique my square footage and point out weaknesses.”
For a moment, it looks like she’s going to bite back, but she doesn’t. She picks up a framed photo of my daughter, Alyona, and the twins just after they were born. Out of the hospital, but the three of them were exhausted, and the twins perpetually starving.
Ryder stares, blinks, and puts the frame down carefully. She exhales slowly. “I thought about what you said.”
My shoulders tighten. Kaz glances between us, curiosity furrowing his brow.
I told him about our conversation a few days ago, after Hinto sprung the trap on his daughter and Ryder ran.
I told him about the practical parts at least; not the way I’d watched her shatter in my hands, and prowl the room like a jaguar after.
“This marriage,” she continues, “is business. Nothing else.”
Nothing else. Good. Clean and simple, but something about it still makes my gut clench, even as I nod.
Then she adds, almost absentmindedly, “Which means we’re not… you know. Trapping each other. If either of us wants other people, it’s not a problem.”
Something in my head snaps.
Other people.
Other hands on her.
Other men looking at her the way I—
My jaw locks so hard it hurts. I picture some faceless idiot touching her waist and feel an immediate, violent urge to break bones.
Absolutely not.
I take a step forward before I can stop myself. “You’re my wife. No one—”
Kaz clears his throat sharply.
I glance at him. He gives me a look that says, shut up, you possessive idiot, take the deal.
“I’m not your wife yet,” Ryder reminds me dangerously. But there’s a glint of something in her brown eyes. It's amusement. I recognize it from that night on the boat, when she kept taking digs at me, raising my blood pressure.
Logic returns like cold water.
This is strategy, not jealousy. If it weren’t for Hinto and Kaz’s scheming, she’d be just another fantasy to fist myself to, a shadow disappearing in the night after we let her go.
I drag a hand down my face. “Yes,” I mutter. “Convenience. Only.”
Ryder watches me like she knows exactly where my brain went and finds it amusing.
“I’ll marry you,” she says.
Just like that.
No trembling. No dramatics.
Like signing a contract.
I nod once, because anything more would give me away.
But as she stands there in my small, practical office, having outsmarted security and challenged me to my face, all I can think is that this is going to be the most dangerous commitment of my life. And it’s not because of the war it could start outside these walls if anything goes wrong.
* * *
Within half an hour, everything is arranged with the quiet efficiency that follows Kazimir wherever he goes.
He made a few quick calls. I heard Devin’s laughter on at least one of them, so she must be at the house with my daughter and the twins.
I’m happy she decided to stay on even after everything that happened.
She’s been my daughter’s best friend for years, and now she’s a part of the Bratva family.
Phones are answered on the first ring. Doors that should be locked after business hours open without question.
A clerk who looks like she had already changed into slippers at home is suddenly back behind a desk with a stack of paperwork and a forced smile.
By the time we step out of the SUV, the whole thing feels less like a wedding and more like a transaction that the city itself has been bullied into facilitating.
The building sits in the heart of Savannah’s historic district; pale, powerful, and topped with gold.
Inside, the illusion fades fast. The air smells faintly of cleaning products and old paper.
The floors are scuffed tile that echo under our shoes as we walk down a corridor lined with bulletin boards and framed photographs of former mayors.
Fluorescent lights hum overhead, buzzing like tired insects.
This is where people register dogs. Pay parking tickets. File permits.
Tonight, apparently, it’ll be where I get married.
The absurdity of it presses against my ribs.
Kaz walks ahead with that calm, unbothered stride of his, already speaking quietly to someone in Russian.
Alyona keeps pace beside him, her hand looped through his arm, her gaze soft but observant.
Nika trails behind us, cracking his knuckles while Matvei and Devin follow like reluctant witnesses to a crime scene.
Ryder walks at my side, close enough that I can feel her warmth through the sleeve of my jacket. She hasn’t said a word since we left the office.
Her spine is straight, chin lifted, expression carved from stone. Anyone watching would think she’s perfectly composed, maybe even bored, like this is just another errand on her calendar.
I’ve seen men less steady walking into firefights. It unsettles me more than fear would have. A nervous bride, I could understand. This quiet resolve feels like something sharper.
We’re ushered into a small municipal chamber that’s meant for civil ceremonies.
The room feels stale with its beige walls.
There is a fake ficus in the corner next to an American flag drooping beside a state flag, and a folding table with a white cloth that doesn’t quite reach the floor.
The overhead lights wash everything flat and colorless.
I look at Ryder again, and the mismatch between her and this room hits me hard enough to make my jaw tighten.
She should have marble under her feet and music in the air. She should have a dress that makes a room fall silent when she steps inside. Something decadent and worthy of the way people already stare at her without meaning to.
Instead, she gets government carpeting, and a bored clerk with a rubber stamp.
Guilt creeps in, slow and sour.
You’re being ridiculous, I tell myself. This isn’t romance.
Still, the thought lingers.
For decades, I’ve built my life around necessity.
Around work. Around proving that the street rat everyone dismissed could claw his way to the top and stay there.
Every relationship I ever tried to have collapsed under the weight of that grind.
Or it turned out to be someone chasing the money and the name.
I stopped looking a long time ago.
I convinced myself that “real” wasn’t for men like me.
Real was for normal people who didn’t run ports, move contraband, and negotiate with criminals for breakfast.
Men like me got loyalty. Respect. Fear.
Not love.
Not a woman standing across from them, waiting to take their name.
And I’ve made my peace with that.
Or I thought I had.
Until her.
The clerk clears her throat and starts arranging the documents.
I lean closer to Ryder. “Do you want anyone here?”
She turns her head slightly. Her eyes are dark and unreadable. “No,” she says calmly. “No one I know deserves to be here.”
There’s something in her answer that makes my chest ache.
No family, no friends, no one she trusts enough to witness this.
I know that’s not entirely true—there’s her mother in Miami.
When this is done, I’ll meet her, and my chest swells with anticipation and nerves.
It’s as if I’m a young man hoping to impress all over again.
But in this moment, it’s just us. I nod once.
For a second, I want to tell her she deserves better than this room, better than this deal, better than me.
The words die before they reach my mouth.
She agreed. That’s enough.
The clerk starts the script, voice mechanical. My daughter, Alyona, stands next to Kazimir, looking a little stunned and a little emotional? I catch the glint of tears in her eyes and look away, feeling chastised. What Kaz and my daughter have is real; nothing like what is happening right now.
Devin, her best friend and now an employee of Kaz’s, watches hesitantly. She’s smart not to trust the Bratva way of doing things, even if she does take our money now. Any normal person would see how wrong this is and call it out, but Devin’s red lips stay pursed.
Matvei, a liaison between our syndicate and another Bratva leader up north, watches with sharp eyes and curiosity. If this works and this deal goes through, if this marriage happens—we’ll all profit from it, including his boss.
My mind drifts. The clerk drones on. I watch Ryder instead.
The way her hair falls loose around her shoulders. The clean line of her jaw. The quiet intelligence in her gaze as she listens to every word, like she’s evaluating a contract instead of a marriage.
She’s beautiful in a way that doesn’t beg for attention, and it’s distracting as hell.
I force myself to look away, then look back anyway.
Kaz catches me staring and gives me a look that says, ‘Behave.’
I ignore him. Ryder’s elbow catches me in the ribs, and I grunt. She’s already signed the document, signature precise and elegant. When I take the pen, my hand shakes.
“By the authority vested in me…” the clerk finishes.
And just like that, it’s done.
No music, no applause—just silence.
Ryder looks up at me, something flickering behind her composure. For a moment we stand too close, the air between us thick and electric, both of us pretending this is nothing more than business.
I think about stepping away and telling the clerk that there will be no kiss, no photos. Instead, I reach for her before I can stop myself.
My hand cups her jaw, thumb brushing her warm skin.
The second our mouths touch, heat surges through me, sharp and undeniable.
She inhales, fingers catching in my shirt.
A spark ignites between us, bright and dangerous. I realize with a sinking certainty that this is exactly the kind of thing I swore I’d never let myself want. From here on out, there’s no escaping Ryder Moreno.
She’s my wife.