35. Erik
ERIK
I stride into the conference room, still feeling the ghost of Katarina's lips on mine and the warmth of her body against my chest. The taste of her lingers, making it hard to focus on anything else.
But the atmosphere in the room snaps me back to reality fast.
Nikolai sits at the head of the table, his face carved from stone.
Sofia perches beside him, her usually composed features tight with worry.
Dmitri leans back in his chair, but his casual posture doesn't hide the tension radiating from his frame.
Alexi sprawls across from them, his wounded arm in a sling, fingers drumming an agitated rhythm against the polished wood.
“What's happened?” I ask, taking my usual seat.
Nikolai's steel-gray eyes lock onto mine. “Igor lost his fucking mind last night.”
“Define 'lost his mind,'” I say, though the sinking feeling in my gut tells me I won't like the answer.
“Three locations. Gone.” Dmitri's voice carries barely controlled fury. “The warehouse on Fifth Street, the laundromat downtown, and the club on Meridian.”
My blood goes cold. “Casualties?”
“Seven of our people,” Alexi says, his usual humor completely absent. “Including Marcus from the warehouse crew. Poor bastard was just doing inventory.”
“Igor used military-grade explosives,” Nikolai adds. “This wasn't some sloppy revenge job.”
I run a hand through my hair, the euphoria from moments ago evaporating completely. “Fuck.”
“That's putting it mildly,” Nikolai says. “He coordinated the hits within twenty minutes of each other. Professional. Efficient. And completely unhinged.”
“He's trying to draw us out,” Dmitri observes. “Make us respond emotionally instead of strategically.”
“Well, it's working,” Alexi mutters, wincing as he shifts in his chair. “I want to put a bullet in his skull.”
Nikolai's gaze shifts back to me, and I see the question in his eyes before he voices it. “This escalation is because you took his daughter, Erik. Igor sees this as a declaration of war.”
The weight of that statement settles over me like a lead blanket. Seven people dead because I couldn't walk away from Katarina. Because I chose her over everything else.
“He started this when he tried to force her into that marriage,” I say, my voice harder than steel. “I just finished it.”
“The question is,” Sofia says, her tone carefully neutral, “what comes next?”
“Igor will only back down if we return Katarina,” I say, the words tasting like ash in my mouth. “That's what he really wants.”
The silence stretches across the room like a taut wire.
“Over my dead body,” I add quickly before anyone can agree with that assessment.
Alexi shifts forward, his good arm bracing against the table. “There might be another angle here.”
“Speak,” Nikolai commands.
“Marriage,” Alexi says simply. “Erik marries Katarina. That gives Igor a new alliance.”
The room goes dead quiet. Sofia's eyebrows shoot up. Dmitri stops his casual drumming against his chair. Even Nikolai's mask slips for a fleeting moment.
“You want me to marry her?” I ask, though my heart hammers against my ribs.
“Think about it,” Alexi continues, warming to his idea. “Igor wanted to marry her off for a power advantage anyway. This way, he gets an alliance with us instead of the Petrovs. Stronger family, better positioning.”
“The man just blew up three of our locations,” Dmitri points out dryly. “You think he's going to welcome Erik with open arms?”
“It would be uneasy at first,” Alexi admits. “But Igor's a businessman above everything else. He understands profit and loss. Right now, he will be hemorrhaging resources. A marriage alliance stops the bleeding.”
I stare at my youngest brother, trying to process what he's suggesting. Marriage. To Katarina. The woman I just confessed my love to.
“It's not the worst idea,” Sofia says slowly. “From a strategic standpoint.”
“Strategic standpoint,” I repeat, testing the words. “What about what Katarina wants?”
“She chose you over Petrov,” Alexi reminds me. “Hell, she chose you over her own father. That has to count for something.”
Nikolai drums his fingers against the table, his expression calculating. “It would legitimize your claim to her. Make it harder for Igor to justify taking her back by force.”
“And if Igor refuses the alliance?” I ask.
“Then we're exactly where we are now,” Dmitri says with a shrug. “Except Katarina has legal protection as your wife.”
Wife.
The word echoes in my head, and something shifts deep in my chest. Something I never expected to feel.
I've always been the brother who'd never settle down. While Nikolai built his empire and Dmitri charmed his way through boardrooms, I stayed in the shadows. Alone. Comfortable in my solitude, never needing anyone beyond my family.
Marriage was something I watched happen to other people. Something that made men weak and distracted. Something that got in the way of the mission.
But sitting here, imagining Katarina as my wife...
“Erik?” Sofia's voice cuts through my thoughts.
I realize I've been silent for too long, my brothers watching me with varying degrees of curiosity and concern.
“It's not just strategy,” I say finally, my voice rougher than intended. “I want her to be mine. Completely.”
Alexi grins despite his injury. “There's the romantic I knew was hiding under all that tactical gear.”
“This isn't romance,” I snap, though even as I say it, I know it's a lie. “This is possession. Protection.”
“Call it whatever makes you sleep better at night,” Dmitri says with amusement. “But you're talking about marriage, not a business contract.”
Nikolai leans forward, his steel gaze fixed on me. “Are you certain about this, Erik? Marriage isn't something you can walk away from when it gets complicated.”
“Nothing about Katarina has been simple since the moment I met her,” I admit. “But I've never been more certain of anything in my life.”
The truth of that statement hits me like a physical blow. I've spent my entire adult life avoiding emotional entanglements, keeping everyone at arm's length except for my brothers. Even with them, I maintain careful distance.
But Katarina...
She's already under my skin, in my blood. The thought of her belonging to someone else makes violence surge through my veins. The idea of her carrying my name, sharing my bed every night, being mine in every way that matters...
“She hasn't agreed to any of this,” Sofia points out gently. “You might want to ask her opinion before planning the wedding.”
“She loves me,” I say, the words still foreign on my tongue. “She told me.”
“Love and marriage are different things,” Sofia continues. “Especially in our world.”
The confidence I felt moments ago evaporates like smoke. My hands clench into fists on the table as the reality of what I'm proposing crashes over me.
“What if she says no?”
The words escape before I can stop them, and I immediately want to take them back. But they hang in the air, exposing a vulnerability I rarely show anyone.
“She might not want marriage,” I continue, my voice tight. “She's spent her whole life fighting for independence. Her father just tried to force her into an arranged marriage. The last thing she might want is another man telling her what to do.”
Alexi winces. “Shit. You're right.”
“She could see it as just another cage,” I say, the thought making my stomach twist. “Another way for a man to control her life.”
Sofia's expression softens with understanding. “Erik?—”
“And if she refuses?” I cut her off, the worst-case scenario playing out in my mind. “If she says no, then what? Igor won't stop coming for her. The Petrovs will see her as an insult to their family's honor. She'll be a target for the rest of her life.”
My breathing gets shallow as I think about all the ways this could go wrong. “She could run. Disappear. Use that brilliant mind of hers to vanish completely, and I'd never see her again.”
The possibility feels like a blade between my ribs.
“I can't force her,” I say, hating how helpless I sound. “Not after what her father put her through. I can't be another man who takes away her choices.”
Nikolai's cold gaze fixes on me with laser intensity. “Are you going soft, Erik?”
The question hits like a slap. “What?”
“Going soft,” he repeats, his voice carrying that dangerous edge that makes enemies wet themselves. “Because last I checked, Ivanovs don't take no for an answer.”
“This is different?—”
“Is it?” Nikolai leans forward. “You love her. You want her. You need her safe. Those aren't requests you make politely and walk away from if the answer isn't what you want to hear.”
“She's not some business acquisition,” I snap back.
“No,” Nikolai agrees. “She's more important than that. Which means you fight for her. You make her understand why saying yes is the only option that makes sense.”
“You mean to manipulate her.”
“I mean, convince her,” Nikolai corrects coldly. “Show her that marriage to you isn't a cage—it's freedom. Protection. Power.”
The silence in the conference room stretches until it becomes suffocating. My brothers' words echo in my head, but they feel distant, muffled by the thundering of my own pulse.
She loves me.
But does she love me enough?
The question claws at my insides. I've survived firefights, torture, and wounds that should have killed me. None of it compares to this—this raw uncertainty that makes my hands shake beneath the table.
“Erik.” Dmitri's voice cuts through my spiral. “You're overthinking this.”
“Am I?” The words come out sharper than intended. “She just escaped one forced marriage. Now I'm supposed to propose another?”
“Not the same thing,” Alexi says, but I barely hear him.
My mind races back to every moment we've shared. The way she yielded to me in bed, the softness in her eyes when she whispered she loved me. But underneath it all, I remember the fire in her when she spoke about her independence, her company, and the life she had built with her own hands.
Marriage could destroy all of that.
“What if she sees it as betrayal?” The words escape before I can stop them. “What if she thinks I'm just like her father? Another man trying to own her?”
Nikolai's steel gaze doesn't waver. “Then you show her you're not.”
“How?” My voice cracks at the word, and I hate the weakness it reveals. “How do I prove I want to protect her, not control her?”
Sofia speaks quietly. “By giving her the choice.”
“The choice to refuse means the choice to die,” I snap. “Igor won't stop. The Petrovs won't forgive the insult. She needs protection whether she wants it or not.”
“So, you're back to forcing her hand,” Dmitri observes.
“No.” The word comes out like gravel. “I'm back to being fucking terrified she'll say no.”
My chest tightens until I can hardly draw air into my lungs. I've never needed anything the way I need Katarina to say yes.
She could shatter me with a single word.
“Thirty-two years old, and you're finally learning what fear feels like,” Alexi murmurs with something almost like awe.
He's right. This is fear—pure, crystalline terror that cuts deeper than any blade.
Because loving Katarina isn't just about wanting her.
It's about knowing I can't survive losing her.