Chapter 25
INESSA
Iwake to the sound of Yuri's steady breathing next to me.
His arm remains curved around my waist, holding me against his chest even in sleep, and for the first time in months, I don't feel the immediate urge to check my surroundings for threats.
The safe house exists in its own bubble, insulated from the chaos that has defined my "normal" existence for the past six weeks.
Last night, he told me he needs me, though I'm not sure what that means in his mind.
When I looked into his eyes, I believed him, but then, I had just told him I love him.
Because I do love him, against my better judgment, without any good reason.
My heart just fell.
But Yuri didn’t say he loves me.
He said he needs me.
It conjures feelings of inadequacy and nervousness too, making me restless.
I shift carefully, trying not to wake him, but his eyes open immediately.
I see a flash of alertness as his eyes shoot open wide and then settle on me.
His hand grips my wrist, and then he relaxes and lets his eyes flutter shut.
"How did you sleep?" he asks, and his voice is still thick with sleep.
"Better than I have in years."
He pulls me closer, pressing a kiss to the top of my head as I lie down on his chest.
"Good."
It feels comfortable in bed next to him with his arm around me.
I watch the sun begin to rise out the eastern window and feel Yuri's fingers dance on the bare skin on my arm.
He's in no rush to jump out of bed, so we linger there, but he says nothing.
With the pressure we're under to finish this job and make sure my mother's evil talons stay far away from what's left of my business and his, soaking up these tender moments seems priceless.
Eventually, however, hunger drives us from the bed.
I slip away first and dress in his T-shirt and boxers, making my way to the kitchen.
He finds his way out shortly after with a fresh pair of shorts on and nothing else.
His hair sticks up at odd angles, but the rough, masculine strength of his body is still attractive.
"Pancakes?" I suggest, finding flour and eggs.
I sort through the cupboards to find a bowl and a measuring cup, and Yuri goes for the coffee machine.
"You know how to make pancakes?"
"Our housekeeper taught me when I was little. Batya thought it'd be a good idea."
I measure flour into a bowl, muscle memory guiding movements I haven't performed in years.
"He said every woman should know how to cook for the people she loves."
Yuri moves behind me, his arms circling my waist as I work.
"Smart man."
He presses kisses to the side of my neck, and I lean into them.
"He had his moments."
I mix the batter while Yuri heats the pan, and for a few precious minutes, we exist as nothing more than a couple making breakfast together.
He tells me about the books he was reading before Dominic and Batya were killed—military history.
And I describe the design collection I was working on before everything fell apart, evening gowns inspired by winter landscapes that will probably never see production.
If those designs are even still in my office or what's left of it.
"You could start over," he says as I pour batter into the pan.
"After this is finished with your mother. Build something new."
"Would you let me?"
"You're not my prisoner, Inessa. You're my wife. The measures I've taken to protect you won't always exist. Only as long as the threat exists."
His touch is tender as he pulls away to fill two mugs with coffee as the machine finishes brewing.
He leans on the counter and scrolls his phone while I finish cooking and plating our breakfast as I imagine what life could really be like with Yuri as my husband.
He's incredible when it comes to making my body feel sexual pleasure, but what does a man his age know about caring for a woman so young?
I wonder if he would end up treating me like a child.
Something about it doesn’t feel right, but when I look at him while we eat, all I can see is a man who deeply cares about my wellbeing.
Perhaps he loves me, even though he won't admit it.
This is what normal could feel between us—him sitting opposite me for breakfast and dinner, coming home and telling me about his day.
Me sharing my designs and hosting dinner parties for him and his guests.
I could see us being happy—if happiness is ever achievable when your heart is grieving so desperately.
The illusion shatters when his phone rings.
Yuri's entire demeanor changes the moment he sees the caller ID.
The relaxed man who'd been enjoying his pancakes disappears, replaced by the cold strategist I know so well.
He answers with a curt greeting and listens as whoever's on the other end delivers their report.
I watch his jaw tighten, see the way his free hand curls into a fist on the table.
Whatever he's hearing isn't good news.
"When?" he finally asks.
I'm sitting on the edge of my seat as I strain to hear his caller's voice.
His eyes find mine across the table, and I see apology there mixed with rage.
"No. Don't move yet. I'll handle this personally."
He ends the call and sets the phone down, but I see the way his shoulders have grown tense in less than twenty seconds.
"What is it?"
"Your mother has been busy while we've been planning. She's filed emergency injunctions with three different courts, claiming you're being held against your will and demanding immediate control of your remaining assets for your protection."
I nearly choke on a bite of pancake as I sit straighter to object.
"She can't do that."
"She can if she bribes the right judges. Which she has."
His voice remains level, but I can see the fury building in his eyes.
"The injunctions were filed this morning. By the end of the week, she'll have legal authority to seize everything—your company shares, your personal accounts, even your inheritance from your father."
My vision blurs with rage so pure, it takes my breath away.
"She's stealing everything."
"Yes."
I stand abruptly, and the chair scrapes against the floor.
"She's erasing me."
"Inessa—"
"No."
The word explodes from my chest.
"I'm done. I'm done reacting to her moves, done being protected while she destroys my entire life, done being treated like some fragile thing that needs to be kept safe while everything I care about burns down around me."
I grab my empty water glass from the counter and hurl it against the wall.
It shatters in a satisfying explosion of crystal shards, and the violence of it feels good, like it's purging my pent-up emotion.
I've barely had a chance to grieve my father and my mother comes in to destroy me.
None of this is right.
Yuri rises slowly, hands raised in a calming gesture that only makes my fury burn hotter.
"You need to stay calm."
"Calm? She's stealing my identity, my life's work, my future, and you want me to stay calm?"
"I want you to think rationally about what we're dealing with—"
"What we're dealing with?"
I shouldn't take my anger out on him, but it's so consuming, I don't know where to put it.
"No. What I'm dealing with. This is my mother, my business, my life she's destroying. And you're treating me like some helpless victim who needs to be managed and protected while the adults handle the real work."
"This isn't a game, Inessa. The people we're dealing with don't hesitate to kill anyone who gets in their way. Your mother's already proven she's willing to have you murdered if it serves her purposes."
"Then maybe it's time I proved I'm willing to fight back just as hard."
Unable to eat, I pick up my plate and toss it in the sink.
Pancakes and syrup splash on the counter and I grip the edge of it to steady myself.
"You don't understand the realities of this world—"
"Stop," I snap.
Then I turn to face him, as angry as I've ever been.
"Stop treating me like a child who doesn't understand consequences. I know exactly what my mother is capable of. I know the risks, and I'm telling you I don't care."
Yuri moves closer, and I see something dangerous flickering in his dark eyes.
"You should care. This war is bloodier than anything you can imagine. Once you cross certain lines, there's no going back to who you used to be."
"Good. I don't want to go back to who I used to be. That woman was naive and trusting and weak. She let people betray her because she couldn't imagine anyone being cruel enough to hurt someone they claimed to love."
I step closer to him, not backing down from the intensity of his stare.
"I'm not her anymore."
"And who are you now?"
"I'm your wife. Your equal. The woman who's going to help you destroy the people who tried to destroy us."
I reach up to cup his face, feeling the tension in his jaw beneath my palms.
I've forgotten what it felt like to be weak and let someone shepherd me.
I don't want that anymore.
I am leaning into this new version of me—the angry one, the violent one.
Because this version of me can protect myself.
"Stop trying to protect me from this fight. I'm already in it, whether you like it or not. The only question is whether I'm fighting beside you or fighting alone."
My eyes search his and he scowls at me.
I know he doesn’t want me involved, and that's half the reason he kept me locked away with no contact to the outside world, but it's too late.
I'm involved now, and he has to respect me.
"You want to be involved in planning?" he finally asks.
"I want to be involved in everything."
"The meetings with my lieutenants can get brutal. These men don't pull their punches when discussing strategy, and some of their suggestions might shock you."
"Let them try."
Something shifts in his expression then.
He's actually thinking about this.
He's seeing me differently, recognizing that the woman standing before him isn't the same one he'd married months ago.
"There's a meeting scheduled for this afternoon," he says slowly.
"A high-level strategy session about how to respond to your mother's legal maneuvers."
"I'll be there."
"Some of the things we'll discuss—"