Chapter 14 #2
Color leaves the proposed bride's face.
She takes the device without touching the image. Her eyes move from the photograph to the alias beneath it, then back again. "This isn't his name."
"You know him."
"He's my relative." The words come quietly but without hesitation. "My father assigned him to watch the alliance meeting from the neighboring table. He was supposed to arrive before either delegation, observe the entrances and then identify outside surveillance. He arrived late."
My fingers lock around the edge of the table. The green dress, the drink order, and the number I chose to give him had all belonged to an ordinary date I arranged because I was tired of waiting for my own life. To him, they were camouflage. Even standing me up was only incompetence.
The profile smile changes under her recognition. I can see the man outside the restaurant now, losing time inside the wrong level of a parking structure while I waited at the table he had chosen for his convenience.
"He used me as an excuse to sit there."
"He arranged a real date because a woman waiting for him made the chair credible.
He had your number, your photograph, and the personal details needed to answer questions if anyone noticed him.
" Disgust tightens her mouth. "He failed to reach the table.
He failed to detect the attack. My father blamed him publicly before he disappeared. "
Irina has already taken out her phone. The proposed bride tells her that he emptied every account he could reach that night. His registered flat was abandoned by morning, so the family assumed he had fled after the attack destroyed his standing.
Irina asks what he took besides money.
The proposed bride looks at the security woman before answering. "Crew documents issued through separate port operations. Each identity belonged to a different compartment, so no one officer held the complete file. My father refused to admit how many were missing."
The security woman calls Konstantin through the protected line. He answers before the first ring finishes.
I remain beside the table while the proposed bride gives her relative's legal name.
She spells it once, then supplies the location of his registered flat.
Irina adds the secure address for the file transfer.
A verified family photograph follows, sharper than the profile image, with three known crew identities and the last addresses attached to them.
Konstantin's voice reaches me through the speaker. "I have it. Keep Nora inside until the car reaches the private entrance."
"I'm sitting here," I say.
"I know."
"Then you can tell me instead of the furniture."
His pause lasts half a breath. "Stay with Galina. I'm sending another team."
"That's better."
The proposed bride watches the screen after the call ends. "There is something else," she says. "He collected recordings from old amusement rides linked to our family. Carousels, mechanical bands, dark rides that closed years ago. He said the machinery deserved witnesses after the parks failed."
A chill moves over my arms despite the warm room. "Does that tell us where he went?"
"No. There were several parks, most stripped or sold. The recordings were copied into a private archive before he fled. I can provide the list, but I can't identify one present location from the habit." She sends it anyway.
The salon has become quieter beyond the carved panels. A hanger slides along a rail. Cups touch saucers in the dining room, delicate domestic sounds continuing around the fact that my missing date now has a real name, a family, and a reason for choosing my table.
"Why keep writing to me?" I ask.
The proposed bride hands the screen back. "Because he considers selection a form of possession. He chose your profile, your table, your time. Konstantin reached you first, so he believes something was taken from him."
"He never had me."
"He does not care that you never agreed."
By the time we leave, security has confirmed receipt of the verified photograph, three crew identities, four addresses, and the ride list. Teams are comparing every location while Konstantin decides whether the new information makes the residence unsafe.
The silence from the port family leaves us waiting to learn how much cooperation the patriarch's pride will permit.
The proposed bride walks with me to the private entrance. "I didn't want to marry your husband," she says while snow turns the glass doors white. "I need you to know that my help isn't generosity. Your marriage freed me. Finding my relative may help me keep that freedom."
"Don't polish the reason for me."
She studies my face and nods.
At the residence, I find Konstantin in the bedroom reading the new security file. He rises the moment I enter. His attention passes over my coat, hands, face, then returns to my eyes.
"You weren't touched."
"I attended lunch, not a siege."
"A man who arranged access to you has been identified."
"Which is progress."
His hand reaches for my waist. I catch his wrist before he touches me.
The surprise in his face lasts only a second.
Larissa's advice returns with useful clarity. Men who command rooms become remarkably foolish when denied permission to touch.
I step closer. My coat brushes his trousers. "Ask."
His pupils widen.
"May I touch my wife?"
"You may kiss her."
Konstantin's hand remains at his side while he lowers his mouth to mine. His shoulders lock under my palms. When I catch his lower lip between my teeth, his breath catches, though neither hand leaves his side.
I let him kiss me until my knees weaken and the salon, the photograph, and the unlocked door all recede beneath the heat of his mouth. Then I place my palm against his chest. "That's all."
He watches me cross the room with his hands still at his sides. I take my coat into the dressing room, warmer than I was under the salon chandelier.
Before she stepped into her car, the proposed bride gave me one last warning about the man we now know.
He has always treated an unlocked door as permission to enter.