Chapter 14 #2
The distinction matters more than I want to admit.
Protecting someone who doesn’t understand the dangers is different from protecting a partner who chooses to accept those dangers in exchange for agency.
“She’s carrying seven of my children and owns seventy-five percent of a business that launders significant money through Charleston. She was never really a civilian.”
“Fair point.” He finishes his vodka and signals for another. “How is she handling the information?”
“Better than I expected. She asks intelligent questions, offers practical suggestions, and treats it like any other problem requiring solutions.” I find myself smiling at the memory of her pragmatic reaction to money laundering details. “She’s tougher than she looks.”
“Good because if Mikhail escalates his campaign, she’ll need that toughness.” His expression grows more serious. “Speaking of which, we have new intelligence about his operations.”
I set down my scotch with deliberate care. “What kind of intelligence?”
“He’s been importing specialists from Moscow over the past month, including surveillance experts, extraction specialists, and people with very specific skill sets.
” Timur slides his phone across the table, showing me intercepted communications.
“This isn’t random harassment anymore. It’s systematic preparation. ”
The scope of Mikhail’s planning is more extensive than I anticipated. “Timeline?”
“Unknown, but the pattern suggests he’s building toward something significant.”
The professional nature of his preparations indicates he’s learned from eight years of planning and won’t be rushed into mistakes by impatience. “Recommendations?”
“Enhanced security around Willa, obviously, but also strategic preparation for multiple scenarios. If he’s planning extraction, we need counter-extraction protocols. If he’s planning major attacks, we need hardened defensive positions.”
“What if he’s planning both simultaneously?”
“Then we continue to prepare for war.” Timur’s voice drops lower.
“The fifty men I recruited from Moscow will be here via a smuggled cargo container in a few days, which gives us the numbers to hold our own against Mikhail’s group.
The question is whether you’re ready to treat this as full-scale conflict rather than territorial harassment. ”
The server brings our food, but my appetite has vanished. The escalation timeline means the protective measures I’ve implemented might not be sufficient for what’s coming. I pick at my food while we continue our discussion, parting ways an hour later.
When I return to the estate almost an hour after that, I find her in the kitchen with Alina, with both women preparing what appears to be a late snack.
The domestic scene should be comforting, but now I study their interaction with new awareness of how isolated Willa has been from normal human contact.
“How was your meeting?” Willa looks up from slicing fruit with genuine interest.
“Productive. We have new intelligence about Mikhail’s operations that I’ll share with you later.” I join them at the large island, noting how much more relaxed Willa appears than she has in days.
“Anything urgent?”
“Nothing that can’t wait until after you’ve had something to eat.” I catch Alina’s eye and smile. “Thank you for keeping Willa company. I know she appreciates having someone to talk with.”
“Of course, Mr. Taranov. Ms. Reynolds was telling me about her plans for the nursery.” Her voice carries genuine warmth as she arranges crackers on a plate. “Seven babies will require quite a lot of preparation.”
“We’re still trying to wrap our minds around the logistics.” Willa’s smile carries excitement despite the exhaustion around her eyes. “Seven cribs, seven car seats… Seven of everything!”
The conversation feels natural and unstrained, a reminder that Willa needs social interaction beyond just business discussions and security briefings.
Alina’s presence provides something I can’t offer, which is another woman to talk with about pregnancy concerns and domestic arrangements.
I have to ensure Harper can easily visit her whenever they both wish.
Alina excuses herself, and we share the late snack in the informal dining area, where I enjoy the domesticity despite the day’s discussions about warfare and tactical planning. Willa seems more relaxed than she has since moving in, with her color better and her breathing less labored.
“I’ve been thinking about your suggestion to be more involved in security planning.” She cuts her apple into precise slices. “What if I started carrying a panic button that I can activate if I feel threatened?”
The practical suggestion impresses me. “That’s a good idea. I’ll have something arranged tomorrow.”
“I’d also like to understand our defensive preparations better. If Mikhail does attempt something, I want to know what the response protocols look like.”
Alina returns to clear our plates and excuses herself to finish cleaning the kitchen, leaving Willa and me alone to continue our conversation. “Are you feeling better about the security arrangements now that you understand more about the situation?”
She nods. “I’m feeling better about being part of them instead of just subject to them.” She takes my hand. “Partnership works better than protection.”
After Alina finishes in the kitchen and excuses herself for the evening, Willa and I move to my office for the intelligence briefing I promised.
The information Timur shared about Mikhail’s preparations requires careful explanation, but I find myself appreciating her analytical approach to dangerous realities.
“How serious is the current threat level?” she asks after reviewing the intercepted communications.
“More serious than I initially assessed. Mikhail is importing specialists with very specific skill sets, which suggests he’s planning something more ambitious than random harassment.”
She studies the documents. “What kind of specialists?”
“Surveillance experts, extraction specialists, and people with experience in complex operations.” I watch her face for signs of fear, but she maintains an analytical expression. “The combination suggests he’s planning either major attacks on our operations or an attempt to kidnap you.”
“Probably both.” She sets down the photos and meets my gaze directly. “He knows hurting your businesses will make you angry but taking me will make you desperate.”
Her clear assessment of the strategic situation impresses me. “That’s exactly right, which means we need to prepare for multiple scenarios.”
“What does preparation look like?”
“Enhanced security protocols, reduced predictability in your routines, and back-up plans for various contingencies.” I lean back in my chair, studying her reaction. “It also means accepting normal life is suspended until this situation is resolved.”
She nods like she expected this conclusion. “How long do you think that will be?”
“Weeks and possibly months. Mikhail has been planning this for eight years. He won’t be rushed into mistakes.”
We spend another hour discussing security protocols and emergency procedures. Willa asks intelligent questions and offers practical suggestions that demonstrate she’s thinking constructively rather than just accepting directives passively.
“I should let you get some rest.” I stand and move around the desk to where she’s sitting. “The babies need you to take care of yourself.”
She stands and moves into my arms, her body warm and solid against mine. “Are you coming to bed?”
“In a few minutes. I need to review some additional reports first.”
“Don’t work too late.” She pulls back to look at me, her expression soft with affection. “I sleep better when you’re there.”
After she leaves for our bedroom, I remain in the office reviewing the intelligence Timur shared. The systematic nature of Mikhail’s preparations suggests he’s learned from our previous encounters and won’t underestimate our defensive capabilities.
My phone buzzes with a text from Timur: Bomb attack on west side operation. No casualties but significant property damage. Mikhail is escalating.
The message confirms what we both suspected. The war is moving beyond psychological harassment into active destruction of our business infrastructure. The attack on a smaller operation sends a clear message that nowhere is safe, and he can strike whenever he chooses.
I respond that I’ll meet him at the site in the morning, then spend several minutes studying security camera feeds from around the estate. Everything appears normal, but Mikhail’s latest attack reminds me how quickly situations can change.
When I finally go upstairs, I find Willa already asleep in our bed, curled on her side with one hand resting on her stomach.
The sight of her in my space, using my pillow and wearing one of my shirts, fills me with possessive satisfaction that has nothing to do with business arrangements or security concerns.
I join her carefully, pulling her close so her head rests on my chest. She settles against me with a soft sound of contentment that makes me finally relax.
Somewhere in the past few weeks, my feelings for her have evolved beyond physical attraction or business partnership into something that resembles genuine love. The thought of losing her to Mikhail’s revenge creates a cold fury that threatens to override rational decision-making.
She shifts in her sleep and makes a soft sound that might be my name.
I hold her closer and make silent promises about the future we’ll build together once Mikhail Balakin is dead and buried.
The woman sleeping in my arms has become the center of my world.
Whatever Mikhail is planning, she’ll be included from now on in anything that’s safe for her to know about, and that partnership might be exactly what we need to survive what’s coming.