“How many more men do you want me to kill to prove to you that you’re the one I want?”
“None. I want trust. And a love that won’t suffocate me.”
I stare at her and at the small swell of her stomach that she unconsciously touches whenever she’s scared.
For the first time tonight, I feel the weight of what she’s asking for. It’s not softness she wants; it’s space.
Air.
A version of me that doesn’t need to keep proving everything through blood and threats.
The kind of man she deserves, not the one I’ve become.
I want to tell her I don’t know how to be that man. Every instinct I have is to grab tighter and to protect until there’s nothing left. But if I say that out loud, I’ll lose her before I’ve even had a chance.
Instead, I reach over slowly enough that she can pull away if she wants, and rest my hand on hers.
“I’ll learn how,” I tell her quietly. “To give you that. The trust. The space. Whatever the hell you need.”
She looks at me for long enough that I start to think she’s going to say no to everything—me, marriage, and a life I’m trying to build around her.
Then, finally, she exhales and says, “Fine.”
I blink. “Fine?”
“Yeah.” She looks at me now. “We can get married. But I want an agreement written up. If, in five years, I want to leave, you let me go. No questions, no strings.”
I study her for a long moment. She’s set her terms, and I respect the hell out of her for it.
“Alright,” I say finally. “And when that time comes—ifthat time comes—you can take whatever you want.”
“And custody?”
“Half and half,” I say. “I’ll pay alimony. Private schools. College. Cars?—”
“No. I just want to see what it’s like. Being Mrs. Volkov.”
That pulls a real smirk out of me for the first time tonight. “Mrs. Volkov…”
That’s the first time I’ve heard it out loud, and I love it.
“Yes,” she says softly. “I want to see what you’ll do to win me over.”
“I’ll treat you like the queen you are, princess.”
“Three months,” she states. “I want… three months.”
I bob my head even though I don’t know what she’s talking about. “Okay.”
She lifts one of her brows. “You didn’t ask for what?”
“It doesn’t matter. Whatever you want, it’s yours.”
A ghost of a smile glows from her face before she straightens it. “The wedding. I don’t…want to remember tonight. I want something special.”
Of course, she does, you dumbass.
“I understand.” I nod. “You just tell me where to be.”
