I fought the urge to wrap my hands around her throat. I took a deep drag, letting the nicotine flood my lungs. She knew about Elena—that fact hung over my head like a sword. It meant she could feed this information to her father, to my father, anytime she wanted. Put me completely on the defensive.
My throat worked as I swallowed, then spoke, hating the compromise in my voice. "What do you want?"
She seemed surprised by my reaction, paused, then smiled deeper. "What I want is simple, Igor. I want you to treat me better, more intimately. At least in public, you need to act like a real fiancé."
I stared at her for several seconds. "Fine. But you promise me this ends here."
"Of course." Her voice softened. "I'm not threatening you, Igor. I just want you to understand—I'm the wife who can help you consolidate power. That girl... she can't give you anything. So now, can we pick out tomorrow night's outfit together?"
I nodded, stubbed out my cigarette, and took the tablet. I scrolled through each design, finally stopping on one page.
"This one works." I pointed to a deep black tuxedo. "Appropriate for the occasion."
Her eyes lit up. "I knew you'd like this one. It suits your presence perfectly."
"Very thoughtful of you." I handed back the tablet.
She clutched it to her chest, biting her lower lip. "Can I stay here tonight?"
I instantly understood what she really meant. Staying meant sex—that's what she wanted. But I sure as hell wasn't compromising that far. My jaw clenched.
"Natasha," I looked up at her, "tomorrow's security is crucial. I need to ensure nothing goes wrong."
"I know that." She looked at me questioningly. "But Igor, your men aren't incompetent. They don't fall apart without you."
"We'll have plenty of time." I kept my tone gentle—I needed to keep her stable for now. "Trust me, Natasha. After the engagement banquet, everything will fall into place."
She studied me for several seconds, frustration flashing in her eyes, but finally relented. "Fine."
She picked up her tablet, glancing back at me before leaving. "Goodbye, my fiancé."
The office door closed.
I shut my eyes. This woman was more trouble than I'd anticipated. But at least for now, she hadn't exposed Elena. I needed to handle this more carefully.
A knock broke through my thoughts. I opened my eyes.
"Come in."
Artyom pushed through the door, his face grimmer than before. "Boss, we've got a situation."
"Talk."
"Our contact at the docks reported back—the last few arms deals with the Balkans, the intel got leaked every time. They didn't succeed, but it's obvious we've got Italian spies inside." Artyom's voice was heavy, his expression tight.
My cheekbones went rigid, voice turning ice-cold. "Findthem."
"Already on it." Artyom nodded. "But..."
"Narrow it down. Fewer than ten people have access to core transaction intel. Put surveillance on all of them." I cut him off, issuing orders. "I want that rat dragged out before the engagement banquet. Alive."
"Understood."
After Artyom left, I picked up my phone again, staring at Elena's lone message.
[Today's our six-month anniversary.]
I finally replied: [I'll pick you up at the hotel by 8. We'll celebrate back at the apartment.]
