He paused.
“You’re my wife, Pen. For three months, that title has weight. It disarms. It intrigues.” His gaze burned into me. “He’ll listen to you.”
I turned my face back toward the ceiling, the carved molding blurring as my thoughts tangled.
“And if I refuse?”
“There will be no punishment,” he said simply. “I won’t force you.”
The words should have reassured me.
Instead, I almost laughed at the bitter irony. “And if I agree?”
“Then you earn a reward.”
His voice changed—softer, persuasive, the tone he used when he wanted something badly but refused to beg.
“When the three months end and this marriage dissolves, you may ask me for one thing. One.” He lifted a finger slightly, as if sealing a vow. “Anything. Half my wealth. Properties abroad. Enough money to vanish forever and live like a queen. Name it.”
I stayed silent.
Money meant nothing to me. I’d survived five years with nothing but Ruslan’s shadow and my own teeth bared to the world. Wealth couldn’t buy safety from a man like Dmitri Volkov.
But leverage could.
A promise from him—spoken, witnessed, bound by his iron sense of honor—that was something else entirely. Insurance, in case he decided not to let me go when the contract ended. In case he learned the truth and tried to keep Vanya. In case I needed to pry something precious from his hands later.
“I don’t want you to go to war, Dmitri,” I said at last, my voice barely above a whisper.
The honesty surprised us both.
I hated him. Feared him. Resented him for everything he’d taken from me.
But I didn’t want him dead.
Not the father of my son.
Not the man who still lived in my dreams like a scar that refused to fade.
He shifted then, turning fully toward me. The mattress dipped under his weight, the space between us shrinking until his presence felt unavoidable. Slowly—deliberately—he lifted his hand, fingers hovering just above my cheek.
Close enough that I felt the heat of his skin.
Close enough that every nerve in my body screamed.
He didn’t touch me.
Not yet.
“You speak like you care whether I live or die,” he murmured.
There was faint amusement in the words, a lazy curl to them, but his eyes betrayed him. They were dark, intent, stripping me down to whatever truths I was still trying to hide.
I didn’t look away. “As long as you’re my husband—even on paper—I suppose it’s my responsibility to discourage reckless behavior.”
A corner of his mouth lifted. Not a smile. Something quieter. Almost... fond.
“Responsibility,” he repeated softly, tasting the word. “You always did hide your heart behind duty.”
