"I love you too."
She kisses me gently. "Now rest. You need to heal."
"Stay with me?"
"Always."
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Kira
Six months after the factory explosion, I walk into what used to be Roman's private office and smile.
They've stripped away the ostentatious decorations that were just so ugly. The gold fixtures, the expensive art that was more about displaying wealth than appreciating beauty, and the furniture designed to intimidate rather than function is all gone.
This is my husband’s office now.
Ouroffice.
The massive conference table is covered with organizational charts and territory maps. The architecture of a new kindof power structure. One we're building from the ground up. Together. I love that he wants my opinion. He appreciates my experience.
And damn does it feel good to be at the head of the table again. Maybe I got a little power hungry after getting to run my own operation.
I sit down at the table and reach for a pen. My ring catches the light. Every time I see it on my finger I’m reminded of what it took to get that ring there. Maksim and I married a week after he was released from the hospital. We didn’t want the big ceremony. It was too risky. But Maksim insisted on making me his wife and I certainly wasn’t complaining. Anya along with Alina and Semyon attended. We kept it very, very small. Our circle of trusted people was much tighter back then.
"The Volkov family wants to negotiate," Semyon announces as he walks into the room.
I shift in my chair, trying to find a comfortable position. At eight months pregnant with twins, comfortable positions are theoretical rather than practical.
"That's the fifth family this month," I observe, reaching for the folder.
"Word is spreading." Semyon looks satisfied. "The Barinov-Markov alliance offers something the old regime never did—stability without terror, profit without brutality."
"Not everyone approves." I gesture to the security reports on the corner of the table. "Three attempts on our lives in the past month."
"Three failed attempts," Semyon corrects. "And each one cost the old guard credibility. Weak attempts from people that are just trying to get a name for themselves. No one takes them seriously. People are tired of the violence. Tired of living in fear. What you and Maksim are building—it's what people have wanted for years but were too afraid to ask for."
I want to believe him. Want to believe that six months is enough to fundamentally change how the Moscow underworld operates.
But I'm a realist. And I know change is slow. Painful. Resisted by those who benefited from the old ways.
A lot of people have lost some of their control. They’ve lost money and connections. That makes people do really stupid things.
"Schedule the meeting with the Volkovs," I say finally. "But Maksim and I both attend. Show them this is a genuine partnership, not a power grab."
"Will do." Semyon makes a note. "And Kira? You're doing well. Better than anyone expected. The families respect what you've accomplished."
"They respect whatwe'veaccomplished." The distinction is important. "Maksim and I together. That's the whole point."
The door opens, and Maksim enters carrying two cups of tea.
"Chamomile," he says, setting one cup in front of me. "Doctor's orders."
"The doctor also ordered bed rest." I take the tea anyway. "Which I'm ignoring."
"Compromise." He settles into the chair beside me. "You work from here, sitting down, with frequent breaks."
The twins kick in response to his voice—they always do. Like they recognize their father even from inside the womb.
