Translation: he doesn't want anyone there who might interfere with his complete control.
"And the Petrov family?" I try. "They've been our allies for years."
"Were your allies," Roman corrects, his hand tightening on my knee. "Past tense. They've chosen to remain neutral during this transition. I don't invite neutral parties to my wedding."
Every name I recognize as potentially friendly is missing.
I'm being isolated. Systematically cut off from anyone who might provide support. Does he have something planned? Something bigger than just a wedding. My brain spits out various scenarios, but I keep coming back to Roman hurting me in some way. Or killing me.My family.
My thoughts are cut off when the server delivers the first course.
"The security arrangements are quite extensive," Roman continues, swiping to another screen. The server practically runs out of the room. "Given the high-profile nature of the event, I've tripled the usual precautions."
He shows me diagrams that look like prison blueprints.
"Very thorough," I manage.
"I'm protecting my investment." His smile doesn't reach his eyes. "Can't have anything happening to my beautiful bride."
Maksim's fork clatters against his plate. We both glance at him, but he's already resuming eating like nothing happened.
“Are there threats?” I ask coolly.
I pick up my fork and poke at my Olivier salad. Am I hungry—no. But I will pretend I’m unbothered.
“There are always threats, my dear,” Roman replies. “And now that Maksim is here, we have to be careful.”
“Why? Does someone want him dead?” I ask the question with so much sweetness it almost makes me gag.
Roman chuckles. “Someone tried. They failed.”
I almost say pity but decide that might not be the smartest decision.
The second course, borscht it brought out.
Maksim is relatively quiet. He still won’t look at me. He talks to Roman, but not me.
That’s fine. When the main course is delivered, I tell myself I’m halfway through. Then I can leave. I can get away from these men. It’s strange to sit down to a civilized meal with two men that hate you in different ways. Roman might pretend he wants me, but that’s only to break me.
Maksim just hates me.
Ten days.I have ten days until this becomes permanent.
Ten days to find a way out that doesn't end with Anya destroyed.
And how in the hell will Maksim and I co-exist under the same roof?
"I've also arranged your accommodations for after the wedding," Roman says. "The east wing has been completely remodeled. New security systems. Private access."
"Accommodations." I repeat the word carefully. "You mean our rooms."
"Your room," he corrects. "I prefer to maintain my own space. For work purposes."
Translation: he wants me accessible but contained. Close enough to control, isolated enough to break.
"Of course," I say through gritted teeth.
I’m more than happy to not have to share his bed.
