"Evidence you could have fabricated." He cuts me off. "Convenient that you 'find' records right when you need them."
The dismissal makes something snap inside me.
I pick up a piece of bread and throw it at his face.
It hits him square in the forehead, leaving a small butter mark. His expression is priceless—shock, confusion, and something that might be amusement fighting for dominance.
"You're an idiot," I hiss. "A stubborn, blind idiot who's being used and can't see it."
"Careful," he warns, wiping the butter away. "That's assault."
"You want to see assault?" I'm past caring about volume. "I have years of assault saved up. Assault from being blamed for your death. Assault from building everything I have just to watch you destroy it. Assault from begging you to help save an innocent girl while you lecture me about consequences."
"Lower your voice—"
"No." I lean closer, fury overriding fear. "You listen to me, Maksim Barinov. You think I set you up. Fine. Believe what you want. But you have a real enemy out there. One that’s not going to be happy you’re alive. He's going to kill you for real this time."
"Is that a threat?"
"It's a warning. And just like last time, I will have nothing to do with it. But unlike last time, you'll know it's coming and still won't see it because you're too focused on destroying me to notice the knife at your own throat."
He stares at me, and for just a second, I see doubt flicker in his eyes.
Then Roman's voice cuts through the tension. "Is there a problem?"
He's standing in the doorway, watching us with amusement. Like he was hoping to return to find us fucking or fighting.
I sit back. "No problem. Just discussing old times."
"How nostalgic." Roman retakes his seat. "I hope you're both being civil."
"Extremely civil," Maksim says flatly.
We finish the meal in tense silence.
Dessert arrives—something chocolate and elaborate that I can't eat. I move it around my plate while Roman discusses final wedding preparations.
"Oh, one more thing." Roman sets down his fork. "For security reasons, you'll be moving into the compound tomorrow."
The words take a moment to register. "What?"
"Tomorrow. I'll send people to collect your things." He says it casually, like announcing the weather. "You'll stay in the guestwing until the wedding, then move to your permanent quarters after."
"No." I set down my fork carefully. "I'm not moving in before the wedding. That wasn't part of the agreement."
"The agreement has changed." His voice is laced with threat. "You'll be here, under proper security, where I can ensure nothing happens to you before the ceremony."
"Nothing will happen to me in my own apartment—"
"Your apartment is a security risk." He cuts me off. "This isn't a negotiation, Kira. It's done."
"You can't just—"
"I can." He leans forward. "I'm your fiancé. Soon to be your husband. Your safety is my responsibility. And I've determined that you're safest here, under my protection."
In his prison.
"I have work to complete. Arrangements to finalize—"
