"I'm always planning something dangerous." I stand, pulling her up with me. "But right now, I need you to trust me. Can you do that?"
She nods, even though I can see the fear still swimming in her eyes.
"Good." I kiss her forehead. "Now go pack. Start thinking about Paris—the museums, the galleries, the life you're going to build there. Let me handle the rest."
"I don't want to leave you alone," she protests.
"You're not leaving me alone. You're giving me a reason to survive this." I turn her toward the door.
"Go. I need to talk to Papa."
She hesitates, looking back at me with an expression that's far too old for nineteen. "I love you, Kira."
"I love you too, Anyechka. More than anything."
When she's gone, I take a moment to rebuild my defenses. To lock away the softness and fear and replace it with the cold calculation that's kept me alive for six years.
Then I go find my father.
He's in his study, predictably, nursing a vodka and looking like a puppy that’s been kicked.
"We need to talk," I say, closing the door behind me.
"Kira, you have to understand—""I understand perfectly. You sold Anya to save your own skin. Whatever debt or pressure Roman's applying, you chose the easy way out."
"It's not that simple—"
"It's exactly that simple." I straighten. "But we're past that now. Here's what's going to happen: I will agree to marry Roman. I will be the dutiful bride he wants. But Anya goes to Paris. ToL'École des Beaux-Arts. Full tuition, living expenses, everything she needs."
My father blinks. "That's a very expensive school."
"I'm aware." I've looked into it before, dreamed of sending her. “It'll be part of the marriage settlement."
"He's not going to agree to—"
"He will." I allow myself a cold smile. "Because what he really wants is my organization. My connections. My reputation. He wants to absorb everything I've built. Sending Anya away is a small price to pay for that."
My father takes a long drink, and I can see him calculating. "And if he refuses?"
"Then I refuse. And we'll see who blinks first when his bride disappears and takes half of Moscow's underworld connections with her."
It's a bluff. Mostly. But my father doesn't need to know that.
"You've thought this through," he observes.
"I've thought about nothing else since his ultimatum."
"If I agree to this," he says slowly, "if I help you negotiate these terms with Roman... what do I get?"
The audacity nearly makes me laugh. "You get to keep breathing. You get to watch your youngest daughter live a life free from this world. Isn't that enough?"
"I meant financially. For the family."
"The family." I taste the word like poison. "You mean for you."
"Someone has to maintain our position—"
"I've been maintaining our position!" The rage breaks through my control. "For six years, while you sat in this study and pretended you still mattered! I rebuilt our name from the ashes of your failures! I turned us from a joke into something people respect!"
