He always waits. It’s a deliberate habit, one meant to remind everyone who enters that time bends toward him, not the other way around. He’s seated behind his desk, posture relaxed, eyes already on Emma the moment we step inside.
I don’t waste time with pleasantries.
“This is Emma,” I say, my hand settling firmly at the small of her back. A public claim. Intentional. “She’s the woman I’ve chosen.”
Yury’s gaze flicks briefly to me, sharp and knowing, then returns to her. “You’re welcome here,” he says. A statement of fact.
Emma inclines her head slightly, instinctively respectful without being submissive. I feel the faint shift in her posture, the way she squares herself instead of shrinking. Yury notices too. His mouth twitches with something like approval.
“She’ll be my wife,” I continue. “I’m bringing her under the family’s protection. Fully.”
Silence stretches, heavy but not tense.
Yury leans back in his chair. “And the matter of heirs?”
I don’t look away from him when I answer.
“We intend to try,” I say evenly. “But her career placed significant strain on her body. There may be challenges initially.”
Emma’s breath stutters almost imperceptibly, but she doesn’t pull away. She stays exactly where she is, spine straight, chin lifted.
Yury studies her for a long moment, then nods once. “You’re a dancer?” It’s as much statement as question and Emma simply nods with a tight smile.
“Was,” she says. “But now my focus has changed directions…” She trails off and looks up at me and I swear my heart melts a little. Odd, considering my family would argue I didn’t even possess a heart.
“Challenges will be accommodated,” Yury says before turning his gaze back on me. “I’m pleased you took me seriously and found someone worthy of carrying our name.”
The relief that moves through her is subtle, but I feel it. Feel the way her shoulders ease just a fraction, like some unspoken fear has been laid to rest.
“You understand what this means,” Yury says to her directly. “Being Dubovich.”
Emma meets his gaze. “I understand that it means loyalty, permanence, and consequences. Good and bad.”
Yury smiles then. That slow, calculated grin that makes lesser men crumble. “You’ll fit right in.”
Just like that, recognition is granted and our position is secured.
When we leave the study, Emma exhales softly, like she had been holding her breath the entire time we were in there. Outside, the air feels lighter, even though nothing about our situation has softened.
“I wasn’t sure what to expect,” she admits quietly as we walk back toward the converted barn.
“You were never going to be rejected,” I tell her. “I wouldn’t have brought you otherwise.”
She nods, absorbing that with the same careful thought she brings to everything now.
Back inside our home, I help her settle on the couch, kneeling briefly to adjust the brace on her ankle. My hands are steady, but the restraint in my body hums under my skin, constant and demanding. I roll my shoulders once, slow and deliberate, easing the tight pull at the base of my neck.
She watches me do it, eyes thoughtful. Aware.
Something shifts in my chest, heavy and grounding. When I stand, she reaches for my hand without hesitation this time. I lace my fingers through hers and give a gentle squeeze, a silent acknowledgment of what she’s stepped into.
“This isn’t a cage,” I tell her. “It’s our home. One you help define, create, build. This is where our future begins.”
She studies our joined hands, then looks up at me with a steadiness that makes me feel like a king.
“I’m ready for that. But are you?” she counters.
That’s the moment I feel it shift into more than my obsession. It feels like a partnership.
