I just agreed to marry him.
Today.
The thought sends a shiver of panic through me. But underneath that is something warm and reckless that feels like a kind of relief.
I press my fingers to my lips. They're still swollen from his kiss, still tingling with the memory of his mouth on mine. That wasn't like the not-kiss in the car. That was claiming. Possession. A promise of things I don't have words for yet.
Good girl.
The words echo in my head, settling somewhere low in my stomach where they have no business being. I should be offended, feel belittled or…something.
A sharp knock interrupts my spiral.
"Matilda?" Mila's voice, bright and curious. "Can I come in?"
I smooth down the oversized hoody like that will somehow make me look more put together. "Yes."
She sweeps back in, eyes immediately scanning my face with the kind of attention that suggests she knows exactly what just happened. Or at least suspects.
"So," she says, a smile playing at the corners of her mouth. "My brother looked... intense when he left just now."
Heat floods my cheeks. "He—we—"
"You're getting married." It's not a question. "Today, knowing him."
I stare at her. "How did you—"
"Because I know Gennady." She moves to sit on the bed, patting the space beside her. "And I've never seen him look at anyone the way he looks at you. Like you're something he's already decided belongs to him and the rest of the world just needs to catch up."
I sink down next to her, hands twisting in my lap. "This is insane."
"Yes," she agrees easily. "But also very Gennady. When he makes a decision, he doesn't wait around for permission or proper timing or... really anything that normal people would consider reasonable."
"I don't—" I stop and take a deep breath as I try to organize my thoughts. "I don't even know him. Not really. And he doesn't know me."
"He knows enough." Mila's hand closes over mine. "He saw you last night, Matilda. The way you stood up to your family. The way you chose yourself even when it cost you everything. That's not nothing. That's exactly the kind of strength my brother respects."
"But marriage—"
"Is just a word until you make it real." She squeezes my hand. "And knowing my brother, he'll spend the rest of his life making it real. He doesn't do anything halfway."
The certainty in her voice makes my stomach flip with anticipation and terror in equal measure.
"I don't have anything," I whisper. "No dress, no shoes, no family to give me away—" My voice cracks.
Mila pulls me into a hug that smells like vanilla and roses. "You have me," she says firmly. "And Marie will help. And honestly, half the staff has been buzzing with gossip since you arrived. They'll be thrilled to have something to actually do with all that energy." She smiles, the edges of the bruise have lightened marginally and her eye is less swollen. The steak must have worked.
"Also, you are no one’s to give away but your own. Do you understand?" She gives my hand a firm squeeze and I nod, tears welling.
I pull back, swiping at my eyes. "What are the staff saying?"
She hesitates just long enough that I know it's not all positive.
"Some of them think you're brave," she says carefully. "Some think you're smart for getting out of a bad situation. And some..."
"Think I'm a traitor," I finish.
"Those people are idiots." Her voice hardens. "And they'll learn quickly to keep their mouths shut. You're about to become the Pakhan's wife. That makes you untouchable."
