“About the fact that I’m losing my fucking mind in this house. I need to get out, Viktor. I need to do something, go somewhere, have a life that doesn’t revolve around avoiding you.”
“The security situation—”
“Is manageable. I’m not asking to wander around the city alone and unprotected. I’m asking for the freedom to leave this compound occasionally without it turning into a federal fucking case.”
He leaned back in his chair, studying her with those unreadable blue eyes. “What are you proposing?”
“I want to go out. Shopping, museums, coffee shops, I don’t care. But I want to do it without feeling like I’m escaping from prison or betraying some unspoken agreement between us.” She took a deep breath, steadying herself for his reaction. “I’m willing to have a bodyguard if that makes you feel better about it. Someone professional, someone whose job it is to keep me safe instead of control my movements.”
Viktor was quiet for a long moment, considering. She could practically see him weighing the pros and cons, calculating the risks and benefits as if she were a business investment rather than his wife.
“Fine,” he said finally.
“Fine?”
“You can go out. With protection.” He closed his laptop and stood up. “Give me a few minutes to make some arrangements.”
Relief flooded through her, so intense she felt dizzy. “Thank you. Really, Viktor, I appreciate—”
“Don’t read too much into it,” he said curtly. “This is about practicality, not sentiment.”
The words stung, but she refused to let him see it. “Of course. I wouldn’t want to mistake your basic human decency for actual caring.”
He flinched slightly at that, but didn’t respond. Instead, he walked past her toward the door.
“I’ll be back in a few minutes,” he said. “Be ready to go.”
She spent the next twenty minutes getting ready, selecting a simple yet elegant outfit that would suit whatever they ended up doing. She was just touching up her lipstick when Viktor knocked on her door.
“Ready?” he asked when she opened it.
She nodded, expecting to see one of his security men waiting in the hallway behind him. Instead, it was just Viktor, dressed casually in dark jeans and a gray sweater that made his eyes look like winter storms.
“Where’s my bodyguard?” she asked.
A slow smile spread across his face, the first genuine expression she’d seen from him all week. “You’re looking at him.”
“Viktor, that’s not what I meant—”
“Too bad. If you want to get out of the house, you can have me as your escort. Take it or leave it.”
She should have argued, should have insisted on someone else, anyone else. Being alone with Viktor outside the compound was dangerous in ways that had nothing to do with physical safety.
But she was so desperate for freedom, so tired of feeling trapped and isolated, that she didn’t care about the risks.
“Fine,” she said, grabbing her purse. “But I’m choosing where we go.”
“Deal.”
As they walked toward the garage, she caught him watching her out of the corner of his eye. There was something different about his expression, less guarded than it had been all week.
“Why?” she asked as he held open the passenger door of his sleek black Audi.
“Why what?”
“Why are you doing this? Yesterday, you could barely look at me, and now you’re volunteering to be my personal bodyguard?”
Viktor was quiet until they were both in the car, the engine purring to life around them.
