“Viktor’s been keeping you busy, I hear,” Matvei observed, his golden-brown eyes sharp with assessment. “How are you finding married life?”
The question carried layers of meaning. Are you happy? Are you being treated well? Do I need to kill your husband for failing to properly value what belongs to me?
“It’s been... educational,” Anka replied carefully. “Viktor runs a complex operation. There’s always something new to learn.”
Adrian’s expression darkened slightly. “I hope you’re not overwhelming her, Viktor. Anka’s always been more comfortable with quieter pursuits.”
Quieter pursuits. Like sitting prettily in golden cages and being grateful for whatever scraps of purpose the men in her life chose to throw her way.
“Actually,” Viktor said, his voice carrying that commanding edge that made conversations pause, “Anka’s been invaluable to our operations. Her analytical skills have impressed everyone she’s worked with.”
Anka blinked, startled by the unexpected praise. This had to be some kind of performance, a way to save face after his dismissal of her to Nick Barresi. Public rehabilitation to maintain the fiction that their marriage was more than a political necessity.
“She identified critical discrepancies in the Henderson shipping contracts that our legal team had missed,” Viktor continued, his tone matter-of-fact rather than condescending. “Saved us approximately two million in liability exposure.”
Matvei’s eyebrows rose slightly. “Two million? That’s... significant.”
“It was brilliant analysis,” Viktor said, and something in his voice made Anka’s pulse quicken despite her determination to remain unmoved. “The kind of strategic thinking that takesyears to develop. Though I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised—Anka’s always had an exceptional mind for complex problem-solving.”
Always had. The phrase hit her hard because it suggested knowledge that went beyond their recent professional interaction. But how could Viktor know about her analytical capabilities from before their marriage? They’d dated for months, but she’d been so careful to keep their worlds separate, to protect both of them from the complications of their family histories.
“I remember when she was seventeen,” Viktor continued, oblivious to her growing confusion, “she singlehandedly restructured her family’s charitable foundation portfolios. Identified redundancies and conflicts of interest that had been bleeding money for years.”
Anka’s blood turned to ice. She had done that—spent months reviewing financial statements and grant allocations when Adrian had been too busy with territorial disputes to pay attention to their legitimate business interests. But she’d never told Viktor about it. That project had been completed two years before they’d even met, buried in family records that only a handful of people had access to.
“And the language acquisition,” Viktor added, his attention seemingly focused on Matvei, but his words were precision-guided missiles aimed at Anka’s composure. “Fluent in four languages by twenty-one, including Mandarin and Arabic. Most people struggle with basic conversational skills in one foreign language.”
Four languages. She’d taught herself Mandarin and Arabic through online courses and library books, driven by curiosity about global markets and cultural dynamics. It wasn’tsomething she’d advertised—her brothers had always been dismissive of intellectual pursuits that didn’t directly serve family interests.
But Viktor knew. Somehow, impossibly, Viktor knew about achievements she’d never shared with anyone outside her immediate family.
“She’s also been teaching herself coding,” Viktor continued, his voice carrying genuine admiration that made her chest tighten painfully. “Python and SQL, primarily. Self-directed learning that most computer science graduates would struggle with.”
The coding. Late nights in her room, working through programming tutorials because she’d been fascinated by data analysis and wanted to understand the tools that could transform raw information into strategic advantages. Another secret pursuit that she’d never mentioned to anyone.
“Viktor,” she said quietly, her voice carefully controlled despite the earthquake happening beneath her skin. “You’re being too generous.”
“Am I?” He turned to look at her directly for the first time all evening, his ice-blue eyes intense with something she couldn’t identify. “Because from where I stand, I’m simply acknowledging accomplishments that speak for themselves.”
The conversation continued around them, but Anka couldn’t focus on the words. Her mind was reeling with the implications of Viktor’s knowledge, with the casual way he’d recited achievements she’d never shared with him. How long had he been watching her? What else did he know about her carefully guarded private pursuits?
More importantly, why had he been paying attention at all? During their relationship, she’d been so focused onkeeping their worlds separate that she’d never considered he might be conducting his own investigation into her background. But the details he’d just shared weren’t the kind of surface-level information that casual surveillance would reveal—they required deep research, sustained observation, genuine interest in who she was beyond her last name and family connections.
The rest of the evening passed in a blur of forced smiles and polite conversation. Anka moved through the social choreography on autopilot, her mind spinning with questions she couldn’t ask and implications she didn’t want to examine. Every time she caught Viktor’s eye across the room, she saw something that looked almost like regret, as if he’d revealed more than he’d intended.
By the time they made their excuses and headed home, Anka felt as though she was vibrating with suppressed tension from the inside out. The silence in the car was suffocating, heavy with unspoken questions and the weight of revelations that shifted the entire foundation of what she thought she knew about their relationship.
“What game are you playing?” she asked the moment they walked through the mansion’s front door, her carefully maintained composure finally cracking under the pressure.
Viktor paused in removing his jacket, his movements deliberately casual. “I’m not sure what you mean.”
“The performance tonight. The praise, the detailed knowledge of my academic achievements, the casual mention of projects I never told you about.” She stepped closer, her voice rising with each word. “What’s the angle, Viktor? What are you trying to accomplish?”
“I was acknowledging your capabilities—”
“Bullshit.” The word cracked like a whip in the marble foyer. “You were performing. Just like with Nick Barresi, except tonight’s audience was my family instead of a potential threat.”
Viktor’s expression darkened, his carefully maintained distance finally showing cracks. “You think this was a performance?”
