"Can't I?" I shouldn't have said it—shouldn't have let her see how deep this went. But the words escaped before I could stop them, raw and honest and damning.
She jerked her hand away like I'd burned her. "You're insane."
"Perhaps." I rose to my feet, putting distance between us before I did something truly unforgivable. "But you're still alive. And tomorrow, and the day after, and every day until this is over, you'll still be alive. That's all that matters to me."
"It should matter what I want."
"It does." I moved toward the door, pausing with my hand on the frame. "Eat something, Gabrielle. Rest. Tomorrow I'll give you a tour of the grounds, show you the boundaries of your world here. It's not as small as you think."
"It's still a prison."
I didn't deny it. There was no point.
"Goodnight," I said, and left her sitting in the moonlight, her untouched food growing cold beside her.
***
The call came at two in the morning.
I was in my study, unable to sleep, staring at security footage I'd already memorized. Gabrielle had finally eaten—just a few bites of bread and cheese, but it was something. Now she was lying on the bed, curled on her side, either sleeping or pretending to.
The phone shattered the silence, and I grabbed it before the second ring. Semyon's number.
"What?"
"Pankratov knows." My brother's voice was tight with tension. "She's been reported missing in New York—her friend filed a police report this morning. And our sources say the Armenians are going crazy trying to figure out where she went."
I leaned back in my chair, processing. "They know I took her."
"They suspect. They can't prove it, but they're not stupid. The timing is too convenient." A pause. "They're making noise, Vasily. Threatening retaliation." Semyon exhaled heavily. "There's talk of escalating. Hitting our operations harder. Maybe going after other targets—people actually connected to us."
"Let them try."
"This isn't sustainable." His voice sharpened with frustration. "You can't keep her hidden forever. Eventually, the authorities will get involved. Her family, her friends—someone will start asking questions you can't answer."
He was right. I knew he was right. The current situation was a holding pattern, not a solution. Sooner or later, I'd have to decide what to do with her—release her, hide her more permanently, or...
The thought crystallized slowly, taking shape like ice forming on a winter pond.
"There's another option," I said.
"What option?"
"Marriage."
Silence on the other end. Then: "You can't be serious."
"If she's my wife, she's protected. Legally, socially, in every way that matters. No one touches the wife of Vasily Chernov—not Pankratov, not the authorities, not anyone. Itwould bind her to me publicly, irrevocably. It would make her untouchable."
"It would also make her a permanent part of your life. Of our life." Semyon's voice was careful, probing. "Is that what you want?"
I looked at the monitor, at the woman sleeping in my guest room. The woman who hated me, feared me, would probably fight me every step of the way.
The woman I couldn't imagine letting go.
"Yes," I said. "That's exactly what I want."
"She'll never agree."
