Both of them stop when they see Florrie.
She's standing now, the vodka glass clutched in both hands, trying very hard not to look as terrified as I know she is.
"Leon." Vitali's voice is carefully neutral. "Who is this?"
I move to Florrie's side, my hand finding the small of her back. She startles slightly but doesn't pull away.
"This is Florrie Cassel," I say. "My wife."
The silence that follows is absolute.
Vitali's eyebrows rise incrementally. Yury just stares at me, his expression unreadable.
Then my uncle laughs.
It's a rough, rusty sound, like he doesn't do it often. Which he doesn't.
"Your wife," he repeats, his accent thicker than mine. "When did this happen?"
"Tonight."
"Tonight." Vitali is the one who speaks now, his tone sharp. "You got married tonight. Without telling anyone. Without—"
"I told you I had news about the mandate," I interrupt. "This is it."
Yury moves closer, his eyes fixed on Florrie. She shrinks back slightly, and my hand presses more firmly against her spine. Keeping her steady. Keeping her close.
"She is very young," Yury observes.
"Twenty-two," Florrie says suddenly. Her voice is quiet but clear. "I'm twenty-two."
All eyes turn to her.
She lifts her chin, meeting my uncle's gaze with more courage than most men show. "And I can speak for myself."
A smile tugs at the corner of Yury's mouth. "I see that." He glances at me. "Where did you find her?"
"The club," I say. Which is technically true.
"And she agreed to marry you just like that?" Vitali's skepticism is obvious. "Within hours of meeting you?"
"The circumstances were... unusual," I say carefully. “But then yours with Charlotte weren’t entirely usual…”
"Leon." Yury's voice cuts through the tension. He settles into one of my armchairs like he owns the place. Which, technically, he does. "Please explain."
So I do.
I tell them about the arms deal with Valentin. About the door opening. About Florrie stumbling into the middle of it all. About the guns pointed at her and the split-second decision I made.
I don't tell them about the way my chest tightened when I saw her. About the strange certainty that settled over me when I called her my wife. About how she fits against my side like she was always meant to be there.
Some things they don't need to know.
When I finish, Vitali is pacing. Yury is still seated, his fingers steepled beneath his chin.
"So, you claimed her to save her life," Vitali summarizes. "And now you're actually going to marry her."
"Yes," I say. "But I need your help with the paperwork, I need to backdate it a month or so."
