"You need me to backdate your wedding certificate," Vitali mutters, narrowing his eyes.
"Don’t act like you can’t do it," I counter. "I needed a wife. She needed protection. It works."
"Do you even know what you’re getting into?" Vitali demands at Florrie who replies with a gurgle of laughter. Vitali turns back to me. "Does she understand what it means to be a Dubovich wife? The scrutiny, the danger, the expectations?"
"She will learn."
"Leon—"
"Enough." Yury's voice isn't loud, but it stops Vitali mid-sentence. My uncle's eyes fix on me, weighing, measuring. "You are certain about this?"
"Yes," I say.
"She could have been planted," Vitali argues. "She could be working for someone—"
Florrie snorts and downs the rest of her drink.
"She's not," I say flatly. "I've already had Slav run a preliminary check. Florrie Cassel, twenty-two, works as a paralegal at Morrison & Associates. Lives alone in a studio apartment in the city. No criminal record, no connections to any rival organizations. She's exactly what she appears to be…a woman who made a wrong turn."
"And you trust her?"
I turn to her and think about the fear in her eyes. The way she agreed to stay despite everything. The stubborn set of her jaw when she told my uncle she could speak for herself.
"I do," I say.
Yury nods slowly. "Then you have my blessing."
Vitali looks like he wants to argue, but he knows better than to contradict our uncle. Instead, he turns to me, his expression hard.
"If this goes sideways—"
"It won't."
"If it does," he continues, "you're responsible. For her, for any fallout, for any complications this causes the family."
"I know."
He stares at me for another long moment, then shakes his head. "Congratulations, brother. You're even crazier than Avros."
Coming from Vitali, that might actually be a compliment.
Yury stands, adjusting his cufflinks. "Bring her to the main house tomorrow," he instructs. "For dinner. The family should meet her properly."
My stomach sinks slightly. "Yury—"
"Tomorrow, Leon." His tone leaves no room for argument. "If she is to be a Dubovich wife, she needs to understand what that means. And the family needs to see that you are serious about fulfilling the mandate."
He's right. I know he's right.
But the thought of throwing Florrie into the deep end of Dubovich family politics less than twenty-four hours after she witnessed an arms deal makes something protective twist in my gut.
"Tomorrow," I agree reluctantly.
Yury nods and heads for the door. Vitali lingers a moment longer.
"I mean it," he says quietly. "If you're going to do this, you protect her. From everything. Including us."
I meet my brother's eyes. "I will."
