The thought is immediate and absolute.
Whatever I have to do to protect her, I'll do it. From Valentin, from anyone who might see her as a weakness to exploit.
From my own family, if necessary.
Vitali's warning echoes in my head:If you're going to do this, you protect her. From everything. Including us.
He's right. The Dubovich family is dangerous in ways Florrie can't begin to comprehend yet. The politics, the power plays, the casual violence that underlies every interaction.
Tomorrow, I'm taking her to dinner at the main house. Introducing her to Yury and Sophia, to whoever else shows up. Throwing her into the deep end of family politics and expectations.
The thought makes my jaw clench.
She's not ready for that. Hell, she's barely ready forme.
But Yury was right, if she's going to be a Dubovich wife, she needs to understand what that means. Needs to meet the family, learn the rules, find her place in the hierarchy.
Needs to see what she's really signed up for.
My thumb traces slow circles on the back of her hand, and I feel her fingers relax slightly under mine.
Maybe it won't be as bad as I think. Sophia will help, she was in a similar position not that long ago, claimed by Yury to settle a debt. If anyone can guide Florrie through this transition, it's her. And Charlotte. Vitali's wife came into this world knowing exactly what she was getting into, but she's adapted well. She'll understand what Florrie needs.
The thought eases something in my gut.
She won't be alone in this. I'll make sure of that.
Florrie shifts against me, making a small sound that's almost a whimper. Her hand tightens in my shirt again, and I realize she's dreaming.
"Shh," I murmur, running my hand up and down her spine the way I did earlier. "You're safe."
She settles immediately, melting back into sleep.
The response makes something warm unfurl in my chest. The beginning of something much bigger than I’d anticipated.
She trusts me enough to sleep in my arms. To let me hold her while she's at her most vulnerable. It's more than I expected. More than I had any right to hope for.
I lean my head back against the headboard and close my eyes, cataloging the sensation of her against me. The weight of her.The warmth. The way her breath ghosts across my neck with each exhale.
This could be good, I think. If I do this right. If I give her time to adjust, to understand that I'm not the enemy. If I show her that being mine doesn't have to mean losing herself.
We could build something real here.
Not just a transaction to fulfill a mandate. Not just a marriage to secure the family line.
Somethingours.
I've spent eight years being cold, calculating, untouchable. Building walls so high and thick that nothing could get through. Maybe it's time to let someone in.
It's time to be something other than an enforcer and procurement specialist. The problem solver. The man who deals in weapons and information and has ice in his veins.
With her, I can be me. The man who holds her when she cries. Who kisses her like she's oxygen. Who would burn down the world to keep her safe.
Tomorrow, everything changes. Tomorrow, she meets the family and this becomes real in ways that can't be undone. But tonight, in this room, with her sleeping in my arms, I let myself hope.
Hope that she'll forgive me for trapping her. Hope that she'll see past the circumstances to what we could be. Hope that when she looks at me, eventually she'll see something other than fear.
Outside, the sky is beginning to lighten. Dawn coming whether we're ready or not.
