“I believe you,” I grated out, the words tasting like ash. “I believe your father is a dead man walking, and I will be the one who kills him.”
My thumb pressed lightly against the delicate skin beneath her hairline. My voice dropped to a dangerous, unwavering monotone, replacing the strategic vows of the wedding with a personal, lethal promise.
“That ends now, Liza. All of it. The selling, the running, the fear. You listen to me, and you listen closely. You’re not going back to him. No government, no rival, no foreign buyer is touching you.”
I held her gaze, letting the raw possessiveness of my assertion sink into her soul. “You are not an asset anymore. You are my wife. You are the mother of my child. And no one else is taking you. You’re mine now. Understand?”
The words were not a question. They were a definitive, non-negotiable decree. The dominance was still there, but now it was fueled by a terrifying, absolute need to secure her safety, to claim her from the monsters, including her father, and perhaps, the monster I almost became. I needed her to accept the protection, the cage, before I could breathe again.
My hand remained clamped at the back of her neck, a guarantee of my possessive claim. I waited for her answer, watching her eyes, those sharp, intelligent windows I had tried to break since the moment I took her.
She met my stare. The tears tracked paths through the dust of her expensive makeup, but the raw terror was fading, replaced by a bleak, hard acceptance. She was calculating the odds again, and she knew the only path to safety was through me.
“I understand,” she whispered. The sound was thin, almost lost in the sterile room.
“Say it clearly, Liza,” I pressed. “Say you are mine, and you will do exactly as I command for the safety of yourself and my child.”
Her chin lifted slightly, a last flicker of her pride before the surrender. “I understand. I am yours now.”
I registered for compliance. Her words were correct. She had publicly married me, she was carrying my heir, and she needed my protection from the entire world, including her father. On paper, she was fully and irreversibly mine.
But my analytical mind, the part that saw flaws in every contract, heard the gaping, unspoken truth in her tone. The compliance was pragmatic, not personal. She belonged to me politically, legally, and physically, but her heart and her mind were still her own. That spirit, that defiant core I had tried to crush, was still locked away, untouchable.
I released the back of her neck and moved my hand to cup her cheek, my thumb brushing away a lingering tear. My voice softened, a dangerous, velvet shift in tone.
“Good. We’re clear on the logistics, then.”
“What logistics?” She challenged, finding a sliver of strength. “What do you plan to do? Put me in a tower until the baby is born? Throw me to Viktor to find out what I know?”
I shook my head, my jaw tight. “The investigation is mine now. The debt is my problem. The immediate threat to you ends right here. No one will touch you, Liza.”
I stood up, towering over her again. The entire nature of my internal resolution had shifted. The initial objectives, the Lobanov reputation, the political advantage, and the recovery of funds felt secondary, dull. The investigation, the debt, and the revenge are all secondary. The only primary objective left was the woman lying on the bed.
My focus was no longer on strategy but on ownership. Absolute, total ownership. The goal wasn’t just to secure the empire; the goal was to secure her.
“You need rest,” I stated, pulling the velvet comforter higher up to her chin, my touch surprisingly careful. “Alina will return for the test and proper care. When you wake up, we will discuss the future. Our future.”
I watched her face, searching for any sign of fear, hope, or even affection. There was only exhaustion and wariness.
I kneaded my hand into my suit pocket, my thoughts crystallizing into a single, possessive, non-negotiable vow. The marriage was sealed, the child confirmed, and the battle lines were redrawn. I had her on paper, but I knew I didn’t have her yet, not truly.
She will be mine. I turned from the bed, moving toward the window, looking out over the private grounds. I didn’t care about the world beyond the gate anymore. I had found the real prize. The obsession was complete. The transaction was over, and the personal conquest had begun. But now I plan to have all of her and only for myself.
Chapter Sixteen
Liza’s POV
He stood up, his great black suit a massive shadow that momentarily eclipsed the overhead light. His jaw was set, his gaze still distant, focused on the security measures he was running in his mind. He had just delivered the promise of protection, the terrifying, possessive decree that I was his, and now he was leaving.
A sharp, paralyzing panic seized me. The room, which had felt safe just moments ago under the sheer force of his presence, suddenly felt vast and cold. I pictured the guards outside, the blood on the marble, the news of the baby, all the massive, monumental weight of the day crashing down on me. I couldn’t face the silence. I couldn’t face the terror alone.
Roman’s dark, commanding presence, the very thing that had terrified me for weeks, was now the only anchor I had. He was solid. He was dangerous, but he was my danger. He turned toward the door, taking a slow step from the bed. “Roman,” I called out, the word a desperate plea, thin and shaky.
He paused but didn’t look back right away. Ignoring the exhaustion in my limbs, my hand shot out and clamped onto the heavy wool of his suit jacket near his hip. I pulled hard, using the last of my adrenaline to haul him back toward the bed.
He stumbled, surprised, and turned to look down at me. His eyes were dark, unreadable. I didn’t wait; I used the momentum, surging up onto my knees on the bed, and initiated a kiss. My mouth crashed against his, hard and desperate. It wasn’t tender or sweet. It was driven by the raw, animal need to feel his heat, his mass, his overwhelming reality.
He tasted of steel and regret, and for a glorious second, he responded, his strong hands cupping my face, taking the kissdeeper, letting the sharp desperation of my need fuel the fire between us.
