“It wasn’t even getting traction.” Jordan’s voice is tiny and a little high-pitched, the shock very real. “How did you even find it?”
“Manifest Dailydid a roundup of new wellness voices. You were number three.” Valeria’s still gesturing and chattering nonstop, like this is the most natural thing in the world. “Also,your shark energy episode? Genius, Jordan. So visual and fierce. I kept thinking about it for days.”
Shark energy? That has to be a new one.
Jordan glances over Valeria’s shoulder at me, her eyes wide.
It’s almost funny, how much wonder and disbelief can fit on a single face. She’s bright, her cheeks flushed and her movements loose and easy. Glowing, even. And she’s barely in the house.
I hang back. Let them go ahead.
I know every inch of this compound, every turn, every security camera, every hidden blind spot.
It’s a place to regroup, to heal, to prep for what comes next. But following them, seeing this estate through fresh eyes?
It’s suddenly unfamiliar. The lines harsher. The marble colder. All the glass and stone and perfect symmetry looks less like a home and more like a cage I never realized I was living in.
But even as I see the place with a new perspective, Jordan’s presence washes over it. She warms the floors and walls and tints the air with a rush of lavender.
Valeria sweeps us into the east salon, the one with the big windows and the view of the inner courtyard. We often use this room for meetings and to show allies just how much power the Kozlovs have. The privacy is absolute. The walls are too high for anyone to see over, the greenery trimmed so no threat could hide.
Jordan stops walking and just stares out at the courtyard. “Ooh.” She presses up to the glass, both hands on the cool surface. “That would be a perfect spot for yoga.”
Valeria spins around, hope gleaming in her eyes. “You teach yoga? With energy work?” Her voice almost squeaks. “I would love that. The trainer here only does high-intensity stuff that seriously wrecks me. But, say, flow yoga… I’d get out of bed for that.”
Jordan laughs without hesitation. “Absolutely. Sunrise out there would be unreal.”
I take them in.
It’s like watching two separate timelines collide and blend into something new. “I don’t understand what’s happening.” My words come out rough, too loud in the quiet.
The women turn.
Jordan’s smile is private, her gaze fond. “You don’t have to understand everything. Sometimes you just feel it.” Her eyes dart over Valeria’s shoulder.
The atmosphere shifts again.
A presence, palpable and immediate, fills the doorway. Even Valeria falls quiet and subtly adjusts her posture. She might be a princess, but she’s lived here her whole life and can read a room and recognize the change in air pressure.
Roman appears like a conjured shadow, his silver-edged hair glinting in the light, his bearing settling over the whole room. The type of authority you can feel in your pulse.
He steps forward.
“Jordan Thorne.” Roman’s voice vibrates with not-quite-pride. He doesn’t just shake her hand. He takes it in both of his, like he’s staking a claim. “Welcome to my home.” He offers her a careful, genuine smile. The kind a man gives while debating whether you’re worth the risk.
“Thanks for having me.” Jordan stands her ground. “Your aura is incredible. Strong. Familial and paternal.”
Oh. Fuck.
I’ve gone rigid, waiting to see how Roman reacts. After all, he’s the one who will set the precedent with everyone else.
Valeria claps, beaming at her uncle. “See? What did I tell you? She’s a natural. A genius. Sees right through to the heart of things.”
Roman’s eyes flicker with amusement, maybe even relief. “You did indeed.” He glances over at me, his eyes softer than I expected. “She’s everything you promised, Kirill. And more.”
I don’t recall ever promising anything, but I nod anyway. I’m too relieved to do anything else.
Roman’s hand lands on my shoulder in reassurance. “My home is yours, Jordan.” He turns to Valeria. “Show her around.”
