Her voice breaks completely, and she starts crying in earnest. I move toward her, but she holds up her hand.
"Don't," she says through her tears. "Don't come near me."
I stop, respecting her boundary for now. For a moment, we stare at each other across the bed.
"We can't go back to Russia yet," I say finally, changing the subject.
She blinks, confused through her tears. "What?"
"I got word from my sources. Your father set a trap. He knows I'm here in Germany. If I go back now, I'm walking straight into an ambush."
"Good," she says bitterly, wiping at her face. "Maybe he'll kill you and end this nightmare." I smile despite myself. "You don't mean that."
"Yes, I do."
"No, you don't. Because if I died, you'd be devastated. Admit it." She glares at me but doesn't respond, which is answer enough.
"We'll stay here for a week," I continue, as if we're discussing vacation plans. "Maybe two. Until I can figure out how to handle the property situation and the handover. Once that's done, we'll go to Russia. And we'll get married."
"Married?" she repeats, her voice going high with disbelief. "You think I'm going to marry you?"
"Yes."
"You're delusional."
"Not if it's going to be your reality." I respond.
She stands up, pacing the room like a caged animal. "I need to leave. I need to get out of here."
"You can't."
"Why not?"
"Because the doors are locked. The windows are reinforced. And there are guards everywhere. You're not going anywhere, Iris." She spins around, her eyes wild with panic. "So what? I'm your prisoner now?"
"You're my guest," I correct. "A very well-taken-care-of guest."
"A prisoner," she insists. I stand up, walking toward her slowly. She backs away until she hits the wall.
"Look around, angel," I say, gesturing to the room. "This house is beautiful. It's big. You have everything you could possibly need. Security. Comfort. Me."
"I don't want you," she whispers.
"Yes, you do," I say, leaning in close enough to feel her breath. "You just don't want to admit it."
"We're toxic," she says again, like it's a mantra. It probably is. It probably is the only thing keeping her from being with me. "We'll destroy each other."
"Then we'll burn together," I say. "I don't care. As long as we're together."
"You want to kill my family," she says, fresh tears streaming down her face. "You've said it. Multiple times. You've tried to kill my father. How am I supposed to be with someone who wants to destroy everyone I love?"
"I'll make an exception," I say. "For you."
"An exception?"
"I won't kill them," I say, meaning it. "As long as they don't try to take you away from me. And accept that you're mine. I'll leave them alone."
She stares at me, searching my face for the lie. "You're lying."
