Eva stands in the living room, her back to me as she stares out the floor-to-ceiling windows at the estate grounds. She's wearing one of the new dresses I had delivered, a soft cream color that hugs her body in ways that make my hands itch to touch. Her blonde hair is loose around her shoulders for once, not pulled back in that severe bun she favors for work. The afternoon light catches the strands, making them shine like gold.
My cock hardens despite the circumstances and I imagine walking up behind her, sliding my hands around her waist, pulling her back against me so she can feel exactly what she does to me. I imagine pushing that dress up her thighs, discovering what she's wearing underneath, making her gasp my name against the window.
Focus, you fool.
"Eva." My voice comes out rougher than I intend. "You wanted to see me?"
She turns, and I'm struck again by how beautiful she is—brown eyes that see too much, lips that I've memorized the taste of, the slight swell of her belly where our child grows. She doesn't look afraid, doesn't ask where I've been or what I've been doing. Instead, her expression is determined, almost defiant.
"We're throwing a Halloween party," she announces. "Day after tomorrow. Here at the estate."
The request is so unexpected that I simply stare at her. A party? Now? With everything happening—Abram circling like a shark, Tyler Chen bleeding in my basement—she wants to throw a fucking Halloween party?
"A party," I repeat slowly, trying to understand.
"Yes." Eva's chin lifts with that stubborn pride I both love and want to crush. "For Alexei. He's new to America, doesn't know anyone. He needs normalcy and connection. And you need to dress up too."
The absurdity of it hits me. Eva demanding that I, the Pakhan, wear a costume like some child playing dress-up. I should refuse, should tell her it's impossible, that I have moreimportant things to worry about than Halloween parties. But something about her determination, the fierce protectiveness in her eyes when she mentions her brother, makes me pause.
"I don't do costumes," I say, my voice flat.
"You do now." She moves closer, and I catch the scent of her perfume, that light floral scent that's become as familiar as breathing. "Alexei is sixteen, Roman. He's in a foreign country, living in a house with armed guards, and watching his sister marry a man he doesn't fully understand. He needs this. He needs to feel like a normal teenager for one night."
She's close enough now that I could reach out and touch her, could pull her against me and kiss away her demands. My gaze drops to her breasts, noticing how they're fuller now with the pregnancy, straining slightly against the fabric of her dress. I imagine cupping them, feeling their weight, making her arch into my touch.
"And if I refuse?" I ask, though we both know I'm not going to.
Eva's lips curve into a small smile, the first genuine one I've seen from her in days. "Then I'll be very disappointed."
I study her face, seeing the hope beneath her determination, the way she's trying so hard to create normalcy in the chaos I've brought into her life.
"Fine," I hear myself say. "A Halloween party. With costumes."
Her shock is almost comical—brown eyes widening, lips parting in surprise. She clearly expected more resistance, more negotiation. "Really? Just like that?"
"Just like that." I step closer, crowding into her space, watching her breath catch.
Then I step back before I do something stupid like bend her over the couch and remind her exactly whom she belongs to. Eva's cheeks are flushed, her breathing rapid, and I see her press her thighs together slightly—a tell that she's aroused, that she wants me as much as I want her.
"Thank you," she says softly, her brown eyes meeting mine with something that looks almost like affection. "This means a lot to Alexei. To me."
The smile she gives me then is genuine and warm and nearly stops my heart. For that smile, I'd agree to far more than a ridiculous costume. I'd give her anything, do anything, be anything she needs me to be.
Fuck, I'm in deep.
"Go plan your party," I tell her, my voice rougher than I intend. "I have business to finish."
Eva nods and leaves, her hips swaying in that unconscious way that makes my cock throb. I watch until she disappears up the stairs, then turn back toward the basement, my mind already shifting gears from fiancé to Pakhan.
Tyler is exactly where I left him, trembling in the chair, his face a mess of tears and blood. Lev stands near the table, his expression questioning as I enter. He's waiting for orders, waiting to know if we're going to continue the interrogation or end it permanently.
I study the boy. He knows too much to simply release. But killing him would destroy whatever fragile trust Eva is beginning to show.
There's a third option. One that keeps him contained but alive, that protects my organization while preserving my marriage.
"Keep him here," I say, my voice cold and final. "Comfortable but confined. Move him to one of the basement guest rooms—bed, bathroom, television. But no computers, no phones, no contact with the outside world. Guards posted outside his door at all times."
Lev's eyebrow raises. "For how long?"
