“I got married.”
His brows lift—but his face stays carefully steady. “To who?”
I glance around the courtyard like Konstantin might step out from behind the statue of Saint Benedict and light a cigar.
“His name is Konstantin Belov.”
Lila stops humming.
Crap.
She looks up, eyes wide. “Wait…what?”
“I was going to tell you both—”
“When?” Julian cuts in. “After the wedding? Oh, wait.”
“I’m sorry,” I say. “It happened fast. Too fast. And I know I should’ve told you sooner, but—”
“Did he make you?” he asks, sharp.
“No.” I meet his eyes. “It was my choice.”
A beat of silence.
Then Lila: “Is he nice?”
I blink. “Definenice.”
She tilts her head. “Like… does he kill people?”
Julian groans. “Lila.”
“What? We’re at a school with bodyguards and facial recognition scanners. I’m just asking the real questions.”
I rub my face. “I don’t think he kills people on weekdays.”
Julian’s not laughing. Not even smiling. He’s still watching me, expression unreadable.
“I did this for us,” I say. “To protect the house. To make sure you both had a future. He’s in real estate. We met through work. He—he helped with some legal stuff.”
Lie. Partial truth. Defense mechanism. Repeat.
“Real estate?” Lila blinks. “Like flipping houses or… like… Bond villain compound real estate?”
“He owns a company,” I mutter. “Several.”
Julian stares for a second too long.
Then, deadly serious: “Are you pregnant?”
I choke.
Actually choke.
Croissant flakes shoot out like confetti. “What?!”
Julian’s eyebrows shoot up. He leans back, blinking like he misheard, then lets out a short, disbelieving laugh—no humor in it.
