“Pakhan,” I correct. “Not yet, but soon.”
“What does that even mean?” The panic is subsiding, replaced by something else. Curiosity. Wariness.
“It means you stand at my side.” I trace my finger along the line of her jaw. “You run our home. You help raise my children—for a limited time. You attend certain functions. You look beautiful and intimidating and completely devoted to me.”
“And in private?”
My lips curve. “In private, you’re still mine. Just… differently.”
Her pulse jumps under my fingers, where they rest against her throat.
“I’m not sleeping with you.”
“The contract says otherwise.”
“The contract mentions ‘physical intimacy as mutually agreed upon,’” she quotes, eyes narrowing. “I’m not agreeing.”
“You will.” I brush my thumb across her lower lip, watching her pupils dilate. “You already did, that night in my bedroom. When you thought no one was watching.”
She freezes. The color rushes back to her face, spreading down her neck and across her chest.
“You can’t prove you actually saw anything,” she whispers.
“I have it on camera.”
Her eyes widen in genuine horror. “You filmed me?”
“My security system filmed an intruder.” I lean closer until my lips brush her ear. “Who broke into my home. Went through my things. Then pleasured herself on my bed while looking at my portrait.”
She makes a small, choked sound.
“I should have had you arrested.” My fingers thread through her hair, carefully avoiding the pins holding her updo in place. “Instead, I married you. I’d say that makes me rather generous.”
“Fuck you,” she breathes, but there’s no venom behind it. Just heat.
“Soon,” I promise.
Color blooms high on her cheekbones. Her mouth opens, then shuts again—like her brain short-circuited mid-comeback.
The terrace doors open behind us. Arseny steps out, face carefully blank.
“Boss. Time for the next toast.”
I don’t look away from Bella’s flushed face. “We’ll be right there.”
He nods once and retreats, closing the doors behind him.
Bella exhales, shoulders slumping slightly. “Those people in there… they all know what you are, don’t they?”
“Yes.”
“And now they think they know what I am, too.”
“They think you’re mine.” I straighten, offering her my arm. “They’re right.”
She stares at my extended arm for a long moment, something complicated passing across her face. Then, slowly, she places her hand in the crook of my elbow.
“Just so we’re clear,” she says, voice steadier now, “I’m doing this for Julian and Lila. Not for you.”
