“I need to see my siblings,” I say abruptly. “Julian and Lila. They need to know I’m okay, that I haven’t been kidnapped or murdered or whatever else they might be imagining.”
His expression turns serious. “That wasn’t part of our arrangement.”
“Well, I’m arranging it now.” I shift to face him fully. “Look, I just found out I was married off so you could tick a box on Daddy’s inheritance plan. The least you can do is let me see my family.”
“They’re fine,” he says dismissively. “I’ve had people watching them.”
“You’ve—” I stop, the words catching in my throat. “You’ve been having my brother and sister watched?”
“Of course. They’re your family. That makes them potential leverage against you.” He says this like he’s explaining that water is wet, a simple fact requiring no moral evaluation.
“That’s—that’s not how normal people think!”
“I’m not normal people.” His gaze fixes on mine. “And neither are you, not anymore.”
Something about the way he says it—not a threat but a simple truth—makes my stomach twist. Because he’s right. I’m not normal Isabella Marquez anymore. I’m Isabella Belov, wife of a man who casually admits to surveillance as if it’s a courtesy.
“Lila has a science fair,” I say, softer now. “And Her volcano isn’t working. She needs me.”
Konstantin studies me for a long moment, his face unreadable. “You care about them. Deeply.”
“Of course I do. They’re my family.”
“And this science fair is important.”
“Yes.”
He nods once, decision made. “Tomorrow. Four hours, supervised. My security team will remain at a distance.”
I should argue for more time, less supervision. I should demand rather than accept. But I’m too relieved to push.
“Thank you.”
“Does that satisfy you?” he asks, and there’s something in his tone that makes the question sound like it’s about more than just seeing my siblings.
“For now,” I answer truthfully.
His lips curve slightly. “A negotiator. My father would approve, despite his reservations.”
“Your father doesn’t approve of anything about me.”
“He doesn’t need to.” Konstantin’s hand moves, almost reaches for mine, then retreats. “I made my choice.”
The simple declaration hangs between us, loaded with meanings I can’t quite untangle. Before I can respond,something outside the window catches my attention. We’re turning onto a street I don’t recognize—definitely not the route to Elite Properties.
“Where are we going?” I ask, peering out at unfamiliar buildings. “This isn’t the way to the office.”
Konstantin returns to his phone, supremely unconcerned.
“I’ve decided to relocate Elite Properties.”
“You’ve what?”
“Your office. I’ve moved it. The old location was…” he pauses, searching for the word, “inefficient.”
“You can’t just—” I stop, staring at him in disbelief. “Actually, you can, can’t you? Because you own it now. You own everything.”
Including me, hangs unspoken between us.
