"Get some rest. Both of you." She glanced between us with something that might have been amusement. "You're going to need it. Once word gets out about this, things are going to get interesting."
She left with the judge and the witnesses, and suddenly we were alone. Husband and wife. Two strangers bound together by paperwork and desperation.
Rodion moved to the bar cart in the corner and poured two glasses of vodka. He handed one to me without asking if I wanted it. I took it without protest.
"To interesting times," he said, raising his glass.
I clinked mine against his. "To survival."
We drank in silence, standing in his study as the afternoon light faded to evening. I was acutely aware of his presence beside me—the solid bulk of him, the coiled tension beneath his calm exterior. My husband. The word felt foreign, impossible, like a language I'd never learned.
"The guest room is still yours," he said. "For as long as you want it. Nothing changes tonight."
"Thank you."
"Unless you want it to change."
I looked at him. He was watching me with that intensity I'd come to recognize, the one that made me feel seen in ways I wasn't sure I wanted.
"Not tonight," I said.
He nodded, no disappointment visible in his expression. "Then I'll say goodnight."
"Goodnight."
He left me alone in his study, surrounded by his books and his expensive furniture and the lingering scent of his cologne. I finished my vodka and poured another, staring out the window at the city below.
Keira Rysev. That was my name now. A name I'd never asked for, attached to a family I'd never wanted, belonging to a man I barely knew.
But I was alive. And I was safe. And for now, that had to be enough.
I touched my ring finger—bare, because we hadn't exchanged rings, because this wasn't that kind of marriage—and wondered what tomorrow would bring.
Whatever it was, I'd face it as I'd faced everything else in my life.
Alone.
Except I wasn't alone anymore, was I? For better or worse, I had a husband now. A family. A target on my back and a shield in front of me.
I finished my second vodka and went to my room—my room, in my husband's penthouse, in my new life—and lay down on the bed without undressing.
Sleep didn't come for a long time.
Chapter 11 - Rodion
I woke at five, having slept perhaps two hours.
The penthouse was silent, the city still dark beyond the windows. I lay in bed and stared at the ceiling and thought about the woman sleeping three rooms away. My wife. The word still felt foreign, ill-fitted to the reality of our situation.
Keira Rysev. She probably hadn't slept either.
I gave up on rest and went to the kitchen, made coffee, and settled into my study to wait for the fallout. It came faster than expected.
Gleb called at six. "Word's out."
"How far?"
"Far enough. Cormac knows. He's been making calls all night—screaming at anyone who'll listen that you've stolen his property." A pause. "His word, not mine."
