Menlow is home early.
I don’t turn around as his footsteps approach. Don’t acknowledge him even when he stops a few feet behind me.
“Beautiful view,” he comments.
“I suppose.”
“You suppose?” There’s amusement in his voice. “Most people would kill for this view.”
“Most people aren’t being held here against their will.”
“You’re not being held against your will. You’re free to leave whenever you want.”
I spin to face him. “And go where? Back to my apartment, where your enemies might kick down the door? That’s not freedom. That’s a different kind of prison.”
“I understand your frustration—”
“Do you?” I step toward him. “Because from where I’m standing, you’ve taken everything from me. My job. My home. My independence. You’ve turned my entire life upside down, and you expect me to just accept it because you claim you’re protecting me.”
He lets me finish. When I’m done, he simply nods.
“You’re right. I’ve asked a lot of you. More than I had any right to ask.”
That takes the wind out of my sails. I expected him to argue. Defend himself. Remind me why his actions were justified.
I didn’t expect him to agree.
“This Saturday,” he continues, “my family is having a gathering. My siblings, my cousins, their families. I’d like you to come.”
I stare at him. “What?”
“A gathering. At my cousin Konstantin’s estate. It’s a monthly thing. Nothing formal.”
“I’m not your family.”
“You’re my wife.”
“On paper. We signed a marriage license. There was no ceremony, no vows, no—”
“Paper is enough.” He moves past me to the bar and pours himself a drink. “If you’re introduced to them—if they know you’re under my protection—it expands your safety net. Even when I’m not around, you’ll have the entire Karpov family watching out for you.”
“I don’t need the entire Karpov family watching out for me.”
“You do, actually.” He turns back to face me. “The Volkovs aren’t going to forget what I did. They’ll retaliate eventually. When they do, I want you surrounded by people who will protect you with their lives.”
“People I’ve never met.”
“That’s why you’ll meet on Saturday.” He takes a sip. “Unless you’d prefer to remain vulnerable.”
It’s manipulation. Plain and simple. He knows exactly which buttons to push.
The worst part? It’s working.
“I don’t have anything to wear to something like that,” I point out.
Menlow’s mouth curves. “Is that your only objection?”
“It’s a valid objection. I can’t show up to meet your Bratva family in a Target dress and clearance rack heels.”
