"I don't care that she's not a virgin. I care that I'm the reason she isn't."
Liam stares at me. Then he laughs, disbelieving. "You're terrifying. You know that, right?"
"I've been told."
"And you think the council will approve the match? A Savitsky daughter to the Irish branch of the Orlovs?"
"The council wants stability. The Savitsky’s want an alliance that keeps them inside the power structure. And Tanya needs a husband who won't try to make her into something she's not." I lean forward. "I'm the only option that works for everyone."
"Convenient," Liam says drily.
"Strategic," I correct.
He shakes his head again, but this time there's something like respect in it. Maybe resignation. He knows me well enough to understand that when I've decided, the conversation is already over.
"Fine," he says. "I'll back you with the family. But Aidan, if she says no — "
"She won't say no. She'll say yes and hate herself for it. And then I’ll make her realize there's nothing to hate."
"Because you're such a catch?" Killian deadpans.
"Because I'm the man she chose to ruin her."
Liam shakes his head from side to side. "I give it a week before she tries to poison you."
"I'll keep that in mind."
He grins. That easy, dangerous Liam grin that means he's about to say something he thinks is funny, and I'll think is irritating.
"Don't fuck this up. I'm not explaining to Ma why you got your heart broken by a Russian ice queen."
I don't smile. But something shifts in my chest. Something that's been wound tight for two years and is now, finally, starting to loosen.
"I won't," I say.
I've waited too long to get this wrong.
Tanya
My father calls me into his study at seven in the evening, which means its bad news.
Good news comes over dinner. Neutral news comes in passing, a sentence dropped between rooms like it barely matters. But the study, with its heavy door and the smell of old leather and whiskey, is where Alber Savitsky delivers the things he knows I won't want to hear.
I smooth my hands down the front of my dress before I knock. A habit I've never been able to break. Ice on the outside, my mother always said. Whatever you feel, you keep it beneath the surface where no one can use it against you.
She was wrong about a lot of things, but she wasn't wrong about that.
"Sit," my father says when I enter.
He's behind his desk. There's a glass of whiskey at his elbow, half empty. A document sits in front of him, turned face down. I note all of this quickly and quietly, without letting my expression shift.
I sit.
"The council has made their decision," he says.
My stomach drops, but my face doesn't move. I've been expecting this. Every Orlov wife in the last three months has been matched through the council's mandate, and I've watchedit happen the way you watch a tide coming in. Creeping closer every day.
I just didn't think it would reach me this soon.
