And I offered him a deal. His daughter for his company.
He took it.
Anna reaches the altar and stops beside me. She’s tall for a woman, but I still have at least eight inches on her. She doesn’t look at me. Just stares straight ahead at the officiant like she can will this entire situation away through sheer force of stubbornness.
I’ve seen that look before. On men who thought they could negotiate their way out of debts they couldn’t pay. On rivals who believed they were untouchable. It never ends well for them.
The officiant clears his throat and begins speaking. Standard vows. Legal binding. Nothing romantic about it. Anna’s jaw tightens with every word, but she doesn’t move. Doesn’t protest. She agreed to this, and she’ll see it through because she has no other option.
Her parents sit in the front row. Svetlana is crying quietly. Viktor stares at the floor. They sold their daughter to save themselves, and they’ll live with that. I don’t care either way. Guilt is a currency I don’t deal in.
My son Maxim stands near the back, arms crossed, watching the proceedings with the detached interest of someone observing a business transaction that doesn’t involve him. He’s thirty years old, sharp enough to run parts of my operation, but not ruthless enough to take over entirely. Maxim met Anna briefly when she arrived. He was polite and distant. Exactly as I instructed. This marriage doesn’t threaten him. If anything, it consolidates my legitimate holdings and makes succession cleaner when the time comes.
The officiant asks Anna if she takes me as her husband.
She hesitates. Just a second, but I notice it. Then she says, “I do.”
Her voice is steady. No tremor. No tears. Just cold acceptance.
Good. I have no patience for hysterics.
When it’s my turn, I answer without hesitation. “I do.”
The officiant pronounces us married. There’s no kiss. No applause. Just a brief nod from the officiant and the rustle of witnesses shifting in their seats.
Done.
I look to Anna. “We’ll sign the remaining documents in my study after the reception.”
“There’s a reception?” Her voice is flat.
“Your parents arranged it. A small dinner. We’ll make an appearance, then leave.”
She finally looks at me. Blue eyes. Deep blue, almost startling against her pale skin and dark hair. There’s anger there, simmering just below the surface. She hates me. That’s fine. Hate is easier to manage than grief or fear. Hate is predictable.
“How long do we have to stay?” she asks.
“An hour. Two at most.”
“And then?”
“Then you move into my home with your children. We’ll consummate the marriage tonight to make it legally binding. After that, you’re free to avoid me as much as you’d like.”
Her mouth tightens. “You make it sound so romantic.”
“This isn’t a romance, Anna. It’s a contract. You fulfill your end, I fulfill mine. Your children will have security. Your parents keep their dignity. Everyone wins.”
“Except me.”
“You get a roof over your head, financial security, and protection for your family. That’s more than most people get in a marriage.”
She stares at me for a long moment, and I can see her working through responses in her head. Calculating what she can say without making this worse for herself. Smart. I appreciate that.
“Fine,” she says finally. “Let’s get this over with.”
She walks past me toward the reception hall without waiting for an escort. I watch her go, noting the stiffness in her spine, the way she doesn’t look back.
Pavel appears at my elbow. He’s been my second for fifteen years, handles logistics and enforcement. He’s also the one who vetted Anna before I made the final offer to Viktor.
