I shift in my chair, suddenly aware of how small this room is, how close he is, how the memory is already pulsing in my veins again. “It wasn’t intentional.”
His mouth curves, just slightly. “And yet here we are. You, in my office. Me, trusting you to choose the woman I’ll marry.”
There’s something dark and amused in his tone, like he’s testing the boundaries of what we can say to each other, how far he can push me before I break.
“And you’re sure you want me to do this?” I ask, my voice barely above a whisper. “Even after… everything?”
His gaze holds mine, hot and unflinching. “Especially after everything.”
The tension between us snaps taut, and for a wild, dizzy second, I want to tell him that every woman in that database could walkthrough that door and I wouldn’t notice any of them. That he could have his pick of the city and it wouldn’t matter—because I’m right here, burning for him.
But all I can do is nod, clutching the tablet a little tighter, trying to calm my breathing.
“Fine,” I say, my voice a shaky mix of challenge and surrender. “I’ll find you a wife.”
13
ALEKSEI
What the fuckis wrong with me?
I watch her across the desk, clutching the tablet like it might save her from me. Her cheeks are flushed, lips parted, her eyes flickering from the screen back to mine. She has no idea how close I am to shoving everything off this desk and taking her right here. And still, I push her away with this assignment. Still, I pretend none of it matters.
Out loud, my voice is cold and businesslike. “Not only will you find a wife for me, Zatanna, but you’ll set up an appointment. I need to be wed by the end of the month. So you need to be efficient.”
She blinks, processing. “So this is why you hired me?” Her tone is flat, but there’s an edge under it—hurt or disbelief or maybe just exhaustion.
“Yes,” I say, meeting her gaze without flinching. “I don’t have time to waste.”
She looks back at the tablet, then at me, eyebrows raised, her voice dry. “You don’t have time to find a wife?”
“I don’t believe in romance,” I say, the words automatic now, old armor. “I don’t have the patience for dating, for games. I want something that works on paper. Something… efficient. A contract, not a fantasy.”
She watches me, searching for cracks. For a second I almost want to show her—what’s broken inside me, why love isn’t an option, why I’m doing any of this at all.
But I can’t. So, I go on, my tone even. “You’ll coordinate introductions, background checks, and shortlist the best candidates. Discretion is everything. The fewer people who know the details, the better for everyone involved.”
She hesitates, then asks, “And what if none of them are good enough?”
I lean in, letting her feel the weight of my focus. “Then you’ll try harder. I don’t fail, Zatanna. Not in business, not in life.”
But as I say it, something in me whispers that this—her, this game, this impossible chemistry—is already a failure of discipline I can’t afford.
“You’ll also have to coordinate with my secretary, and make sure this doesn’t affect my business in any way.”
She winces at this, but I carry on, despite the apprehension on her face. “I need to see the woman who’s going to be the mother of my children at least a couple of times before we’re wed.”
Her eyes flicker with a touch of humor, but her voice is steady. “Of course, you have to court them. You can’t just show up at City Hall and hope someone says yes.”
I nod, doing my best to ignore the pulse of something hot and stupid in my chest. “Fine, good. The sooner you get started, the better.”
But even as I watch her leave, I can’t shake the thought…
What the fuck is wrong with me, that I’d rather burn for her than have any of these perfect strangers on her screen?
She doesn’t waste a second. The moment she leaves my desk, she settles onto the couch across from me, stylus tapping briskly on the tablet as she pulls up files and jots down notes.
I watch her for a minute, irritation flaring—she’s barely had the conversation and she’s already elbows-deep in matchmaking. There’s a stubborn little part of me that expected her to drag her feet, to hesitate or protest. But no, she’s in motion, efficient, focused, refusing to be rattled.
