Someone called my name from behind the cage.
I didn’t stop.
Arms locked around mine from behind. Bodies hauled me back, multiple sets of hands, the grip of men who knew better than to be gentle about it.
“I think you won, Vadim,” Konstantin drawled from outside the cage, entirely unmoved.“You made me good money.”
I shook the hands off.
Looked down at the man on the floor.
Looked at the cage door.
“Send the next one in,” I said, cracking my neck.
I wasn’t done yet.
??????
I paused at the top of the stairs.
Forced myself not to look down the hallway.
The contract was built to preserve my lifestyle and protect my progeny. She had read it, signed it as a competent adult, and could damn well live with it. As could I.
I strode to my bedroom. Tikhon kept his distance, following behind me but remained close to the stairs.
No one had breathed a word on the drive back. Bogdan stared out of the window the entire journey with the focused neutrality of a man who had learned exactly when to be invisible.
I stripped out of my clothes and went to the bathroom to inspect the damage. One cut lip. Bruised knuckles, the right hand worse than the left. The pit had vented some of it—the specific pressure that built when something refused to resolve itself the way it was supposed to. But coming home with her at the end of the hall had dragged it back up before I’d even reached the gates.
I turned the shower on and stepped in without waiting for the temperature to settle.
The cold hit first. I let it.
Work.
Heir.
Nothing more and nothing less.
??????
Radovan hovered in the doorway until I glanced up.
“What is it?” I asked, resuming spreading butter on my rye bread.
The same butter dish. The same kitchen counter. I noted the detail and said nothing.
“Mrs Dragunov—”
My head snapped up. He paused, shifting his weight beside the door.
“She seems to be applying for jobs.”
“What kind of jobs?”
“I couldn’t determine that. I saw her updating her résumé and browsing a recruitment site.”
