She’s here.
She’s safe.
And she’s completely unprotected in the middle of downtown.
“Sophia.” Her name comes out rougher than I intend. “What are you doing here?”
Her blue eyes are wide, her face pale.
One hand rests protectively over the small swell of her stomach, and I see the fear in her expression.
But there’s something else too. Accusation. Disappointment.
She heard me on the phone.
She heard me talking about eliminating a problem, and now she thinks the worst.
“I needed to see you.” Her voice trembles slightly. “I needed to talk to you somewhere that isn’t the compound surrounded by guards and…and loneliness.”
I glance past her down the hallway, my mind already calculating threats. “How did you get here? Where’s your security detail?”
“I don’t need a security detail to visit my husband’s office.” She lifts her chin, defiant despite the tremor in her hands. “I’m not a prisoner, Mikhail.”
“You’re pregnant and vulnerable.” I step closer, lowering my voice. “Do you have any idea how dangerous it is for you to be out here alone? If any of my enemies saw you, if they realized you were unprotected?—”
“I’m not alone. Elena drove me.” She crosses her arms over her chest. “And I wouldn’t have had to sneak out if you didn’t treat me like I’m made of glass.”
The word “sneak” makes my blood run cold. “You snuck out? Past the guards? Past the security I put in place specifically to keep you safe?”
“The security you put in place to keep me locked up.” Her voice rises, and I’m acutely aware of my employees in nearby offices who might overhear. “I can’t breathe in that compound, Mikhail. I can’t live like that.”
I take her arm, my grip gentle but firm, and guide her into my office.
The door closes behind us with a soft click, giving us privacy.
She pulls away from me immediately, putting the width of my desk between us.
“We need to talk about what you heard,” I begin, but she cuts me off.
“I heard you ordering someone to eliminate a problem. Permanently.” Her eyes shine with unshed tears. “I heard you becoming the man I’m terrified you’ll always be.”
The accusation stings because part of me knows she’s not entirely wrong.
I’ve been walking a tightrope between my old life and the legitimate future I’m trying to build, and sometimes the line blurs more than I’d like to admit.
“That phone call was about a corrupt city official.” I move around the desk toward her, but she backs away. “He’s trying to shake down my construction company for bribes. The elimination I was discussing involves lawyers and legal pressure, not violence.”
She searches my face, looking for the lie she’s convinced must be there. “You expect me to believe that?”
“It’s the truth.” Frustration makes my voice sharper than I intend. “I’ve been working with attorneys all week to build a case against him. No threats. No violence. Just legal warfare.”
“Then why did you sound so angry? Why use those words?” She wraps her arms around herself, and I hate that she needs comfort I apparently can’t provide. “You sounded exactly like the man who tortured my father.”
The comparison sends a mix of frustration and guilt twisting through my stomach. “I’m not that man anymore.”
“Aren’t you?” She moves to the window, staring out at the city below. “You say you’re trying to go legitimate, but you’re still solving problems the same way. You’re still thinking like a pakhan first and a businessman second.”
I follow her to the window, standing close enough to feel the heat radiating from her body but not touching. “Going legitimate isn’t as simple as flipping a switch. I have enemies who see my transition as weakness. I have business partners who don’t understand why I’m suddenly playing by the rules. And I have a wife who I’m terrified of losing because I can’t seem to do anything right.”
