“Milaya moya,” he says softly. My sweet one. “You’ve had a long day, a long few days. Go to bed, everything we need to discuss can wait until morning.”
I straighten and square my shoulders, trying to salvage some dignity. “Just so we’re clear, I went through with this ridiculous marriage because I had no choice. But there will be no wedding night.”
His mouth curves and he raises his palms in surrender. “You have your own room. I won’t set foot in it.”
“Good.”
“Unless you beg me to.”
Heat crawls up my neck. “That’ll never happen.”
“We’ll see.” His eyes gleam with amusement. “Sweet dreams, wife.”
“Wait.”
He pauses, turning back to face me.
“What do you want from me?”
He faces me again, studying my face for a long moment. “Nothing you need to worry about tonight. Tomorrow we’ll talk about what comes next.”
“That’s not a helpful answer.”
“It’s the only one you’re getting tonight.” His expression softens. “I’m not your enemy, Dinara. If I were, you’d know it.”
Hearing my real name on his lips sends a shiver down my spine. I don’t know if his words are comforting but I do know I’m too exhausted to push further.
CHAPTER
THIRTY-FOUR
KIRILL
Standingat the window with a glass of whiskey in hand, I watch Manhattan slumber below and try to think about anything but the woman sleeping down the hall.
My wife.
Fuck, I shouldn’t like that as much as I do.
I married her because it was the smart, tactical move. But standing at the altar, watching her walk toward me—a vision in white—and then sliding my mother’s ring onto her finger… that didn’t feel like strategy. It felt like inevitability.
I’d told my brothers everything right before the ceremony. Dinara’s real identity, what I found in her apartment, the messages confirming no one in her life, including Pavel Fedorov, knows her true reasons for moving to New York.
Matvey thinks I’ve lost my mind, marrying a Belov Syndicate hacker to solve my problems with our father. Dem, on the other hand, stayed silent as I explained the strategy, but I caught my brothers exchanging looks during the ceremony. They know my feelings for Dinara run deeper than I admitted to them.
Whether they think this is a smart move or not, when I asked if they’d stand with me no matter what happens from here, neither hesitated.
For now, my father doesn’t need to know about this marriage. He’d be dead set against it. But fuck him. I don’t plan on losing to the Ghost. Or marrying Varvara Morozova or anyone else he has in mind. I’ve given up enough control of my life to my father’s choices and it ends here.
Inviting Katya was never the plan, but something kept on nagging at me. It felt wrong not to have her there. Wrong for my sister to miss my wedding even if the whole thing is just a strategic maneuver.
Watching her face light up during the ceremony and the emotional hug she gave me afterward hit me like a punch to the gut. She thinks this is real love instead of calculated necessity, that she’s just gained a sister. And for that, I feel like shit.
I’m just grateful Dinara played along.
Today blurs every line I thought I’d drawn between strategy and feeling, and if I’m not careful, I’ll lose sight of which side I’m standing on entirely.
I drain the glass but it does nothing to settle my thoughts. I pass her room on the way to my own, and I find the door cracked open.
