“There are always other options.”
“Not good ones.”
Felix crosses to the window, hands in his pockets. “Damien is going to lose his mind when he finds out you’re marrying a civilian. One with no connections, no value to the family, who published an exposé about our operations.”
“Damien will accept it because the alternative is war with the Volkovs, and we’re not ready for that yet.”
“You’re gambling a lot on assumptions about what Damien will or won’t accept.”
He’s right. I am.
“Go home, Felix. Get some sleep. We’ll deal with family politics in the morning.”
He doesn’t move immediately. Just watches Janice sleep with an expression I can’t quite read.
“She’s going to hate you for this,” he says finally.
“Probably.”
“You’re fine with that?”
Am I? I turn the question over, examining it from all angles.
Janice has every reason to hate me. For ending things four years ago. For getting her fired. For threatening her with a gun. For saving her life tonight in a way that binds her to me whether she wants it or not.
Adding marriage to that list won’t change much.
“I’m fine with it,” I say.
Felix shakes his head but doesn’t argue further. He leaves the same way he came—silent, efficient, already calculating how to manage the fallout from decisions I haven’t officially made yet.
I return to watching Janice sleep, cataloging details I have no right to notice. The way her hair falls across her face. The soft curve of her hip visible even under my oversized jacket. The slight part of her lips that makes me remember how they tasted four years ago.
She’s mine now.
The sun is rising when she finally stirs.
Janice wakes slowly, confusion crossing her face before memory catches up. I watch the exact moment she remembers—gunshots, bodies, blood. Her hand flies to her chest, fingerspressing against fabric that’s stiff with dried blood that isn’t hers.
“You’re safe,” I say from the chair I moved closer while she slept.
She jumps, clearly not expecting me. “How long have you been sitting there?”
“Awhile.”
“That’s not creepy at all.”
“Would you prefer I left you alone in an unfamiliar space after the night you had?”
She doesn’t answer. Just looks down at herself, at the ruined clothes, and makes a small sound of distress.
“There’s a shower through there.” I gesture toward the guest suite. “Clean clothes laid out. Take your time.”
“I need to call Diana, or Mom.”
“Diana knows you’re safe. I had my assistant contact her this morning with a message that you’re dealing with a family emergency and will be out of the office for a few days.”
“You can’t do that on my behalf. She should hear it from me.”
