“Lorenzo is pushing the council,” Pavel says without preamble. “He’s framing Diana Clarke as ongoing liability that undermines inter-syndicate stability. Two of the financial handlers are listening. Mikhail is getting pressure from Sartore elders to revisit your protection arrangement.”
I set down the coffee I was drinking and move to the office window, watching dawn light filter across the estate grounds. “What’s the timeline?”
“Days. Lorenzo wants resolution before the shipping routes finalize for next quarter. He’s arguing that Diana’s continued existence creates uncertainty that threatens both organizations.”
Translation: Sartore wants her eliminated before they commit to operational planning that assumes Rudenko cooperation. If I continue protecting her, Lorenzo can use that as justification to redirect partnerships toward groups who don’t let civilians complicate business decisions.
“What’s his leverage?”
“The usual. Political contributions dry up if senators get nervous. Shipping lanes redirect to competitors if we appear unstable. He’s not threatening war directly, but he’s making it clear that your personal attachment to Diana is becoming everyone’s problem.”
Personal attachment. The phrase lands with uncomfortable accuracy.
“Options?” I ask, though I already know the answer.
“Hand her over. Discredit her publicly. Or formalize the protection in a way that removes her from negotiation entirely.” Pavel’s tone carries weight on the last option. “Under Bratva code, a wife becomes untouchable without war declaration. It’s the only shield that supersedes organizational consensus.”
Marriage.
The solution is elegant in its brutality; transform Diana from civilian liability into family asset, make her removal an act of war.
Lorenzo could still move against her, but it would require openly challenging Rudenko authority in ways that trigger consequences he can’t control.
“She won’t agree,” I say, though I’m already calculating how to structure the proposal.
“She will if you explain the alternative clearly enough.” Pavel pauses. “Felix—this isn’t temporary containment. Marriage ties you to her permanently in ways that affect succession planning, alliance structures, everything. Are you certain she’s worth that commitment?”
The question demands honesty I’m not ready to articulate. Diana Clarke is a civilian who stumbled into dangerous territory and became an obsession I can’t rationalize strategically. Keeping her alive has already cost me political capital, organizational credibility, and the detachment I’ve maintained for decades.
Marrying her makes all of that permanent.
“I’m certain Lorenzo doesn’t get to dictate who lives and dies based on operational convenience,” I say instead.
Pavel’s silence suggests he hears what I’m not saying. “I’ll relay to the council that you’re handling the situation internally.But whatever you decide, do it quickly. Sartore patience has limits.”
The call ends.
I remain at the window, watching security teams rotate positions across the grounds, aware that every decision I make from this point forward carries consequences that extend beyond Diana’s immediate survival.
Marriage is not romance. It’s strategy, power consolidation, and a declaration that she belongs to me in ways Sartore can’t challenge without escalation neither organization can afford.
Beneath the operational justification, something more personal tightens in my chest.
I want her here. Want her alive. Want her bound to me through structures that make leaving impossible even if she finds a way past the physical barriers.
The possessiveness should concern me more than it does.
***
I find Diana in the library mid-morning, curled in one of the armchairs near the fireplace with a book I recognize from Ethan’s collection. She glances up when I enter, her expression guarded but less hostile than yesterday.
“We need to talk,” I say.
She sets the book aside slowly. “About?”
“Your situation. Sartore is escalating pressure for resolution. If things continue as they are, the council will force my hand within days.”
Her jaw tightens. “Force your hand how?”
