And for a reason I don’t care to examine too closely, I don’t like them.
Still, a smile curves my face.
“Of course,” I say easily, voice calm, almost amused. “A lapse.”
She narrows her eyes slightly, like she doesn’t quite believe me, like she’s trying to figure out what I’m not saying.
I don’t give her anything else. I just watch her.
And that seems to irritate her more.
Good.
Without another word, she turns and walks toward the door, every step controlled, composed, like she’s already rebuilding the walls she let slip just minutes ago.
The door opens. Closes.
Silence settles over the room again.
I lean back against the bed, dragging a hand down my face, exhaling slowly as I stare at the ceiling.
This situation…it’s spiraling into something else entirely.
What started as a suspicious refugee showing up at our doorstep has shifted. Twisted. Become something far more complicated.
Far more dangerous.
And whether I like it or not, Valeria Petrova is already changing the structure of my world.
Chapter 7 – Valeria
I wake expecting silence.
Awkwardness.
Maybe even avoidance after what happened last night.
Instead, I step out of my room that morning and walk straight into chaos.
The house is… unrecognizable.
Staff rush through the halls carrying bolts of fabric, trays of flowers, boxes of decorations. Voices overlap, orders are barked, security tries—and fails—to keep the flow organized. It feels like I’ve stepped into the middle of something already in motion. Something big.
I stop in the hallway, completely still, trying to make sense of it.
“What’s going on?” I ask no one in particular.
No one answers. They’re too busy moving, preparing, working.
It takes a few minutes—watching, listening, piecing it together—for the realization to settle in.
Timofey accepted.
The marriage.
My chest tightens, not with panic, but with something sharper. Something more dangerous.
This is happening.
