Page 24 of Possessive Bratva’s Kidnapped Virgin

I had prepared for this question. I had prepared a concise summary of relevant information—background, threat nexus, professional profile, assessed temperament under stress. I had intended to deliver it the way I delivered operational briefings: factually, in the most efficient configuration of data.

“She’s stubborn,” I said.

Dmitri made a sound.

I looked at him.

“Nothing,” he said, apparently exercising restraint.

“She’s stubborn,” I continued, “and she doesn’t shrink. She was brought into a Bratva poker room with zip-tied wrists and within twenty minutes she was conducting a threat assessment of the space and arguing with my security staff about whether she needed to be carried across the lobby.” I paused. “She’s brave; I’ve also seen that much. She’s a professional—her business is legitimate, well-run, and her client relationships suggest genuine competence rather than mere show.” Another pause. “She’s reckless the way people are reckless when they’re angry enough that their self-preservation instinct is temporarily overridden.”

The room was quiet for a moment.

Anya was the one who spoke. “Well, do you like her?”

“Anya,” Katerina called.

“What? It’s a relevant question,” Dimitri insisted.

“I don’t know her,” I said, facing Anya and deciding to ignore Dimitri.

“That’s not what I asked.”

I held her gaze for a moment. Then I looked at Mikhail, because Mikhail was the point of this conversation in the way that mattered—the operational point, the structural point, the point that would or wouldn’t extend the protection of the family’s name to a woman who had been in my building for less than two days.

“She looks at me like I’m answerable to her,” I said. “Not like I’m a man with the power to end problems. Like I’m a man who has made decisions she disagrees with and is going to be required to account for them.”

Mikhail was quiet for several seconds in a way that wasn’t passive. It was, as usual, active and weighted. Then he nodded once. The specific, final nod that in our family meant, ‘This is decided.’

“Do it properly,” he said. “Not a courthouse. Here.”

“This evening,” I disclosed.

“This evening, Lex?” Katerina asked, surprise clear in her expression.

Viktor sighed.

Dmitri grinned at me. “I want to meet her,” he said.

“You will, except you plan to miss the wedding.”

“Is she as—”

“Dmitri.”

“I’m just asking—”

“Is there any reason to hold on?” Mikhail asked, looking around the table.

“Nope,” Anya answered immediately. “But if she’s as stubborn as you say, she’ll definitely not agree easily.”

Of course.

“I think it’s far-fetched. But I see no real danger, either,” Viktor remarked.

“Alright, then,” Mikhail said. “This evening.”

He stood, and we all stood after him.