Page 68 of Dark King Daddy

Anton did not move.

“Anton,” Ksenia said without turning. “I’ll be fine.”

He held my gaze for a long moment. Then he stood and left. Nikita followed. The door closed behind them.

Ksenia reached into her coat and produced two folded sheets of paper.

She placed them on the desk between us. The paper was crisp, typed, the margins precise.

“Anton and I wrote these,” she said. “These are my conditions.”

I unfolded the first page.

The language was clean. Legal without being obstructive. Each condition stated in a single paragraph, numbered, unambiguous.

One: All existing Orlov assets remain outside the marriage. Daniil Sokolov receives no claim on Orlov family holdings, businesses, or properties through Ksenia Orlova.

Two: Ksenia’s personal finances remain independent. All income earned through her professional work stays solely in her name.

Three: She continues her architectural restoration practice without interference. Her projects, clients, and professional reputation remain her own. Her husband does not decide which commissions she accepts or declines.

Four: She maintains separate banking, separate legal representation, and personal transportation that does not require Sokolov authorization.

Five: No marital intimacy without her explicit consent.

I read each condition twice. I wanted to be certain I understood what she was telling me.

She was not entering this marriage as property. She was not entering it as a dependent. She was entering it as a woman who had watched other women in our world lose themselves inside alliances dressed as weddings, and she had drawn a line around every piece of herself she intended to keep.

“I have no problem with any of these,” I said.

Her expression shifted. The careful composure she had maintained since sitting down loosened at the edges. Her shoulders dropped half an inch. Her fingers, which had been pressed flat against her knees, relaxed.

She had expected a fight.

“The only point we need to discuss is security,” I said.

She straightened again.

“If we do this—if—then you must be safe. While the Voronin threat is active, I need to know where you are,” I said. “Not to control you. To protect you. If they target you—and they will, because you will become the most visible symbol of this alliance—I need to be able to reach you.”

“Agreed. Within reason.”

“Define reason.”

“I notify your security team of my movements during the workday. Meetings, site visits, client appointments. I use jointly approved protection — your men and Anton’s, or men we both vet.”

“Acceptable.”

“But.” She leaned forward slightly. “You cannot cancel my work. You cannot confine me to your home. You cannot change my schedule without discussing a specific, identified threat with me first.”

“If there is a specific threat—”

“Then we discuss it. You present what you know. I listen. We decide together.”

“Together.”

“Together.” She held my gaze. “I am not asking you to ignore danger. I am asking you not to use danger as an excuse to make my decisions for me.”