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“I’m not saying yes…”
My heart dropped, and my breathing suspended.
“I’m saying,” she continued, “that I’m willing to negotiate a yes.”
Air returned to my lungs.
“What are your terms, little pet?”
Her smile appeared then, slow and distinctly dangerous.
“You may regret asking that later.”
* * *
We reconvened the meeting forty minutes later.
Maxim returned without complaint, though his knowing look irritated me more than any remark could have. Ivan brought Kit. Giulia rejoined from Sicily with Raffaele and Matteo, while Alessia selected independent counsel from three attorneys Kit had found with no existing Bellandi or Morozov ties.
The woman Alessia chose appeared on the secure screen wearing tortoiseshell glasses and the expression of someone who billed in six-minute increments and enjoyed making powerful men uncomfortable.
Alessia kept her own accounts, earnings, and property. I would have no claim on the Bellandi trust, her Nocturne income, or whatever she built from the performance line she and Amy had begun discussing. She retained complete authority over whether she danced, designed, or eventually ran Nocturne herself.
She would receive all active intelligence involving her, her family, her movements, or any threat that could affect her. I could issue emergency commands when an immediate physical threat existed. Once the threat passed, the authority ended. In addition, I couldn’t classify a disagreement as an emergency merely because I disliked the risk she chose to take.
Finally, I couldn’t relocate her without her consent.
That last clause stayed on my mind longer than the others. Every protective instinct I had objected to it, but I signed beneath it anyway.
“There is no expectation of an heir,” Alessia’s lawyer said. “Furthermore, there is no reproductive obligation tied to either family, the trust, or succession.”
My throat closed, and I drew in a slow breath while Alessia’s gaze flicked to me.
“A child will never be a contractual obligation to me,” I explained softly. “If we choose to have a family one day, that decision belongs to us. No one else.”
We reached the final page shortly before midnight. Alessia read it once and then again. She picked up the pen but paused before signing.
“One more term.”
Her attorney waited.
“Neither spouse conceals an active threat from the other,” Alessia said. “And neither of us makes a secret protection plan involving the other person.”
The words settled directly over the darkest instinct I possessed. I worked on hidden contingency plans and alternate routes, and I made decisions early enough that no one had time to object. I had always called it preparation.
I looked up to see that Alessia was watching me closely.
I could have argued about operational necessity, immediate danger, and even that some information couldn’t safely be shared until a plan was in motion.
I understood what she was actually asking, though.
Do not become my father.
Do not disappear from the relationship while claiming distance keeps me safe.
So, I agreed.
The attorney added the clause, and Alessia signed first. I signed beneath her signature. Then, Maxim took the pen next as witness.
