Alex made a few phone calls throughout the morning, his breakfast forgotten. He was pacing the small space of my living room as he spoke, issuing clipped instructions to his men in Russian. Then judging by the sharp turn of his tone, I suspected, to Olga. The rapid Russian that followed earning him an earful in return.
I watched from the kitchen, finishing my breakfast then washing the dishes, anything to keep my hands busy. Because if I stopped moving, I wasn't sure what I would do, or what I would let myself feel. I had agreed to this, there was no turning back now.
I still didn't know how he planned to bring the men in the Famiglia to heel. But once word spread, we would be come targets. Every crime syndicates would be watching.
After all, the only reason Alex had survived this long, despite everything he had done, was because he remained under the radar. Not much was known about him. No fixed allegiances. No public ties. No wife. So little was known about him, that some even suspected he was working for a covert operation from the government.
If we did this, if we married now, I wouldn't just be compromising his safety. I would be compromising mine, too. We would be walking targets.
I dried my hands on the towel and crossed into the living room. He was murmuring into the phone when I reached him. I took it from his hand and ended the call without thinking. The line went dead with a soft click, as I tossed his phone onto the couch.
He stared at me, momentarily stunned.
"What are you doing?" he asked, his Russian accent thicker than usual, sharp around the edges.
"We can't do this," I said.
Those green eyes narrowing to slits.
"I thought we had an agreement."
"I know," I said carefully. "And I meant it. I still do. But we can't do this now. We have to be smart about this, Alex. For both our sakes."
His expression didn't soften. If anything, it hardened into something colder, older.
"I have leverage," he said quietly. "Names. Proof. Favors owed by men who would rather kneel than see their sins dragged into the light." He stepped closer. "I didn't build this plan overnight."
His gaze dropped to my mouth, before lifting back to my eyes, steady and unwavering.
"I built it the moment I learned my wife was alive," he said quietly, "and in my enemy's hands."
I exhaled slowly, as if breath alone could keep my resolve from fracturing. "That may not be enough," I said, shaking my head. "Walls can be breached. Plans may unravel. There is no certainty when the risk is war." I held his gaze, unwilling to soften it for him. "Don't be a fool, Alex. You can't lose sight on what's important. Peace."
His gaze darkened, something unreadable passing through it before his mouth curved, slow and dangerous. "You think I'm a fool?" he murmured. He leaned in until his forehead rested against mine, his breath warm, controlled.
"You think I haven't planned for every possible outcome?" His thumb brushed my wrist, grounding and possessive, all at once. "There has never been peace in the underworld, Princess. You know that. If peace existed, we wouldn't have to rule by fear."
The truth of it cut deeper than I was ready for.
"I don't want to lose you," I whispered, the confession slipping out of me before I could stop them. "I'm terrified that the past will come for us again. Only this time, it will be worse, because once I bind myself to you, we won't just be in danger. We'll be marked for life."
I cupped his face, thumbs trembling against his jaw, as if memorizing him in case this was all 'd ever be allowed to keep. "I can't live like that, Alex. I can't survive it again." My voice faltered, but I forced myself to finish. "We can't stand against the underworld and the government both. No plan is ever truly foolproof. There is always a risk. And this time, it'll be greater."
He didn't argue again.
Instead, he kissed me.
Just his lips pressing on mine, slow and deliberate, as if he was sealing a vow the world was never meant to hear. Not with desperation, but resolve. The quiet, tender kind that comes after a decision has already been made.
"You won't ever lose me again," he murmured against my mouth. "I won't let it."
His hand slid to my lower back, grounding, steady. "How about we keep it a secret between us?" Another brush of his lips, softer this time. "We'd spend a few days here after the wedding. As newlyweds, just enough to breathe."
"Then you'll head back," he continued, his mouth hovering just close enough that every word felt like a promise. "You'll take your place. The empire you're meant to inherit. Your name, power, future, all out in the light where no one can touch you without consequences."
"And you?" I whispered.
A faint smile ghosted his lips before he kissed me again. Shorter this time, almost restrained.
"I'll watch," he said quietly. "From the shadows, just as I have for the past month. Nothing will reach you without passing through me first."
My chest ached at the certainty in his voice. He made it sound simple, almost merciful, as though there weren't a thousand enemies still waiting to turn on us. As though my grandfather wasn't somewhere out there, still wounded or worse, and I hadn't even asked.
The guilt came sharp and sudden. I hadn't bothered to ask. I hadn't even wondered. I had been too busy surviving Alex.
"This is how I keep you," Alex murmured, drawing me back. "Even if the world never knows you're mine."
The sight of him like this hit me harder than it should have. With his hair still mussed, the shadow darkening his jaw, dressed in his workout clothes. It was the way he had looked the morning of our wedding. When I first told him that I was pregnant. When we still believed the future belonged to us. When love felt like certainty instead of a weapon.
I lifted my hand to his cheek, brushing my thumb along the familiar skin. He leaned into my touch, those eyes gazing tenderly down at me as I brushed his hair back the way I used to. The way I had sworn I never would again, just mere days ago.
"One condition," I said.
He didn't hesitate. "Name it."
I swallowed, forcing the words past the tightness in my throat.
"My grandfather stays alive."
The silence that followed was heavy, solemn and irrevocable.