A soft stream of sunlight breaks across my face, warm and golden, coaxing me from the deepest, most peaceful sleep I’ve had in years.


    For a second, I forget where I am—wrapped in silk sheets, head sinking into a pillow that smells faintly of his cologne.


    And that’s when it hits me. I’ve tied myself to a monster, and this is his castle.


    When I nce to my side, the bed is empty. A folded note sits on the pillow next to mine, thick ivory paper with something scrawled in bold handwriting.


    Join me for breakfast, Mrs. Marinova.


    – K


    I stare at the words for a moment, my stomach tightening.


    Mrs. Marinova.


    It still doesn’t feel real. The ceremony, the kiss, the way he looked at me as if he’d imed something more than just my name. Like he’d imed me. My skin tingles at the memory.


    My gaze drops to the rings on my finger, their cold brilliance a reminder of the promises made, the ties that bind me to him. It’s strange how something so beautiful can also feel so deadly, each gleam like a warning I can’t escape.


    I climb out of bed and head to the suitcase, removing a floral dress from inside, something soft and feminine that falls to my knees. I’d much rather wear something ck, something that reflects how I truly feel. But if I’m going to y this game, I have to follow his rules, even while I hate every minute of it.


    The winding staircase feels endless as I descend. Framed paintings line the walls. Nature scenes, dense forests, wolves howling under full moons. Power and beauty. A reflection of the man who lives here.


    At the bottom, a guy waits, gun holstered, back straight.


    “Good morning, Mrs. Marinova. The boss waiting for you. I show you where.”


    “Alright.” I follow him past the foyer and into an expansive kitchen with gray cabry, white marbled counters, and pendant lights glowing like low embers.


    A long oak table anchors the room, piled high with food. Konstantin sits at the head of it, his phone in one hand, a porcin coffee cup in the other. He looks devastatingly rxed, the crisp white of his shirt rolled at the forearms, veins visible as his fingers scrollzily. But the moment he sees me, his posture shifts. The phone lowers; his lips curl into a slow, deliberate smirk; and something in my chest stutters hard.


    The way he looks at me…it’s too much. Too intimate. Like I’m something precious he doesn’t intend to let go of.


    And for a split second, I let myself wonder how it might feel if this was real. A husband whose eyes soften when I entered the room. A man who smiles like I’m his world.


    My heart squeezes at the thought, because I know better. I know exactly what this is: a velvet-lined trap that tightens every time I exhale.


    “Careful, Mrs. Marinova. That dress might start a war,” he drawls, low and rough, thick with something that makes my pulse flicker.


    He rises from his seat like a man with purpose, closing the space between us in three measured steps. His fingers brush my waist before his arm curves around my back, pulling me in. His mouth dips to my ear, breath warm and unhurried against my skin.


    “Good morning, my beautiful wife.”


    My heart does that stupid thing again every time he calls me that, like it’s flipping in my chest.


    Stupid heart.


    “Morning.” I slide my hand up the solid column of his neck and tug him closer, unable to stop myself, like he’s controlling every inch of me.


    My lips graze his jaw, and he lets out a low growl, the vibration seeping into my chest. He follows as I turn toward the table, but before I can reach the nearest seat, he pulls out the one beside his. I hesitate, but his fingers slide along mine in a slow caress. When I look up, his gaze has darkened, burning through everyyer of my restraint. It roams my face, my lips, down the slope of my neck, like he’s memorizing me.


    I force myself to clear my throat, to break whatever this is. When I finally lower into my seat, he slides in beside me, his hand falling to my thigh beneath the table, firm and possessive.


    And just like that, I forget how to breathe.


    Before I can process the heat spreading through me, footsteps echo softly against the tile. An older woman enters the kitchen, her gray hair swept into a low bun and a warm smile lighting up her face.


    “Oh, hello! It is pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Marinova. Congrattions!” Her Russian ent is hard to miss.


    I stand to greet her, offering a quick nce at Konstantin, silently asking who she is.


    “This is Arina, my chef. She prepared our breakfast.”


    “It’s nice to meet you,” I tell her, still trying to wrap my head around how domestic this moment feels. “Everything smells incredible.”


    She smiles warmly and squeezes my hand. “I make blini with red caviar, syrniki with powder sugar. Is Russian pancake. And pirozhki with egg and onion. You eat, yes?”


    “Sure, I’ll try everything.” A grin grows on my face.


    I’ve never tasted any of that before, but my mouth waters just from the aroma. As I take my seat again, Arina pours me a cup of coffee while Konstantin leans forward and begins piling food onto my te.


    “Whoa…” Iugh, eyeing the generous portions. “That’s way too much. If you keep feeding me like this, I won’t fit into this dress you seem to like so much.”


    His gaze darkens as it sweeps over me. “That’s perfectly fine. I prefer you without it anyway.”


    My mouth falls open, heat zing across my cheeks as I throw a pointed look toward Arina, who’s facing away from us, washing something in the sink.


    He barely blinks. “Don’t worry, she’s seen and heard worse.”


    I don’t doubt that for a second.


    Trying to ignore the thrum beneath my skin, I focus on my te, letting the steam and scent pull me in. I take a bite of something buttery and soft, and the taste is so rich, so unexpectedly good, that a quiet sound slips out before I can catch it.


    His attention sharpens instantly, zeroed in like a hunter. “You like it?”


    “It’s amazing.”


    “You enjoy.” Arina wipes her hands on a towel, her smile soft as she heads toward the hallway. “I go.”


    “Thanks again,” I tell her.


    She nods once and disappears, leaving behind a silence that suddenly feels thick. Only the clink of cutlery fills the room as we both enjoy our breakfast. My attention flicks toward his te for a moment, where his phone sits beside his coffee.


    This might be the best chance I have.


    If I can get to the bathroom,unch the program Riley sent, then bring my phone back and ce it close enough to his, the sync should begin. All I have to do is make sure he doesn’t use his phone for ten minutes. How hard can that be?


    I clear my throat. “Where’s the bathroom?”


    He nces up, his fork pausing mid-air, eyes narrowing just slightly. “Just through there.” He lifts his finger toward the hallway behind him. “First door on the right.”


    “Thanks.” I attempt to keep my movements casual as I rise.


    Each step away from the table feels like walking a tightrope. I can feel his stare trailing me as I disappear down the hall.


    Once inside the bathroom, I lock the door andunch the program, the screen shing once before goingpletely ck. Exactly what she said would happen. Still, I can’t stop my nerves from wing through me.


    What if it doesn’t work? What if he somehow realizes what I’m doing?


    Fuck, I need to stop. I’ll only make myself crazy with worst-case scenarios.


    My pulse crashes in my ears as I flush the toilet and run the water, giving the illusion of normalcy. Catching a glimpse of myself in the mirror, I force a breath into my lungs.


    Don’t blow this now.


    When I return to the kitchen, I attempt to keep my pace natural.


    Konstantin looks up as I approach, and for a moment, his gaze sharpens, like he’s reading the thoughts right off my subconscious.


    “Find it okay?” he asks, tone easy. But his eyes…they’re not.


    “Yeah.” I smile, quick and tight, and slide into the seat beside him.


    My phone rests on the table, inches from his, close enough to start the sync. I grip my coffee cup, fingers stiff, every cell in my body wound tight.


    He reaches for something, and my stomach drops as his fingers brush the edge of his phone. I brace, ready to scream into the fucking void.


    “I need to go back to my apartment sometime today.” My wordse fast, too fast. “There are a few things I forgot.”


    His hand stills as he leans back in his chair, attention swinging fully to me. The moment stretches.


    “That’s fine.” He lifts his cup to his mouth. “I have business to handle this morning, so your bodyguards will take you.”


    Bodyguards. Plural.


    Of course. Not enough that I have to cover my tracks from one. Now I’ll get to have fun with more of them.


    My hand curls beneath the table. “When will I meet them?”


    “You already have.” He smirks slightly. “Maksim and Dmitri. They’re the only ones I trust with your safety, aside from my brothers.”


    He turns his attention back to his coffee, the phone remaining untouched, exactly where I need it.


    About seven more minutes. I just have to act normal.


    “Speaking of your brothers…” I swirl thest of my coffee. “Howe they weren’t at the ceremony yesterday? Do they not approve of your choice of wife?” The amusement in my tone is anything but subtle.


    His jaw tics. “Don’t worry about them.”


    I smirk. “Sounds like a yes.”


    “Their opinions don’t matter to me. And they shouldn’t to you.”


    “I guess it shouldn’t, since we won’t be married for long.”


    He just cuts into a thin pancake like I didn’t speak at all. “You’ll see them tonight at dinner. And I promise they’ll be on their best behavior.”


    The way he says it, there’s no doubt in my mind that “best behavior” is not a suggestion. It’s an order. And if one of his brothers steps out of line, he’ll handle it. No matter the blood they share.


    He sets his fork down. “Before I forget, I have something for you.”


    Rising from the table, he crosses to a drawer, returning with a long ck jewelry box.


    “What’s that?”


    “A wedding present.” He ces it in front of me.


    When I look inside, I find a thin bracelet, delicate and glinting with small diamonds. The kind of thing you’d expect to find in a vault, not casually slid across a breakfast table.


    “That looks insanely expensive. What if I lose it?”


    “I’ll get another.” He lifts it from the case and sps it around my wrist.


    The metal is cold. So is the pit forming in my stomach.


    “You should know…”


    My gaze snaps to his, heart racing. “Know what?”


    “It has a tracker.”


    I jerk my hand back. “Are you serious right now?”


    “Very.” A devilish grin stretches across his face. “Since you were so against the GPS imnt, I thought this was a reasonablepromise.”


    A dry, cuttingugh slips from my throat. “A reasonablepromise? Wow.”


    “I understand this feels extreme to someone like you,” he says, calm as hell. “But in my world, this keeps you safe. If you’re ever separated from my men, this will ensure I know where you are to get to you.”


    “So you’re going to stalk me now?” My eyes narrow.


    “Do you have something to hide?”


    Too much.


    “That’s not the point. I have a life. Outside of this…whatever this is.”


    He leans closer, his tone softer—almost gentle, but carrying quiet dominance. “Your life is now my life, dorogaya. Get used to it.”


    He lifts my hand like it’s fragile, precious, and kisses my knuckles. The warm press of his lips sets my mind on fire, making me forget why I was just pissed at him. A shiver ripples through me, shamefully pleasant.


    It shouldn’t feel good. It shouldn’t light a fuse inside me or make my stomach flutter like he’s more than just a monster in a suit.


    I clench my jaw. I wish I could hate him properly, but he somehow slipped beneath my flesh and rotted me from the inside.


    His grip doesn’t loosen. Instead, his thumb moves in slow, steady circles over my skin, a soothing motion that somehow tightens every muscle within me.


    “You should also know…” he says, almost conversationally. “If you decide to take it off, it has an electric shock mechanism.”


    I blink at him, yanking my hand away.


    “Wow. This just keeps getting better. Tell me more.” My fingers squeeze at myp.


    He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small, ck remote.


    What the hell?


    “I control it.” And with the click of a button, he adds, “Now it’s on.”


    “You’re fucking nuts.”


    He returns to his breakfast, like this is normal. “And yet here we are. Now finish your food. After that, you can return to your apartment.”


    I stare down at the bracelet, a trap masquerading as a gift.


    The longer I look at it, the tighter my chest bes. It’s a pretty little prison, wrapped around my wrist.


    That’s okay, though. I may be his prisoner now, but I won’t stay one for long.