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“While I appreciate your...enthusiasm for forging alliances with the Petrov bloodline,” Victor says, his tone dripping with mock civility, “I must insist that such arrangements cease immediately upon your marriage to my son. A Petrov bride comes to her marriage without complications. My son does not share well, do you, my boy?”

“No, Father. I do not.”

“I wasn't aware my personal relationships were already under your jurisdiction,” I reply, keeping my voice steady despite the hammer of my pulse. “Our alliance hasn't even been formalized.”

“Everything within these walls is under my jurisdiction, Miss Rossi. Including you, now that you've accepted my hospitality.”

I force myself to take a sip of water, buying precious seconds to compose my response. “I appreciate the clarification. Though I wonder, does your son share your views on ownership?”

“My father and I are in complete agreement on matters of family.”

“How fortunate,” I reply, setting my glass down with deliberate care.

Z clears his throat, drawing his uncle's attention. “Speaking of family matters,” he says, his tone carefully neutral despite the tension radiating from him, “I'm curious about my nephew. When might we meet him?”

Victor's expression shifts, calculation replacing condescension. “In due time. The boy is at our country estate, away from...distractions.”

“Surely his mother deserves to see him,” Talon interjects, speaking for the first time since the meal began.

“Mr. St. James,” Victor replies, his tone glacial, “I don't recall asking for your input.”

“And yet, you've received it,” Talon replies, meeting Victor's stare with unwavering calm. “Vesper deserves to see her son.”

The tension in the room thickens to something almost tangible. I place my hand on Talon's arm, both a warning and a show of solidarity.

“My security chief speaks out of concern for me,” I say smoothly, redirecting Victor's attention. “But he raises a valid point. When can I expect to meet my child?”

Victor studies me over the rim of his glass. “Soon enough. Once certain...arrangements are finalized.”

“You mean once I'm legally bound to your son,” I clarify. “Using my child as leverage seems beneath a man of your stature, Victor.”

A ghost of a smile plays at the corner of his mouth. “Not leverage, my dear. Insurance. In my experience, mothers are unpredictable when reunited with children they've never known. I prefer to ensure your full commitment to our arrangement first.”

“And what exactly does this arrangement entail?” I ask, keeping my voice level even as anger coils tight in my gut.

Victor gestures to a servant who immediately steps forward with a velvet box. He places it on the table between Dmitri and me.

“My son has something for you,” Victor says, nodding to Dmitri.

Dmitri reaches for the box, his movements deliberate as he opens it to reveal a ring that makes my breath catch. The diamond at its center is enormous, at least five carats, surrounded by smaller rubies that match the necklace aroundmy throat. It's ostentatious, a physical manifestation of Petrov wealth and power designed to be seen from across a room.

“A fitting symbol of our alliance,” Dmitri says, his voice revealing nothing as he removes the ring. He extends his hand across the table, palm up, clearly expecting me to place my hand in his.

I hesitate just long enough for tension to thicken the air before slowly extending my left hand. Dmitri's fingers are warm and dry as they close around mine, his grip firm as he slides the ring onto my finger. It's heavy and constricting.

“Perfect fit,” Victor remarks with satisfaction. “Just as I knew it would be.”

Across the table, Z’s expression goes completely blank—that unsettling stillness I’ve come to recognize as a warning sign, the calm that conceals his most volatile emotions. Oscar, meanwhile, studies his plate with unusual intensity, as if it holds the answers to questions no one wants to ask.

“The wedding will take place tomorrow at noon. I’ve arranged for the priest to come to the family chapel on the estate. I’ll send out the necessary invitations to the Russian families and close friends.”

The announcement lands like a grenade at the table. My fingers tighten around my water glass as I process his words.

“Tomorrow? That seems rather...expedient.” The lie spills from my lips easily. I had anticipated the expedition. With my grandfather’s own timeline, acceleration is fine by me. Victor just doesn’t need to know that.

“Dragging things out serves no purpose. Especially considering how eager I am for more heirs. The Petrov legacy must be secured. On that note,” Victor continues, setting down his utensils with deliberate precision, “I've taken the liberty of arranging for a physician to examine you this evening. To verify that your...entanglements haven't resulted in complications.”

My stomach lurches. “Complications?”