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The silence stretches between us, filled with the weight of choices that will reshape both our worlds.

Igor’s silence stretches for another thirty seconds. I watch his face, reading the calculations behind those cold eyes. Finally, he speaks.

“I have terms.”

“I’m listening.”

“First—Katarina keeps her company. Full ownership, full control. No interference from you or your family.”

“Agreed.”

“Second—any children you have together will know both sides of their heritage. They’ll understand they’re Lebedevs as much as Ivanovs.”

A fair demand. “Agreed.”

Igor’s fingers drum the table again. “Third—I want a seat at your family’s table. Not as a subordinate but as an equal partner in this alliance. Major decisions get discussed with me.”

This one requires more consideration. Nikolai won’t love sharing power, but the strategic advantages outweigh the complications. “I will have to discuss that with my brother.”

His jaw clenches, but he nods. “Fourth—” Igor leans forward slightly. “If you ever betray my trust, I will end you. Slowly. Alliance or no alliance.”

The threat carries genuine weight. “I’d expect nothing less.”

“And finally—” Igor’s mouth almost curves into something resembling approval. “The wedding happens on neutral ground. Somewhere both families can attend without bloodshed.”

“Sofia’s been planning something at the Ritz-Carlton. High security, controlled guest list.”

“Sofia has good taste.” Igor extends his hand across the table. “Then we have an agreement.”

I take his hand, feeling the calluses of a man who’s built an empire with his own two hands. The handshake is firm, lasting exactly the right amount of time—long enough to seal the deal, short enough to maintain dignity.

“Welcome to the family,” I say, meaning it.

Igor’s grip tightens slightly before he releases my hand. “Take care of her, Erik. She’s stronger than she knows, but even steel can shatter if struck the wrong way.”

“She’ll never have reason to doubt my devotion.”

Igor stands, his guard moving automatically to flank him. “The Petrovs will retaliate for this humiliation.”

“Let them come. They’ll find a united front.”

Igor nods once, a gesture of respect between equals. Then he turns and walks out of the café, leaving me alone with the weight of promises made and a future that suddenly seems possible.

38

EPILOGUE

KATARINA

Six months later…

My hands shake as I reach for the vintage champagne flute Sofia offers me. The bubbles catch the light streaming through the hotel suite's massive windows, creating tiny prisms that dance across my reflection.

“Breathe, darling.” Natasha's voice carries that familiar authority as she adjusts the delicate lace at my shoulders. “You look absolutely gorgeous, but hyperventilation won't complement the dress.”

I take a sip of champagne, letting the cool liquid steady my nerves. The Ritz-Carlton's bridal suite feels surreal—too elegant, too perfect for someone who, three months ago, was dodging bullets in a warehouse.

“I can't believe I’m marrying an Ivanov.”