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“I already have headlines written,” Aleksei said, smoothing out the sleeve of his jacket. “If this breaks, he won’t be able to show his face at a urinal without the press dissecting it.”

“Sergei?” I asked.

He shifted his weight. “I’ve already pinged two of the drivers through old channels. Quietly. If they bite, we follow the chain, lock them into position. Trap closes when we say it does.”

“We’ll get him,” Sloane nodded, her confidence written all over her face, and damn if that wasn’t one of the sexiest things I’d ever seen.

Then I decided something.

“Everyone out,” I said.

The command cut clean through the room.

Maxim raised an eyebrow. Ivan paused. Aleksei froze mid-sip of vodka. No one argued, though. They stood, gathered their files, and filed out without a word. Charlie gave me a look—tense, nervous—but nodded once and followed.

The door shut.

Sloane looked up at me.

“What is it?”

I didn’t answer.

I stood, reached for her, took her hand, and pulled her up from the chair. She stood, uncertain now, her eyes narrowing like she was trying to figure out what I had up my sleeve.

I looked at her for a long moment, at the way her lips parted, the worry on her brow, and the steel buried beneath the softness of her face. Then I told her how it was going to go.

“We’re getting married tomorrow.”

Her breath caught.

“What?” she asked. Voice small. Her gaze seemed hopeful, yet still anxious.

“Tomorrow,” I said again firmly. “Before the sting. Before the press. Before anyone has a chance to touch you again or twist your name into something it isn’t.”

She stared at me, not blinking, breath bated.

“You’re serious.”

I stepped closer, pressed my hand flat against her lower back.

“I’m not waiting. Not one more day. I want you wearing my name. My ring. I want every reporter, every cop, every backroom bastard in this city toknowthat you’re mine.”

Her lips parted.

“But—”

“No hiding either,” I said. “No secrecy. I want it lavish. Loud. I don’t care how much it costs. The kind of wedding that makes people talk. Let them whisper about the mayor’s daughter marrying the Bratva king.”

She didn’t speak for a long second. Then she exhaled—shaky, stunned—and let her hand slide up to rest over my chest, right where my heartbeat was pounding behind my ribs.

“Okay,” she whispered.

Tomorrow, she was going to become my wife.

But later tonight, she’d be over my knee learning what happened when you disobeyed a king… even if you earned your place at his side.

CHAPTER 34