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He surveys me, as if forming an opinion that I’m so far unaware of. "You look well," he says finally, leaning back in his chair. "The honeymoon agreed with you, despite the... complications."

"Four attempts on my life isn't what I'd call a complication," I reply dryly. "It's a declaration of war, as far as I’m concerned. I’m almost surprised that you waited until I came home to go after Genovese and his upstart Bratva allies."

My father’s mouth twitches, and he grunts. “Well, you’re alive, aren’t you? And some of it on account of your pretty bride. Suppose you’re glad now that I picked her for you.”

I tap my fingers against the arm of the chair, working to control my irritation. “I wouldn’t have been at the resort if not for her.” Ihavecome around to having Sophia as my wife, more and more with every day, but I’m not about to tell him that. The last thing I want is to cede any ground to him.

He won’t see it as a compromise. He’ll see it as a weakness.

Victor lets out another grunt. “Tell me everything. From the beginning.”

I recount the events at the resort—the waiter with the gun, the guide on our camping excursion, Elia in our room, and finally, the snake in our bed. My father listens without interrupting, his expression growing darker with each attempt I describe. He’s pissed, at least, that his son was targeted, which mostly lays to rest any suspicions I might have had that he had a hand in this. I wasn’t entirely sure that he might not have engineered Genovese and the Slakov Bratva to go after me, to make it seem as if he was blameless, and then declare war on them while choosing another heir.

It sounds dramatic. But crime families have been known to do much worse.

"And your wife?" he asks when I finish. "Sophia? How did she handle all this?"

I pause, considering my words carefully. "She was... remarkable. She saved my life more than once. She's not what I expected."

“So you said.” His brows draw in together. “Explain it to me again.” There’s a sharp, demanding edge to his voice that I think I understand. My father doesn’t like to be caught off guard. He especially doesn’t like to not know all facets of a situation—and it’s clear that there are some facets of Sophia that he was unaware of when he chose her as my bride.

I pause, once again considering before I speak. "She's trained. Well-trained. She can handle herself in a fight, knows how to use weapons, and..." I hesitate, wondering if I should have mentioned Sophia’s part in questioning Elia before. But it’s too late to take it back now. "She helped me interrogate the woman, Elia. She knew exactly what she was doing."

My father's eyebrows rise slightly, the only indication of his surprise. "And how did she explain this?"

I’ve already told him this once before. I wonder if it’s his age showing, or that he wants to double-check my story, to ensurethat I give him the same information twice. Either way, it won’t be to my benefit to remind him that we’ve already talked about this.

"She said her father trained her from a young age. Took her along on jobs, taught her how to fight, how to question people." I lean forward, watching my father's reaction closely. "Did you know about this when you arranged our marriage?"

He scoffs. “Of course not.” That startles me. I’d expected him to lie, if nothing else. Victor Abramov isn’t known for admitting that he’s wrong. “I knew her father had mafia connections, of course, all of that was in her file. But from what I read, she was the perfect lady. Educated abroad, studied the arts, involved in charity. Nothing about this… unfeminine violence.” He waves a hand. “I wouldn’t have considered her for a second if I’d known.”

A flare of resentment burns in my chest. “Well, I’m glad you did.”

My father’s head snaps up, his gaze meeting mine with the same shock I feel. I hadn’t meant for the words to come out of my mouth, but something in me rebelled, instantly, at the idea that he made a mistake in choosing Sophia.

Something I didn’t want has now become something I’m willing to defend.

“She’s not like the other women you’ve tried to match me with before,” I continue, carefully smoothing my tone. “She’s capable. Dangerous.”

One of Victor’s eyebrows rises. “You don’t seem upset about that.” He scoffs again. “Of course not. You would prefer an inappropriate bride. And you took her—where, when you returned home last night? To your penthouse, instead of here?”

I nod.

“You care for her.” His sharp gaze doesn’t miss a beat. “Otherwise, you would have brought her here.”

“I respect her. And I enjoy her company.” I feel my heart thud behind my ribs.Do I care for her?Is it more than lust?The thought makes me feel uneasy. Love has never been a part of my plans. But I can imagine a future with Sophia, where I couldn’t before. A future of our own making, instead of one where I stash her away until it’s time for an heir and otherwise pretend that she doesn’t exist.

“A dangerous woman isn’t the type you want at your side, Konstantin.” My father’s gaze narrows. “A powerful man needs a pliable woman. One who won’t try to have a say in his affairs or cause him any trouble.”

“She won’t cause me trouble.” Even as I say it, I can’t be sure. I clearly don’t know her all that well. If I were being honest, Sophiareeksof trouble. But it’s the kind of trouble that gets my cock hard, apparently.

And I can’t get enough of her. Not yet, anyway.

I’m beginning to wonder if I’ll ever be able to.

“I could annul the marriage.” My father looks at me contemplatively. “It’s not usually done, but I can pay off the necessary people. Get the appropriate paperwork.” We can put an end to this.

The thought of losing Sophia feels like a knife between my ribs. “Absolutely not,” I grind out, my jaw tightening. “She’s my wife. And she’s proved herself loyal—she put herself at risk to save me. I have no intention of abandoning my marriage.”