Page 101 of Shadow Waltz

The reminder of my place in the hierarchy should have stung, but the way he said it—with possessive satisfaction rather than cold authority—sent heat racing through my veins instead. This was Luka asserting control, making decisions about my safety without consulting me, and despite my rational mind's protests, some darker part of me responded to the dominance with shameful eagerness.

“Although,” Dmitri added with careful neutrality, “I do think the young man has excellent taste in jazz.”

“See?” I said to Luka. “Dmitri gets it. Troy probably prefers death metal.”

“Classical,” Troy said solemnly. “Specifically, funeral dirges.”

The unexpected dry humor from my usually stoic bodyguard made me grin despite the circumstances. “Well, at least I know what to expect from my security detail. One appreciates jazz, the other practices for my eventual demise.”

“Nobody is dying on my watch,” Luka said, and the sudden steel in his voice reminded me that underneath the warmth and humor, he was still the man who'd built an empire on calculated violence. “Which is why you're getting additional protection whether you want it or not.”

“Fine,” I said, though the word came out more resigned than angry. “But I don't want to look like I'm traveling with my own private army when I'm handling business. Some discretion would be appreciated.”

“Troy and Dmitri know how to be discrete when necessary,” Luka assured me, his fingers tightening slightly on my shoulders in a gesture that was both comforting and possessive. “But make no mistake—your safety comes before any business considerations. That's not negotiable.”

I caught the look that passed between Troy and Dmitri, something that suggested they'd already discussed whatever role they'd be playing in tonight's festivities. The realization that mybirthday celebration involved my bodyguards made my pulse quicken with a mixture of anticipation and apprehension.

“What exactly are you planning?” I asked, though I wasn't sure I wanted the full answer.

“Patience,” Luka said, his voice carrying the kind of authority that made waiting feel like submission wrapped in silk. “You'll understand everything when the time comes. But I promise you'll enjoy it.”

“Famous last words,” I muttered, earning another genuine laugh from Luka that made my chest warm with something dangerously close to affection.

“Trust me,” he said, leaning down to press a soft kiss to the top of my head—a gesture so unexpectedly tender that it took my breath away. “Have I ever given you a reason not to?”

The question hung in the air between us, loaded with implications about trust and power and the strange relationship we'd built from the ashes of ownership and rebellion. Looking up at him, seeing the genuine care beneath the calculating intelligence, I realized that despite everything—despite the collar, despite the circumstances that had brought us together, despite the darkness that surrounded his world—I did trust him.

“Not yet,” I said quietly, and watched satisfaction flicker across his features.

“Good,” Luka said, straightening up and returning to his usual commanding presence. “Actually, before tonight's festivities, I have an errand for you.”

He reached into his jacket and withdrew a sleek black phone, holding it out to me. “This is yours now. Encrypted, secure, with direct access to everyone you might need to reach.”

I stared at the device, understanding the significance immediately. A phone meant freedom of movement, meant trust, meant he was treating me less like property and more like... a partner.

“You're giving me a phone?” I asked, taking it with careful reverence.

“I'm giving you independence,” Luka corrected. “Within reason. The first number programmed in is mine. The second is emergency services as well as Troy and Dmitri’s number. The third is my tailor.”

“Your tailor?”

“Antoni Volkov. He's expecting you this afternoon.” Luka's smile held secrets I couldn't decipher. “You're getting fitted for formal wear.”

“Why do I need formal wear?” I scrolled through the phone's contacts, noting names I recognized from business meetings alongside others I didn't.

“Because there will be a masquerade ball soon, and I want you looking spectacular when we make our first public appearance as partners.” His voice carried pride and possessiveness in equal measure. “The city's elite will be watching, and I intend for them to understand exactly what caliber of man stands beside me.”

The implication made my pulse quicken. A public appearance meant he was claiming me openly, not just in the privacy of business meetings but in front of New York's most powerful people.

“What kind of spectacular are we talking about?” I asked.

“Antoni will know what I want, but the final choices are yours. I trust your judgment.” Luka's grin was sharp and satisfied. “Actually,” Luka continued, settling back in his chair with casual authority, “while you're there, pick out formal wear for Troy and Dmitri as well. If they're going to be shadowing you at public events, they might as well look like they belong in high society.”

“You want me to dress your bodyguards?”

“I want you to make executive decisions about the people under your protection,” he corrected. “Consider it practice for bigger responsibilities.”

The casual way he mentioned bigger responsibilities sent heat racing through my chest. This wasn't just about suits or galas—this was about expanding my role within his organization, about treating me like someone whose judgment mattered.