Page 48 of The Pakhan's Dangerous Secret
The question catches me off guard. "What?"
"Am I still locked in that room? Still under guard twenty-four, seven?" She meets my gaze, and I see the challenge there. "Or am I actually your wife?"
I lean back in my chair, considering. "You're my wife. But you'll always have guards around you. For your protection."
"Protection." She says the word like it tastes bitter. "Right."
"Mariya, you saw what just happened with Bogdan. You heard what he said. Other families are going to find out about you, about what we found. You need protection."
"And when can I go back to work?" She picks up her coffee cup, her fingers wrapping around it like she needs something to hold onto. "At the library?"
The question makes my chest tighten. I don't have an answer for her. The truth is, I have no idea if or when she can return to that life. The moment she became my wife, everything changed. She's a target now, and the library is too exposed, too vulnerable.
"I don't know," I admit.
She sets down her cup, and I see the disappointment flash across her face. "So I'm just supposed to stay here? In this house? Forever?"
"Not forever. Just until things settle down."
"And when will that be?"
"I don't know," I say again, and I hate how helpless it makes me sound.
We finish breakfast in tense silence. I can feel her frustration radiating across the table, but I don't know how to fix it. I can't promise her freedom when I don't know if I can keep her safe.
An idea strikes me as we're finishing our coffee. It's impulsive, probably stupid, but I find myself saying it anyway.
"Come with me," I tell her. "I want to take you somewhere."
She eyes me suspiciously. "Where?"
"Shopping."
"Shopping?" She looks at me like I've lost my mind. "You want to take me shopping?"
"You need clothes." I stand and offer her my hand. "As my wife, you'll need to be ready for anything. From a walk in the woods to a formal ball."
"I have clothes."
"You have jeans and T-shirts. And conservative library attire." I pull her to her feet. "You need more than that."
She opens her mouth to argue, but I see something flicker in her eyes. Excitement. She's trying to hide it, but it's there.
Two hours later, we're standing in the third boutique I own. I've had them all closed for the day, with only a couple of employees present to help. Mariya stands in the middle of the store, surrounded by racks of designer clothes, and I can see she's overwhelmed.
"Try this on." I hand her a dress, something simple but elegant in deep green that will match her eyes.
She takes it, her fingers running over the silk fabric. "This is too much."
"Nothing is too much for my wife." I guide her toward the dressing room. "Go on."
She disappears behind the curtain, and I settle into one of the plush chairs positioned outside. The employee, a young woman who looks anxious and excited, hovers nearby, ready to help if needed.
When Mariya emerges, my breath catches. The dress fits her perfectly, hugging her curves and falling to just above her knees. The color makes her eyes look even more vibrant, and her blonde hair falls in soft waves over her shoulders.
"Fuck," I breathe.
She blushes, and it's the first time I've seen her look genuinely shy. "It's too much."
