Keira stirred awake, her mind a tempest of restlessness. Sleep eluded her like a fleeting dream, with an unfamiliar energy coursing through her veins, urging her to rise and take action. As she peeled off her clothes, confusion washed over her; these weren’t the garments she'd worn to Romanov’s or even those she had hastily packed. The absence of memory regarding changing her clothes cloaked her in an unsettling haze. Had that infuriating Russian done this to her? The thought sent an icy shiver up her spine. What troubled her more—the realization that he had seen her exposed, vulnerable, or the haunting reminder that he witnessed her when she was at her most defenseless? Keenly aware of her desire to armor herself against the world, Keira stepped into the bathroom. It sprawled before her with the luxurious expanse of a small apartment, boasting a tiled walk-in shower and double sinks atop a counter that could easily accommodate sleep. The palette of dark grays embedded with deep reds screamed decadence. A doorway beckoned, leading into a giant walk-in closet, and she swept through the array of clothing displayed like soldiers standing at attention in their cubicles. As she rifled through the garments, delight and disbelief flickered across her face. Everything fit her perfectly—even the shoes, snug and inviting. It was typical of Dmitri Romanov, predictable in his high-handed behavior. He ruled his world with an iron fist, meticulously bending others to his whims and purposes. But she would not be another mere pawn in his game; she was far too stubborn to be molded like the others before her. Keira contemplated adorning herself, perhaps putting on a bit of show for him. But she instantly dismissed the notion; Dmitri would effortlessly see through any charade she attempted. He commanded this territory, and he wielded his power with ruthless efficiency. Instead, she resolved to play her cards differently, striking against expectations to catch him unawares. She had yet to determine her endgame, yet she was resolute—she would not submit to the role of the obedient wife just because she had uttered vows at the altar. If only he had given her a fair chance, a moment of genuine connection—perhaps she would have responded in kind. Instead, he resorted to heavy-handed tactics reminiscent of her brother’s style, then locked her away for an unknown eternity—how long, she could scarcely determine. Long enough for her to ruminate over her choices and sweat out every intoxicating indulgence she had previously embraced. The decision to confine her had been his, a reckless theft of her autonomy. Dmitri would pay for his overreach, just as he would for the menacing threat that had lured her from the safety of her home and into that damn chapel. She stepped into what was meant to be a quick shower, but soon realized how grimy she felt. The expensive shampoo and soap enveloped her in a fragrant intoxicating scent of roses. As the warm water cascaded down, it coaxed the tension from her shoulders, allowing her racing thoughts to gradually surrender to tranquility for the first time since she had left the O’Malley home and stepped into Dmitri’s car. She mused that Romanov wouldn’t countenance open rebellion—not openly. He might anticipate resistance, but allowing her unfettered freedom would only compromise his precarious position—the very foundation of why he married her in the first place. He likely had fortified against insubordination like one prepares a house for curious children. The last thing he would expect was her compliance—or at least, the semblance of it. Keira was ready to play the game; she might be rusty, but it wouldn’t take her long to regain her footing. The machinations of the Romanov family operated much the same as the O’Malleys. Dmitri would undoubtedly desire children eventually, but that was a bridge she would cross when the time arrived. For now, he wouldn’t dare press for that outcome until his power was securely solidified. In the meantime, she resolved to thwart him at every possible juncture. Outright rebellion wasn’t the path she was inclined to take, but neither would she make his conquest easy. The conditions laid out by Romanov were crisp in her mind—so long as she remained in his household as his wife, he wouldn’t pursue war with her family. The thought of everything he cherished crumbling to ashes was a tantalizing prospect, but the risks were too grave; Aiden and the others were her priority, and she wouldn’t let her choices put them in jeopardy. But compliance didn’t equate to congeniality. She had every intention of making Dmitri’s life a quiet hell, a lingering annoyance that he could scarcely tolerate. She envisioned herself as a pebble in his shoe, a thorn in his side, the itch just beyond his reach. As long as she skirted the precipice of defiance, the worst he could do was administer punishment to her—not to Aiden, not to the O’Malleys. Whatever he dealt her, she would endure, and as sure as the sun rose, she would come back swinging the moment she had an opening. Dmitri might think he could purchase her and that would settle the matter, but she was no one’s possession. If he intended to keep her caged, she would ensure that his life became a trial of sleepless nights and gnawing frustrations until he relented. And if she found some enjoyment along the way? Well, she never claimed to be a paragon of virtue. With her hair dried and a careful touch of makeup to mask the evidence of her recent struggles, she slipped into a pair of jeans and a loose tank top. The bright red bra was displayed with each movement—a perfect blend of casual yet alluring. "Chew on that, Romanov,” she thought with a smirk. Glancing in the mirror one last time halted her in her tracks. Even with makeup, the reflection revealed someone who had borne too much; her skin was too pale, cheeks drawn, and her once-lustrous mane seemed lifeless. That was a problem demanding immediate attention—she needed to regain her strength. Charlie had introduced her to Krav Maga, and she was determined to pursue training relentlessly. Never again would she allow herself to feel helpless. With her mind set on the future, her thoughts turned to facing the storm—Dmitri himself—and establishing her own terms. Meanwhile, Dmitri sensed a presence enter his office but chose to remain fixated on his financial entries. He didn’t need to look up to recognize the visitor; whoever it was, Mikhail wouldn’t have permitted entry if they were a threat. Laying down his pen, he finally glanced up, focused on Keira. She glided across the plush gray carpet, slumping into one of the chairs before him like a queen in casual attire. Her foot swung gently, and an involuntary possessiveness bubbled within him at the sight of her bare foot traversing his space. “You’re awake,” he acknowledged. “I want to renegotiate the terms.” Her declaration struck him unexpectedly, though he struggled to mask it. “We didn’t negotiate to begin with.” “Oh, but we did. Your peace in exchange for me.” She straightened, grounding herself, demanding attention. “I want an addendum.” What could she possibly desire beyond what was already afforded to her? Dmitri hadn’t taken the time to meticulously explain the benefits of her new life, but judging by the outfit she wore, she had clearly discovered the extensive wardrobe he had arranged for her. Leaning back, an eyebrow arched, he offered her a bemused smile. “An account in your name awaits you. I’ll have deposits made on the first of every month for you to use as you wish.” She met his gaze unflinchingly. “I expect nothing less.” So audacious. The boldness, whilst infuriating, intrigued him. “Outline your addendum.” “I want access to a local Krav Maga gym,” she asserted with confidence. “Consider it done—though one of my men will accompany you to and from, and I will choose a trustworthy facility.” Her eyes rolled, the gesture revealing her exasperation. “Fine.” That was remarkably uncomplicated. She had clearly settled into the role of a fighter. But her proposition had a deeper undercurrent. Leaning back into his chair, he picked up his pen. “If that’s all—” “It’s not.” She crossed her legs and leaned forward, her shirt slipping down to reveal a lacy red bra, momentarily exposing her curves before she settled back again. Dmitri’s heart raced; she knew how to wield her allure without effort. “You’ll want heirs.” Dmitri instantly went still, the unexpected weight of her words hanging in the air. While he had not voiced the intricacies of parenthood during their earlier discussions, it was an inevitable truth. Yet he never anticipated her bringing it up so boldly. “Yes.” “You’ll have them,” she continued, locking her cold haze onto his. “But on my terms. We don’t have sex until I choose to.” “I am not going to force you, Keira.” The mere thought that she held that belief bothered him more than he’d cared to admit. She waved her hand dismissively, an elegant gesture that only highlighted her defiance. “No shit. You’re a monster, but let’s not mislead one another. It’s going to happen, one way or another. You know it; I know it. You have set your mind on seducing me—believe me, I won't fall like a domino, but resisting you will be a battle within me and with you.” He stifled his first impulse, considering her with newfound intrigue. It was no secret she was drawn to him, evident in their prior encounters, with slivers of temptation teasing at their edges. Managed restraint had been his approach until now, thanks to Dr. Jones’s caution against her emotional vulnerabilities. But here she was, striking a bold claim. He leaned closer, curiosity pricking at him. “You want me.” “Don’t make me say it twice.” She shook her head in refusal. “The point is, you will not sway me to sex. When I decide it’s time, you’ll know it without ambiguity.” A laugh escaped him, almost a reflex. “No.” “What do you mean, no?” Her incredulity flared like fire. “I mean no. Nyet. Whatever you prefer. As you stated, I want you; you want me. I refuse to force you, though we both recognize I won’t have to.” “Arrogant prick.” “Without a doubt,” he returned, his tone steady. Nothing about it was conceit; it was simple honesty wrapped in undeniable truth. Yet, he understood the greater game in play. Keira yearned for control, and he acknowledged that need, even as he held firm on certain essentials. They would consummate the marriage, sooner rather than later, but not through coercion. “You may choose when we have sex, but I intend to seduce you at my leisure.” She blinked, processing his declaration. “Seduce at will. You seriously just said that.” “Da. Because it’s the truth.” He took her in—her frame, still weary but undeniably striking—her potential strength palpable beneath the surface. “We will have dinner tonight.” “No.” “We will have dinner tonight,” he repeated, emphasizing every word. “There are matters in motion that you need to be aware of, and I will not chase you around this house to keep you informed as events unfold.” He couldn’t quite quell the thought of pursuing her, but he pushed it away. “Seven.” “I’m not some dog you can simply call when it’s convenient.” She wrestled with something, her chin trembling slightly. “But I’ll think about it.” Curiosity intensified, burrowing deeper. She was conceding, yet not entirely as a result of his acquiescence. The shift in her demeanor was striking; she no longer cowered in fear, but her spirit hadn’t fully rekindled to the fierce woman he had once gotten glimpses of. Instead, it seemed she had reached a point of negotiation—bending without breaking. Exactly what that shift meant puzzled him. “If you attempt anything violent, it won’t end well for you.” “Aww, Russian, you almost sound scared.” She jumped to her feet, executing a mock curtsy that made him chuckle despite the tension hanging in the air. Watching her retreat, he couldn’t ignore the stark contrast before him. Too many missed meals had left her slight frame barely holding together, yet within her was the unmistakable thread of beauty—a complexity that demanded respect. Keira had not been cared for as she deserved, certainly not by Aiden, and yet it was evident that underneath the bruises and scars, she could become a formidable force if only she gave herself the freedom to grow. Mikhail entered the room, leaving the door ajar. “Better to put her in her place now than indulge this.” Speaking in their native Russian, he continued, knowing the risks of addressing his boss’s choices. During their tenure together, Dmitri was unsure how much of the language Keira comprehended. “If I wanted your opinion, I’d ask for it.” Mikhail hesitated but pressed on, asserting his position as second-in-command. “You might have her cowed, or she could be playing a deeper game to undermine everything you’ve worked for.” It was a possibility, and one he could not afford to ignore, even if it lingered at the fringes of likelihood. Given how formidable Aiden O’Malley had proven, it was entirely plausible Keira could be hiding something… shaking his head dismissively, Dmitri responded, “Nyet. Aiden O’Malley would never jeopardize his sister like this. Not Keira. Carrigan? Perhaps. But not Keira.” Aiden’s devotion to family was unwavering, painfully obvious to any who chose to observe. He was a man who would go to lengths for his siblings, a loyalty that foretold Aiden would once again ally with Keira to confront the Eldridge women. Predictable, honorable, and bound by family ties… he would never betray her. But Keira? Dmitri found himself at a loss, unable to definitively ascertain the currents that swirled beneath her surface, or the path she would take next.