“Overdue.” He pulls me against his chest, wrapping an arm around my waist. “Sleep. We’ll deal with everything else later.”
I want to argue, to establish that this doesn’t change anything about our arrangement, that sex doesn’t make this marriage real in ways beyond legal structures.
Exhaustion wins. I close my eyes and let myself drift, pressed against a man who just made me come apart twice and who I still can’t decide if I hate or something far more dangerous.
The complications can wait until morning.
Chapter Seventeen - Felix
I wake at six, body clock trained to early mornings regardless of how late I stayed awake.
Diana is still asleep beside me, curled on her side facing away, dark hair spilling across the pillow in tangles from where my hands fisted in it hours ago.
The memory surfaces with clarity that makes my pulse quicken—her gasping my name, nails digging into my shoulders, the tight heat of her body accepting me for the first time.
The knowledge that no one else has touched her this way settles differently in the morning light. Not triumph, though some primitive part of me registers satisfaction at being the only man who’s had her. It’s heavier than that.
She trusted me enough to surrender completely despite every reason not to. That trust feels more valuable than operational wins I’ve spent years securing.
I shift carefully, not wanting to wake her, and prop myself on one elbow to study her in the dim dawn filtering through the curtains. Her face in sleep carries none of the wariness she maintains while conscious. The crease between her brows has smoothed, her mouth slightly parted, breathing deep and even.
There’s a faint bruise on her throat where I marked her, leaving evidence visible enough that anyone who sees her will know she’s been claimed. The territorial satisfaction I feel looking at it should concern me more than it does.
What began as strategic marriage—protection through legal structures that made her untouchable—has altered me in ways I didn’t anticipate. The protectiveness I told myself was operational necessity has become personal. Visceral.
Diana stirs slightly, her hand reaching across the bed before settling on the pillow beside her. The unconscious gesture suggests she’s checking my presence even in sleep. I catch her wrist gently, feeling her pulse beneath my fingers.
She’s mine now.
I release her wrist and slip out of bed quietly, pulling on pants before heading to the office down the hall. Sleep won’t return anyway, and there’s work that requires attention before Diana wakes.
The first order of business is security. I pull up surveillance feeds showing the estate perimeter, reviewing overnight reports from the rotating guard teams.
Two incidents flagged: vehicles that slowed near the east fence around 3:00 a.m., different plates but similar make and model suggesting coordinated observation.
I call Oleg before seven.
“The vehicles near the east perimeter,” I say when he answers. “Run the plates through our system and cross-reference with known Sartore contractors.”
“Already did.” His tone is carefully neutral. “Both trace to a private security firm Lorenzo used last year for warehouse monitoring. They’re watching movement patterns, probably trying to identify vulnerabilities.”
“Neutralize them.” The decision comes without hesitation. “Quietly. I want whoever’s running surveillance to know we’re aware, but I don’t want Lorenzo to have confirmation we’ve moved directly against his people.”
“Got it, Boss. What’s the escalation protocol if they resist?”
I consider that briefly. Killing Sartore contractors triggers responses I’d rather avoid while other pressures are alreadybuilding, but letting them continue surveillance creates risks I won’t accept.
“Non-lethal containment. Detain them long enough to send a message, then release them somewhere inconvenient. Make it clear the estate perimeter is off-limits.”
“I’ll handle it personally.”
The call ends. I pull up the file tracking Diana’s protection protocols and add new parameters—standing orders that her safety overrides routine shipments if resources conflict, authorization for lethal force against any direct threat regardless of organizational affiliation, expanded security detail whenever she leaves the estate grounds.
The changes represent a shift my men will notice. Civilians don’t typically warrant this level of protection, especially when operational priorities are already strained by Sartore escalation.
Diana isn’t a typical civilian anymore. She’s my wife. That means something beyond paperwork.
A message from Pavel arrives while I’m reviewing the updated protocols.
