Page 35 of Mafia King’s Dangerous Vow

His smile thins. “By blood eventually. Soon, one hopes.”

Yakov stops moving. Igor says nothing.

I stand. Kalinin does not step back.

“Careful,” Igor says quietly.

I’m not sure which one of us he means. Tamara’s face flashes behind my eyes—pale in the cathedral, furious in the kitchen, laughing despite herself when I mentioned the Birkin waitlist.

She is not a vessel for alliance. She is not a clause in a contract.

“She’s my wife,” I say. “Not a breeding clause.”

Kalinin’s expression smooths almost immediately.

“My apologies if I offended you.”

“No,” I say. “You miscalculated.”

Silence.

Then Kalinin inclines his head, accepting the correction because men like him survive by knowing when to retreat half an inch.

“Of course.”

Igor picks up the folded paper before the silence can sharpen into something worse. “We’ll verify these names.”

“You should.” Kalinin adjusts his cuff. “The Colombians are patient. They’ll avoid open violence now that the families are visibly aligned. They’ll try to compromise infrastructure instead.”

“Then we cut off the infrastructure,” I say.

“Yes.” Kalinin looks back at me. “Which is why appearances matter. Stability matters. Your marriage matters.”

My marriage. Not my wife. There’s a difference. Kalinin either doesn’t see it or doesn’t care.

“How did you convince her?” I ask.

Igor’s eyes cut to me again. Kalinin goes still, only for half a second, but I see it.

“Convince whom?”

“Tamara.”

His face returns to neutral. “She understands duty.”

“No,” I say. “She understands leverage.”

He chooses not to ask how much I know.

“Tamara is emotional,” Kalinin says lightly. “She always has been. Give her structure, and she’ll settle.”

Give her structure. As if she didn’t build a business, a name, a life deliberately outside his reach.

“You mistake discipline for obedience,” I say.

Igor stands. “We’re done here.”

Kalinin looks at him, then at me. “Of course.” He buttons his jacket. “I’ll expect updates on the Rotterdam matter.”