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“Both of you.”
When I hesitate, Aleks pushes on. “I know, I know. You don’t want to hide. Leave it up to you, and you’d personally beat the shit out of every one of Volkov’s men and leave no one but Volkov standing, bound and gagged, while he watched you take your wedding vows. We know.”
I growl. “Not a bad idea.”
“You should listen to Lev, though, Mikhail. He’s an expert at this. Yeah, we all want to destroy them, but we have to do it in a lasting way that doesn’t bring blowback we don’t have the manpower to handle.”
I know he’s right. I speak in a low voice when Aria shifts on the bed behind me. I suspect she’ll lose her mind when she hears the word “wedding.”
“Fine. Decoy. Get those in place while we get the wedding prepared.” I blow out a breath. “Make sure their families are compensated.” It could be a death sentence. It helps to play nice with the locals.
“Of course.”
I hang up the phone and think. For some reason, it’s easier to do with the little hacker softly snoring beside me.
I dial Polina.
“What?”
“Didn’t anyone ever tell you how to answer the phone politely?”
I can hear the eye roll in her voice. “Didn’t anyone ever tell you the fact that I answered the phone at all makes you lucky? I don’t answer phone calls, Mikhail. People text in the modern age. Spit it out. What do you need?”
“A wedding dress.”
She’s actually silent for a few seconds before she squeals. “I get to play wedding planner!Yesssss. I knew you wouldn’t let that moratorium pass. Iknewyou wouldn’t. I was so damn excited when you said wedding. Yes, of course, what size? What should it look like, and how much time do we have?”
I don’t miss the note of pride in my sister’s voice. The weight of responsibility hits me. The future of my entire family rests on my shoulders.
“She’s about your size, but a few inches shorter,” I say, letting my gaze rove lazily over the sleeping form of my future wife. It doesn’t matter what she wears. She’ll look gorgeous.
In a few short hours, she’ll be wearing this dress and taking her vows to me. “Surprise me with the style, but donotmake it too revealing.” The thought of any other man’s eyes on Aria’s naked skin makes my hands curl into fists.
“Jesus,” she mutters. “This isn’t the Dark Ages.”
“And we’re not going to a night club. This is my wedding,” I snap. She’s wrong. This very muchisthe Dark Ages, in more ways than she knows.
“Fine, fine, full-length dress, long sleeves, no dipping necklines or sheer panels. Whatever. I’ll get it. Shoes?”
“Yeah.”
“Whatkind?”
I grimace. “How the hell do I know? Nothing too high-heeled, probably.” She wore flats into my office.
My phone’s buzzing with text updates from security about Volkov’s moves. He’s sent a plane to Moscow with several of his men on board.
“Are you even listening to me?” Polina asks.
“Of course.” Something about shoes and accessories. “The details don’t matter as much as the speed does. I need everything here as fast as you can so we can move on. I don’t want to waste time looking over specifics when it doesn’t really matter.”
“Mikhail,” she says, pleading. “I know you’ve been raised to believe that. I know you don’t want to hear anything else. But this stuffdoesmatter.”
“Which is why I called you. I trust you to handle this.”
She blows out another breath. “Why thank you. I’ll call you within an hour.”
“Thank you.”
