Page 102 of Captive Prize

I picked up my chair, sat down, and laid my hands flat on the polished wood of the tabletop. Unarmed. A gesture of peace.

“There has to be another way. We don’t kill women. And I won’t let you send her away. If she goes back to Russia, I go with her.”

“The family’s pulling out of Russia. We’ve moved on to greener pastures. You were ordered to relocate here,” Artem said, fingers steepled in front of him.

“I’m aware. If you want me here, if you want my skills, then she stays.”

Damien, Kostya, and Mikhail all groaned. I didn’t blame them. We were going in circles.

I wasn’t budging.

“Okay,” Gregor said, unusually calm. “We don’t trust her. We don’t want her near the family. You won’t work without her.” The corners of his mouth began to curl up. “I have an idea.”

Nothing good ever followed Gregor’s shit-eating grins. I knew that smile. It meant he thought he had you trapped.

“What?” I asked, wary.

“Marry her. Make her one of us. Immediately. You want her? Fine. Make it permanent. We all know how you feel about commitment.”

“Done,” I said without hesitation.

Silence.

Everyone stared at me, waiting for the punch line.

“Wait, what?” Kostya said. “You said you’d never…”

His voice trailed off.

“Call a priest. Or a judge. Get the paperwork. Then Zoya can plan the wedding of her dreams.”

“You don’t even want to think about it?” Pavel asked.

“Nope. I’ve thought enough. Call the judge.”

Artem exhaled sharply.

He leaned back, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“You can’t just marry her,” he said.

“Pretty sure I can. Gregor’s satisfied. I’m satisfied. Either get on board or get the fuck out of the way.”

“It’s up to Zoya,” Artem warned. “If she says no, she’s gone.”

Silence again.

I hadn’t come this far to lose her now.

“Since when have any of us waited for a ‘yes’? I seem to remember several brides being carried to the altar, yours included. Her church language wasn’t exactly saintly.”

The others smirked, stifling laughs behind fists and coughs.

“We did that to give the women we love our last name and the protection that comes with it.”

“I’m protecting Zoya just as much as?—”

“From who?” Gregor interrupted. “Who’s gunning for your bride if she’s not an Ivanov?”

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