"And marrying me fixes that?"
"Marrying you binds our families. Makes hurting the Raiders of Valhalla the same as hurting the Bratva and the Irish mafia. Even the Culebra cartel aren't stupid enough to take us both on."
"So I'm a shield."
"You're a queen," I correct. "Or will be, if you're smart enough to seize it."
She laughs, short and bitter. "Queen of what? Your surveillance kingdom?"
"Queen of Florida. Start there, expand as needed." I step back, give her space. "Your law degree isn't just for show. I'll need someone who understands both sides—legal and illegal."
"You're serious."
"Always."
She studies me in the dying light.
There's something harder in her eyes now.
Something calculating.
Good.
"I won't be passive," she warns. "I won't sit at home popping out babies while you play gangster."
"I'd be disappointed if you did."
"And Njal?—"
"Is done." My voice goes cold. "Whatever you had is over. No contact, no secret meetings, no 'just friends' bullshit. You wanthonesty? There it is. I'm possessive, I'm jealous, and I don't share."
"I wasn't asking to?—"
"I know." I soften slightly. "You were saying goodbye. I understand that. But it's done now."
She nods slowly. "What about you? Any goodbyes you need to say?"
"No."
"No ex-girlfriends? No broken hearts littering your past?"
"I've been waiting for you for five years," I remind her. "Rather kills the dating life."
"You didn't... there was no one?"
"There were women. Transactions, not relationships." I shrug. "Nothing worth a goodbye."
She processes this. "That's somehow worse."
"Is it?"
"Yes. It means I'm marrying a man who sees women as either possessions or transactions."
"I see people as useful or not useful," I correct. "You're the exception."
"Lucky me."
The door opens, and a woman I don’t recognize appears. "Rev, we need to—oh. Sorry."