Page 88 of Obsessive Vows

I almost smile at how he wraps what he wants in practical terms—typical Viktor, hiding the man behind the operative. "Very practical," I say, my voice cooler than the heat coursing through my veins. "Maybe we should talk about the... less practical aspects when Sofia isn't watching our every move."

His pupils widen, hunger flashing across his face before he locks it down. "Agreed. Some conversations aren't meant for little ears with big brains."

Sofia twists in his arms, fixing me with those eerie silver eyes—so like her father's—and reaches one imperious hand toward me. My body responds before my mind decides, moving into their space as if pulled by invisible strings.

I cross some invisible line stepping close to them, and I know it. Viktor passes Sofia to me, our fingers brushing in a way that feels anything but accidental. The contact sends electricity through me, bringing back flashes of tangled sheets and Paris darkness.

Sofia settles against me, her familiar weight anchoring me as her tiny hand pats my cheek. She smells of baby powder and something that's uniquely her—a scent that calms me instantly.

"The engagement party's in five days," Viktor says, voice low enough that only I can hear. "Back to playing our parts."

Reality crashes in—the dangerous world waiting beyond these walls, watching our every move. The ceremony will pull in power players from all over Eastern Europe, everyone looking for weakness, for advantage.

"My father called this morning," I say, automatically turning Sofia away from the windows. "Everything's set—guest list, security, the whole show."

"We need to be on the same page," Viktor says, shifting to shield Sofia with his body. The movement is pure instinct, not calculation, and it hits me how much fatherhood has already changed him. "Everyone will be watching us closely."

"Nikolai Petrov worries me," I admit, tightening my hold on Sofia. "Those comments about my Swiss 'projects' weren't just small talk. He's fishing for something."

"The extraction was perfect," Viktor counters, though his eyes narrow. "Every checkpoint clean, no trail."

"His interest is too specific to be random." My heart speeds up despite knowing we're safe right now. "That line about my 'independent studies'—he meant something by it."

Viktor steps closer, instinctively creating another barrier between Sofia and any potential threat. I can feel his body heat, smell his clean, masculine scent—the same one that haunted me for months after Paris.

"We'll watch him at the ceremony," he promises, voice hardening. "Every move, every conversation. If he so much as hints he knows about Sofia, we pull her out immediately."

The shared need to protect our daughter creates a bridge between us, something solid amid all the complications and lies.

"We need something more permanent than just plans," I say, a solution crystallizing in my mind. "Something legal, something outside the Bratva's reach."

His eyes sharpen, mind working fast. "Legal documentation. Parental rights. A real marriage license, recognized by legitimate authorities."

"Exactly," I say, meeting his gaze directly. "Our arrangement works for now, but legal papers give Sofia protection no matter what—inheritance, custody, finances—all secure regardless of what happens in the Bratva."

"You're suggesting we make this marriage real?" His voice stays steady, but something flickers in his expression—something personal beneath the tactical mask.

"I'm suggesting we protect our daughter with everything available to us," I clarify, my heart pounding so hard I'm sure he can hear it. "Legal marriage creates a family unit that's protected no matter what."

The silence between us isn't just about strategy—it's charged with possibilities neither of us has dared mention. A future beyond security threats and Bratva games.

"From fake engagement to real marriage," he says softly, the gentleness in his voice catching me off guard. "Performance becoming reality."

"For Sofia," I insist, needing to keep some kind of boundary, even as my body betrays me with its awareness of him. "Legal protection, that's all."

"For Sofia," he agrees, but his eyes tell a different story. "And maybe something more than just paperwork."

Before I can respond, Sofia starts squirming against me—her telltale sign that nap time is approaching and she's planning to fight it. I'm almost grateful for the distraction from the dangerous territory we're entering.

"Nap time's coming," I say, relieved to focus on something simpler.

"I'll handle nap duty," Anna says, appearing beside us with suspiciously perfect timing. "You two probably have things to discuss without tiny observers."

Her knowing look makes me realize how obvious our tension must be. The electricity between us—stubborn despite everything complicated between us—is apparently visible to anyone paying attention.

Viktor hands Sofia to Anna reluctantly, his fingers lingering as if memorizing how she feels before letting go. His hand brushes mine during the exchange, a touch that shoots heat straight through me.

Once Anna takes Sofia away, the air between us changes—charged with everything we're not saying. The marriage conversation, the pull between us, the future neither of us planned for.

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