Page 251 of The Devil's Thorn
I leaned forward just slightly, elbows on the arms of the chair, fingers steepled. “And what would she get in return?”
“Your name. Your protection. And maybe, if the gods are bored enough—your child.”
The room stayed quiet for a beat. Even Yuri didn’t breathe. I let it sit there. Didn’t flinch. Didn’t laugh. Just studied him.
Because I wasn’t offended. I was calculating.
“It’s a generous offer,” I said finally. “One that deserves consideration.”
His chin lifted just slightly.
But then I added— “But I don’t make decisions based on pressure. Or timelines. Or who shows up with a daughter and a smile.”
He paused.
“This isn’t pressure, Romanov. It’s opportunity.”
“Then leave the door cracked. And don’t mistake silence for agreement.”
He didn’t answer right away. Just sat back. Assessing. Like this was still his game. But I could see the flicker behind his eyes. The calculation. The silent grinding of wheels as he tried to figure out why I hadn’t bit. Why the hook didn’t work.
And then—he smiled. Not the kind you offer in peace. The kind you give when you think you’ve figured out the answer.
“Tell me,” he said, voice smooth, casual. “The girl you’ve been parading around… is she pregnant?”
The words landed like smoke. Thick. Provocative. A deliberate test.
His gaze didn’t waver. He wanted a reaction.
He wasn’t going to get one.
I stayed exactly where I was, fingers steepled, spine straight, not a single twitch betraying the shift in my blood.
Inside, though?
That smile made something tighten. Because he didn’t sayIsabella.But he didn’t have to.
“She isn’t,” I said flatly. “For now.”
That last part—I let it hang. Not a threat. Not a promise. Just a truth no one else in this room deserved to understand.
His eyes narrowed slightly, but the smile didn’t fade. “For now,” he repeated. “Well. That makes sense.”
I didn’t answer. I wanted to see where he was going with it.
“You’d have to be blind not to notice her,” he went on. “Beautiful thing. Sharp. She walks like she knows you’d kill for her. Like she wouldn’t mind doing it herself, either.”
I let my jaw shift slightly. Just enough to crack the silence. “Careful,” I said. “You’re talking about someone who doesn’t tolerate being spoken for.”
“I’m not judging,” he said, lifting his hands slightly in mock surrender. “Just wondering why you’d pass on a diplomatic solution in favor of one you can’t control.”
That was the mistake. He thought control was about chains. He didn’t understand the kind that came without them.
I exhaled once through my nose. “If she were pregnant,” I said, “you wouldn’t be sitting here.”
He studied me for a moment, then gave a slow nod—almost like he respected it. Or hated that he did.
“Well then,” he said, “if what you say is true, I think it’s only fair that you meet my daughter. Can’t have you turning down a ghost.”
