Chapter 165
Evelyn's POV
I wanted to argue. Wanted to insist that Nikolai had forfeited any right to try the moment he'd put me through Vorkuta. But I was too tired. Too wrung out. And some small, traitorous part of me kept thinking about that inscription. About the man who'd loved my mother enough to keep her book for twenty-six years.
"Can we not talk about this right now?" I asked. "Please?"
Julian squeezed my hand. "Of course. What do you want to talk about instead?"
"Anything. Everything. Nothing." I closed my eyes. "Tell me about the wedding plans. What did you change? What stayed the same?"
So he did. For the next hour, Julian walked me through every detail of the rescheduled ceremony. The florist who'd miraculously agreed to recreate the arrangements. The caterer who'd been surprisingly understanding about the date change. The guests who'd all confirmed they could make the new date.
His voice was soothing. Familiar. It grounded me in the present instead of letting me spiral into the complicated mess of my past. And gradually, the knot of tension in my chest began to ease.
I was almost drifting off again when another knock sounded at the door. This time Julian didn't tense. He just called out, "Come in."
Weber entered carrying a tablet. "Sorry to interrupt, but we've got a situation that requires both your attention."
Julian straightened. "What kind of situation?"
"The kind where your future father-in-law just tried to bribe three of our security contractors into letting him run an independent assessment of the wedding venue." Weber's tone was carefully neutral but I could hear the exasperation underneath. "He's currently in Conference Room B making what he calls 'suggestions' about our defensive protocols. Which sound an awful lot like orders."
Julian closed his eyes. "Of course he is."
Despite everything—the pain, the exhaustion, the emotional whiplash of the past three days—I felt a laugh bubble up. It hurt my ribs but I couldn't stop it. "He tried to bribe your people?"
"Offered them each fifty thousand dollars to 'consult' on the security arrangements," Weber confirmed. "To their credit, they all declined and reported it immediately. But he's not taking no for an answer."
Julian looked at me. "I should probably go deal with this before he starts a diplomatic incident."
"Probably," I agreed. Then, surprising myself, "Take me with you."
Both men stared at me.
"Evelyn, you just woke up after being unconscious for forty hours," Julian said carefully. "You should rest. Let me handle—"
"I'm not going to rest knowing he's down there trying to commandeer your security team." I pushed myself up despite the protest of every muscle. "Besides, if anyone's going to tell him to back off, it should be me."
Julian looked like he wanted to argue. But something in my expression must have convinced him. He sighed. "Fine. But you're using a wheelchair and if you start looking pale we're coming straight back here."
"Deal."
Ten minutes later—after I'd convinced the nurses I wasn't going to immediately collapse—Weber was pushing me in a wheelchair toward Conference Room B. Julian walked beside me, one hand resting on my shoulder. Protective but not controlling.
We could hear Nikolai before we even reached the door. His voice carried through the hallway—crisp, authoritative, speaking rapid Russian to someone on the phone.
"Da, ya ponimaju. No tri cheloveka nedostatochno. Mne nuzhno minimum shest' operativnikov na vnutrennem perimitre—" Yes, I understand. But three people are insufficient. I need a minimum of six operatives on the inner perimeter—
Julian pushed open the door without knocking. Nikolai broke off mid-sentence. Turned to face us. His expression flickered through several emotions before settling on carefully neutral.
"Evelyn. You should be resting."
"And you should be respecting the boundaries I set less than an hour ago." I kept my voice level. Calm. "What are you doing?"
"Ensuring your safety." He pocketed his phone. "Russell's security is competent but insufficient for the level of threat you're likely to face. I'm merely providing additional resources."
"By bribing his contractors and running an unauthorized assessment of a venue you're not even invited to?"
Nikolai's jaw tightened. "I don't need an invitation to protect my daughter."
"Yes," I said flatly. "You do. Because I'm not asking for your protection. I'm asking for space. And you're not giving it to me."
"Space won't keep you alive if someone decides to use your wedding as an opportunity for an attack."
"Neither will your interference." I leaned forward despite the pull on my ribs. "You want to help? Then coordinate with Julian's team like you said you would. Remotely. Without trying to take over. Without bribing people or making demands. Can you do that?"
Nikolai looked at me for a long moment. Then at Julian. Then back at me.
"You're marrying a man who couldn't even protect you from six of my operatives," he said. His tone wasn't cruel. Just—factual. "Russell is skilled but he's not in my league. How is he supposed to keep you safe from threats he can't even anticipate?"
"The same way he's kept me safe for the past three months," I shot back. "By trusting me. By fighting with me instead of for me. By treating me like a partner instead of an asset to be protected."
"That's a lovely sentiment." Nikolai's voice had gone cold. "But sentiment doesn't stop bullets. Sentiment doesn't prevent poisoning. Sentiment doesn't save lives when real threats emerge."
"No," Julian said quietly. "But love does."
Both Nikolai and I turned to look at him.