Page 52 of Mr. and Mrs. Novak

As if he’s reading my thoughts, Ruslan adds,

"But before we go any further, we need to put our cards on the table. No more lies. The situation is too serious to keep secrets. You could have died tonight."

His voice breaks on the last words, and I realize he cares about me more than he wants to admit. The thought of losing me is that unbearable to him?

"I want you to know there’s nothing between Natasha and me," he continues. "That supposed love story was completely fabricated. I only got close to her because I discovered her husband was using my company to transport illegal goods. I don’t love her. I never have."

I try to process what he’s telling me as he continues his confession.

"I asked someone to falsify the photos you saw because you were getting too interested in Stanford. I wanted you to stop asking questions about him before he noticed you. But apparently, you still managed to put yourself in danger."

His story with Natasha was entirely fabricated.

He doesn’t love her.

The relief that washes over me is so intense it almost makes me forget the most important part. Almost.

"Am I dreaming," I snap, "or are you seriously trying to come up with a bullshit excuse for manipulating me?"

Startled by my tone, he turns to face me. Whatever he sees in my eyes wipes the confidence right off his face. He suddenly understands that he’s no longer in control. Real concern flashes across his features; he swallows hard, aware of what’s at stake.

Good. Let him struggle a bit. He deserves it.

As we lock eyes, I see something shift in him. His body relaxes, his features soften—it’s as if he’s lowering every wall he’s ever built, standing completely exposed in front of me.

"I’m sorry," he says suddenly, with a vulnerability I’ve never seen in him. "For lying to you. For manipulating you. For putting you in danger. I would understand if you wanted to cut ties and erase me from your life once this is over. But please… let me help you. I don’t know exactly what you’re caught up in, but someone wants you dead. Let me protect you. I have resources—we can hire bodyguards…"

He pauses, as if what he’s about to say costs him more than everything else.

"And if you want to leave after all this… I’ll let you go. If that’s what you want."

"Is that what you want?" I ask cautiously.

"God, no. Marrying you is the best thing I’ve ever done."

I mull over his words. I know he thought he was protecting me—but it was a damn stupid idea. Anger flares hot and sharp. Without a word, I get off the bed and land a perfect spinning punch straight into his stomach—so clean my Krav Maga instructor would have been proud.

Ruslan’s breath leaves him in a harsh wheeze, and he doubles over in pain.

"Next time you try to manipulate me," I warn coldly, "I’ll give you a real self-defense lesson. From now on, no secrets. One more lie, and I’m gone."

"Understood," he rasps.

He straightens slowly, but doesn’t touch me right away. When he finally steps closer, his movements are cautious, deliberate. He cups my face as though giving me time to pull away.

"If you want to explain," he says softly, "I’m listening."

I decide to give him part of the truth. He deserves that much. After all, he risked his life for me tonight.

"I’m a hacker," I finally say. "I infiltrate systems, collect sensitive information, and pass it on to the authorities."

He remains silent for a moment, processing, then asks,

"What did you do to make them try to kill you?"

"This time, I really pissed someone off. Because of me, customs intercepted one shipment of weapons and another of drugs. They lost millions."

His arms tighten around me, his whole body going rigid.