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“They’re ready for both of us to sign.”

“What do you want in return?”

“Nothing.” I hear the lie as soon as I say it.

One corner of her mouth lifts. “You don’t prepare documents like these for nothing.”

“I prepared them because the first paper between us called you property.” I take her hand and turn it palm up. “The Blacklist claim is dead. These papers give you custody, money, a home, your own protection, and the right to leave.”

“Why give me an exit when you know I could use it?” She steps closer, waiting for the answer I left out of every document.

“Because I want you to stay after seeing every available door.”

Her fingers close around mine, and the tension leaves her face.

“I want you beside me, Vera.” My thumb moves slowly across her palm. “I trusted you with my life before I could remember your name. Now I trust you with our son and the parts of me no one else sees.”

“I want a life with you, and I want you to choose it with every exit open.”

Vera leans closer until her parted lips are inches from mine. Her breasts press against my chest beneath the thin sheet, and my breath shortens.

“And marriage won’t change any of that,” I add.

Her eyes narrow. “Marriage?”

I should have reached that word with more care.

She releases my hand and steps back, her expression turning dangerously pleased. “Do you have a ring?”

I asked Leonid to keep the small ring box inside the folder’s inner pocket. I take it out now and open it between us. A low-set emerald rests on a plain platinum band. No crest marks the metal.

Vera looks from the ring to me. “Was that part of Leonid’s paperwork?”

“He carried it. I chose it.”

She laughs under her breath.

I draw a breath. “Marry me, Vera. We can establish a permanent shared household, formalize our parenting arrangements, and continue our intimate relationship under mutually acceptable conditions.”

She stares at me.

“God, Alexei.” Her lips part. “Was that supposed to be a proposal?”

One hand moves to the knot over her sternum. She pulls it loose, and the peach-colored sheet slides down her body before gathering around her ankles. She steps out of it.

“Did you just propose a legal merger with kissing privileges?” she asks, her eyes bright with amusement.

“The intimate relationship was the strongest part of the proposal,” I say.

Vera closes the ring box with one finger. “Try again.”

She folds my fingers around it, presses her other palm to my chest, and guides me toward the bed. I sit on the edge and begin lowering myself to the floor, but she catches my shoulder and pushes me gently against the pillows.

“I should kneel.”

“You were shot several times, had your chest and abdomen opened, and died for eighty-six seconds. You can propose lying down.”

“Briefly dead.”