"Are you sure the papers are in order?" I asked, my heart hammering as the guard scrutinized our documentation.
The man's cold eyes flicked between the Russian passports and our faces, taking his sweet fucking time. Dominic—no, Alexei now—stood beside me, his posture relaxed but alert. I could feel the weight of the wedding band on my finger, a strange anchor in this sea of deception.
"Credentials check out." The guard nodded, handing back our documentation. "Petrov is expecting you. Follow the path to the main house."
Relief flooded through me, but I kept my face impassive. The first hurdle cleared. Only about a thousand more to go.
As we drove through the iron gates of Petrov's northern Michigan compound, I couldn't help but marvel at the isolation. Dense forest surrounded the sprawling property, with snow-capped mountains visible in the distance. The perfect place to conduct business away from prying eyes.
"Ready for this, Mrs. Volkov?" Dominic murmured in flawless Russian, his hand coming to rest possessively on my thigh.
"Always, husband," I replied in the same language, matching his accent. The word 'husband' felt strange on my tongue—intimate yet performative.
The compound was even more fortified than we'd anticipated. Guards patrolled with military precision, and I spotted security cameras nestled discreetly in the trees. The main house was a modernist monstrosity of steel and glass, jutting from the landscape like an invader.
"Remember," Dominic said quietly as we parked. "Tech specialists are often underestimated. Use that."
I nodded, slipping into character as we exited the vehicle. Two armed men approached immediately, and Dominic stepped forward with the confident swagger of a security professional.
"Alexei Volkov and my wife, Irina. We have the equipment Petrov requested from Moscow."
One guard spoke into his radio while the other kept his weapon trained on us. Standard procedure, but my pulse quickened nonetheless. After a brief confirmation, they escorted us toward the house.
"The boss wants to see you before you set up," the taller guard said. "Standard protocol for new operatives."
The interior of the house was a stark contrast to its brutal exterior—plush carpets, original artwork, and the unmistakable air of wealth accumulated through blood and suffering. We were led through a series of hallways, each turn taking us deeper into the devil's domain.
Viktor Petrov waited in what appeared to be a study, standing with his back to a wall of windows overlooking the property. He was slimmer than I remembered from the club, his salt-and-pepper hair precisely styled, dressed in an impeccable suit that probably cost more than most people made in a year.
"Ah, our Moscow specialists," he said, his English carrying the same accent we'd adopted. "Welcome to America."
"Thank you, sir," Dominic replied in Russian. "We're honored to be chosen for this assignment."
Petrov switched to Russian. "Your reputation precedes you, Volkov. They say you can secure any location, no matter how compromised."
"I've never failed an assignment," Dominic stated, the perfect balance of confidence without arrogance.
Petrov's eyes shifted to me, traveling slowly from my face down my body and back up again. It took everything in me not to reach for the knife strapped to my thigh.
"And you must be the technical prodigy I've heard about. Irina, yes?"
I gave a deferential nod. "Yes, sir. I specialize in communication encryption and surveillance integration."
"And you're comfortable with the requirements of this assignment? It's... sensitive in nature."
"I've handled classified operations for the Kremlin," I replied coolly. "Discretion is my specialty."
A small smile played at Petrov's lips. "Good. I have several systems that need your expertise." He turned back to Dominic. "Your wife's skills are impressive. Moscow speaks highly of her abilities."
"She's the best," Dominic said, a hint of genuine pride in his voice. "That's why I married her."
Petrov laughed, a sound devoid of warmth. "Ah, a man who appreciates competence as well as beauty. I approve." He moved to his desk and pressed a button. "Mikhail will show you to your quarters. Get settled, and we'll discuss the specifics of your assignment over dinner."
Another guard appeared promptly, ready to escort us.
"One more thing," Petrov added as we turned to leave. "I run a tight operation here. Everyone is vetted thoroughly." His eyes hardened. "Trust is earned, not given. Understood?"
"Perfectly," Dominic replied.
The threat was clear. We were being watched, and one false move would be our last.
Our assigned quarters were surprisingly luxurious—a spacious suite with a king-sized bed, sitting area, and private bathroom. As soon as the door closed behind us, Dominic began a silent sweep for surveillance devices.
I followed his lead, checking light fixtures, vents, and electrical outlets while maintaining casual conversation about the drive and our luggage. It was a dance we'd rehearsed, speaking about nothing while our hands communicated everything.
Dominic found the first bug behind a painting. He left it untouched, merely indicating its presence with a subtle gesture. I located another in the bathroom vent. By the time we finished our sweep, we'd identified four listening devices and two cameras—one in the main room and, predictably, one aimed at the bed.
"The view is beautiful," I said loudly for the benefit of any listeners, moving to stand by the window.
Dominic joined me, wrapping his arms around my waist from behind. His body pressed against mine as he whispered directly into my ear, his voice so low it was almost imperceptible.
"We're being tested. Dinner will be an interrogation."
I leaned back against him, tilting my head to respond just as quietly. "The equipment gives us cover to move around the compound."
"We'll need to sell this marriage tonight." His lips brushed my earlobe, sending an involuntary shiver down my spine.
For the cameras, I turned in his arms, looping my hands around his neck. "I'm going to shower before dinner, darling," I said at normal volume. "The drive was exhausting."
His eyes darkened with understanding. "Need help washing your back?"
I smiled, playing along. "Always."
In the bathroom, we turned on the shower to mask our conversation. Even with the bug in the vent, the noise would make it difficult to pick up whispered words.
"Petrov will want the equipment set up tomorrow," I said, keeping my voice barely audible. "That's our chance to locate his office and plant the transmitter."
Dominic nodded, his face inches from mine in the steamy bathroom. "I counted twelve guards on the perimeter, probably more inside. The security system is high-end—motion sensors, infrared cameras."
"Nothing I can't handle," I assured him.
His hand came up to cup my face, a tender gesture that surprised me. "Be careful, Valentina," he whispered. "These people won't hesitate to kill you if they suspect anything."
The genuine concern in his eyes made my chest tighten. "I know. You too."
For a moment, we stood there, the shower running behind us, steam curling around our bodies. Then, because we both knew we were still performing for hidden eyes, he leaned down and kissed me. It was slow and deliberate, his lips moving against mine with practiced familiarity. My body responded instantly, a flush of heat spreading through me despite the danger of our situation.
When we broke apart, his eyes held a question. I nodded slightly, and he reached behind me to turn off the shower.
"Fuck the shower," he said loudly enough for the microphones to pick up. "I need you now."
I played along, letting him back me against the counter, knowing that our performance needed to be convincing. "We have dinner soon," I protested half-heartedly.
"Let them wait," he growled, lifting me onto the counter.
What followed was a calculated show for our audience—clothes discarded with seeming urgency, passionate kisses, and the convincing sounds of a couple who couldn't keep their hands off each other. But beneath the performance was something real, something that made my heart race for reasons beyond our dangerous mission.
As his hands moved over my body with familiar expertise, I found myself forgetting about the cameras, about Petrov, about everything except the man before me. In this strange limbo between truth and deception, between Dominic and Alexei, between Valentina and Irina, we found a moment of genuine connection.
Afterward, as we dressed for dinner, Dominic's eyes met mine in the mirror. "Ready for the next act?"
I straightened his tie, playing the role of dutiful wife. "Born ready."
His smile held equal parts admiration and concern. "That's my girl."
And in that moment, despite the roles we were playing and the lies we were living, I realized it was true. I was his, and he was mine, and whatever waited for us in Petrov's dining room, we would face it together.
---
Dinner was served in a grand dining room with floor-to-ceiling windows showcasing the darkening forest outside. Petrov sat at the head of the table, with Dominic and me positioned on either side. Two other men joined us—Petrov's lieutenant, Anton, and his head of security, Sergei.
The food was exquisite—caviar, beef Stroganoff, and fine vodka—but I barely tasted it as the interrogation began.
"So, Alexei," Petrov said, refilling his glass, "tell me about your service record."
Dominic recited the carefully constructed background we'd memorized—Spetsnaz training, private security contracts in Chechnya, his recruitment by Russian intelligence. He spoke with the easy confidence of a man recounting his own past.
"And how did you two meet?" Anton asked, his eyes lingering on me a beat too long.
I smiled, playing the role of a woman reliving a pleasant memory. "He was assigned to protect a government facility where I was implementing new security protocols. At first, I thought he was an arrogant ass."
Dominic chuckled. "And I thought she was a stuck-up genius who needed to be taken down a peg."
"But?" Petrov prompted, seeming genuinely entertained.
"But," I continued, "there was a security breach. Someone tried to access the system through my terminal while I was getting coffee. Alexei caught them. Saved my career, possibly my life."
"I just did my job," Dominic said with practiced modesty. "But she insisted on thanking me with dinner."
"One dinner led to another," I added, "and here we are."
Petrov raised his glass. "To fortuitous security breaches."
We all drank, and I noticed Sergei watching me intently, his eyes narrowed in assessment.
"Irina," he said suddenly, "what encryption methods do you prefer for local network protection?"
A test. I answered without hesitation, diving into technical specifics that would convince anyone of my expertise. Sergei nodded, seemingly satisfied, and the conversation moved on.
For nearly three hours, they probed our backgrounds, our expertise, our relationship. Every question was a potential trap, every answer scrutinized for inconsistencies. By the time dessert was served, I was mentally exhausted but confident we'd passed the initial assessment.
"Tomorrow," Petrov said as we finished our coffee, "you'll begin installing the new security system. I have some... sensitive operations that require absolute privacy from prying ears."
"The equipment we brought is state-of-the-art," I assured him. "Once installed, not even the NSA could listen in."
"Excellent." Petrov stood, signaling the end of dinner. "Sergei will escort you to your quarters. Rest well. Tomorrow will be a busy day."
As we followed Sergei through the hallways, I noticed him studying Dominic's gait, his posture. Looking for inconsistencies, weaknesses. We'd have to be extra careful around him.
"Your wife is very talented," Sergei remarked to Dominic in Russian. "Moscow was right to recommend her."
"She's the best at what she does," Dominic replied smoothly. "In every way."
The suggestive undertone wasn't missed by Sergei, who smirked. "Lucky man."
When we reached our suite, Sergei paused. "One piece of advice," he said, his voice low. "The boss values loyalty above all else. Prove yours, and you'll be well rewarded. Fail him..." He left the threat unspoken.
"We understand," I said, meeting his gaze without flinching.
After he left, Dominic and I went through the motions of preparing for bed, aware of the eyes and ears monitoring our every move. We spoke casually about the dinner, the compound, the work ahead—nothing that would raise suspicions.
When we finally slid into bed, Dominic pulled me close, his body curving around mine protectively. His lips found my ear.
"They're still testing us," he breathed, barely audible. "Sergei doesn't trust us."
I nodded imperceptibly, turning to face him as if seeking a goodnight kiss. "Tomorrow I'll have access to their systems. I'll find the evidence."
His hand traced a path down my spine, ostensibly an intimate gesture while his fingers tapped a silent message against my skin. *Three days max.*
Three days to find the evidence linking Petrov to Russian intelligence. Three days to complete Alessandro's mission. Three days until our extraction window closed.
I kissed him deeply, partly for our audience and partly because I needed the connection, the reminder that I wasn't alone in this snake pit. When we broke apart, I saw the same mixture of determination and concern in his eyes that I felt in my heart.
"Sleep," he said aloud. "Tomorrow will be a long day."
As I lay in the dark, Dominic's breathing eventually evening out beside me, I stared at the ceiling and thought about the strange path that had led me here. Ten years of hating the man whose arms now held me. A decade of planning revenge against someone who had been protecting me all along.
And now we were here, deep in enemy territory, pretending to be people we weren't while discovering who we truly were.
I didn't know if we'd both make it out alive. I didn't know if we'd find the evidence we needed. But I knew one thing with absolute certainty—I would do whatever it took to finish my father's work and to protect the man sleeping beside me.
Even if it cost me everything.