James
I say nothing.
Alya's jaw works. "You're not joking."
"Why would I joke about that?"
"Because you're you."
"Touché."
A pause. Her eyes narrow. "We're not getting married. Not now."
"Could've fooled me. The paperwork's filed. Full immunity for both parties, joint jurisdiction over the holdings, even a nice little clause about not assassinating each other for at least twelve months."
"I never signed—"
"You did. Right after you fainted on that alleyway and before we went to Urals."
She gapes.
"And I may or may not have… submitted the official version on your behalf."
"You forged my signature?"
"I enhanced the inevitability."
She leans forward now, hands flat on the table. "Why?"
I pretend to consider. "Well, one—Fleory said if I keep pining like a Victorian widow she'll start mailing me lace. Two—you need legal cover for some of the asset transfers coming out of your father's old holdings and my connections. And three—"
"Three?" she asks, eyes narrowing.
