Crown of the Empire

Chapter 27

Chapter 27

By the time the second month of being Mrs. Takedo rolled in, I'd mastered the art of juggling two empires. ME Bank was a monster now, chewing through the Asian banking sector like a very expensive, very aggressive Pac-Man. Nikolai's Takedo Pharma was untouchable, signing deals in Geneva, Singapore, and Seoul like he collected contracts the way I collected Louboutins.

And somehow, in the middle of all of it, we still managed to share dinners, late-night balcony drinks, and occasional kisses stolen between video calls with people who wore suits even to sleep.

It was chaos. Beautiful, exhilarating chaos.

So imagine my surprise when one Thursday evening, Nikolai looked up from his laptop during dinner and casually dropped a grenade into my lap.

"Our honeymoon is long overdue."

I nearly spat out my risotto. "Excuse me?"

He took a slow sip of wine, completely unfazed, as though he hadn't just suggested something that would require me to actually stop working. "We should choose where to go."

I set my fork down, narrowing my eyes. "You say that like it's a weekend trip to Tagaytay. Newsflash, Nikolai: we've been married for a month. The honeymoon window closed three weeks ago."

His dark eyes flicked up to mine, calm as ever. "It's overdue. Not closed."

"Semantics."

"Reality," he corrected, tone maddeningly steady.

I leaned back in my chair, arms crossed, giving him my best boardroom glare. "What exactly do you call Japan, then? We met your grandparents. We had dinners in a garden. We kissed under cherry blossoms. Sounds like a honeymoon to me."

"That was a teaser."

I choked on air. "A teaser?"

"Yes." He cut into his steak with surgical precision. "The honeymoon is different. The honeymoon is for us. No boardrooms. No investors. No family watching." His gaze lifted, steady, piercing. "Just us."

My brain stalled. My mouth, unfortunately, did not. "You mean to tell me Japan—where your grandmother asked me when I was giving her great-grandchildren and your grandfather tried to feed me mochi until I nearly burst—that was just the trailer? And now you want the feature film?"

His lips twitched. Barely. "Yes."

I groaned, slumping dramatically in my chair. "Unbelievable. I thought marrying you meant fewer surprises. Instead, it's plot twist after plot twist. What's next? You're secretly Batman?"

He didn't answer. Just took another slow sip of wine. Which, of course, made me suspicious.

I leaned forward, narrowing my eyes. "Wait. Are you Batman?"

"Mariya."

"Yes, Nikolai?"

"Eat your dinner."

I stabbed a piece of asparagus like it had personally offended me. "You're not denying it."

The corner of his mouth curved—that rare, infuriating almost-smile.

Later that night, I lay sprawled across our ridiculous continent-sized bed, scrolling through my phone while Nikolai reviewed contracts beside me.

"So where do you plan to whisk me away to, oh Mysterious One?" I asked without looking up. "Bali? Paris? A secret Russian dacha where we churn butter and milk cows for fun?"

"Moscow, Paris, Maldives," he replied evenly. "Anywhere. You choose."

I lowered my phone, staring at him. "You're actually serious."