She frowns, then glances at me. "What's that for?"
"Anything you need."
"I have a credit card."
I shake my head. "You're my wife, which means I provide for you."
Mariya sets down her cutlery and takes a sip of her water before saying, "I'm not sure how I feel about that."
"It will reflect badly on me if I let your father continue to
provide for you," I explain calmly.
She worries her bottom lip between her teeth, then, to my surprise, she says, "I understand." She gives me a look of warning. "Only for six months. And brace yourself, I love shopping."
Chuckling, I murmur, "Noted." Picking up my cutlery, I
start to eat. When I'm almost done, I mention, "Whenever you
leave the apartment, you have to notify me."
"And we were doing so well," she huffs. "I have Ivan and
Lev." I shake my head. "I don't care. I want to know when and
where you're going."
Anger sparks in her eyes, but her tone is calm when she asks, "You don't think that's a little controlling?" "No." I capture her eyes. "I can't do my job while
worrying whether you're safe."
She seems to think about it, then agrees, "Okay, but then you have to keep me updated wherever you are at all times."