Page 68 of Blood Oath Christmas
As soon as they're gone, I turn around and see Ivy has followed us and stands a few feet away, her arms wrapped around herself in a gesture that's both protective and vulnerable. The sight of her like that, small and uncertain because of Mila's cruelty, ignites something violent in my chest.
"Ivy." I step closer, but she doesn't look up immediately.
"Look at me," I say, reaching out to cup her chin, tilting her face up until those blue eyes meet mine. "What we have now, what's between us—that's what’s important."
She searches my face, looking for truth, for certainty. I can see the war playing out in her expression—the desire to believe me fighting against the seeds of doubt Mila planted.
Before she can respond, before I can find the words to explain what she's become to me, Viktor appears at the end of the hallway.
"Boss," he says, his expression grim. "We need to talk. Now."
The urgency in his voice cuts through everything else. Whatever this is about, it's serious enough to interrupt, which means it's serious enough to be dangerous.
I look back at Ivy, hating that this conversation is being cut short, that Mila's poison is being left to fester. "We'll finish this later," I promise her.
She nods, but I can see the walls going back up, the careful distance she's putting between us. Mila's damage is already done.
As I follow Viktor toward my office, my mind is racing. Three men at the gate that weren't there when Maksim checked. Mila's convenient distraction of Ivy. The timing of it all.
Was there really someone at the gate, or was it a ploy? A way to get Maksim away from watching Mila so she could corner Ivy alone? And if it was a ploy, who else is involved?
The questions multiply as we walk, each one more troubling than the last. Each one another possible threat to my wife.
35
IVY
Idrag myself up the stairs, each step feeling like I'm carrying lead weights on my ankles. The events of tonight replay in my mind like a broken record—Mila's venomous words, the tension in Konstantin's jaw, the way everyone seemed to be watching me. My hand grips the banister tighter than necessary as I reach the top landing.
All I want is to crawl into bed and forget this entire evening happened. The silk dress that felt so elegant hours ago now clings uncomfortably to my skin, and my feet ache from the heels I'm not used to wearing for extended periods. But it's not the physical exhaustion that's weighing me down. It's something deeper, something that's been gnawing at me since Mila opened her perfectly painted mouth.
I push open the bedroom door and immediately kick off my heels, not caring where they land. The relief is instant, but it does nothing for the turmoil churning in my chest. I move to the vanity and begin removing my jewelry with mechanical precision, watching my reflection in the mirror. My face looks pale, drawn, and there's something in my eyes I don't recognize—a vulnerability that makes me uncomfortable.
Why did her words hurt so much?
The question has been haunting me since we left the hallway. Mila had said what I already knew to be true, that Konstantin married me out of obligation, not love. It was a way to fulfill the blood oath he'd made to my father. I've known this from the beginning. I accepted it. So why does hearing it spoken aloud feel like a knife twisting in my chest?
I unzip the dress and let it pool at my feet, then reach for my silk nightgown hanging on the back of the bathroom door. The cool fabric slides over my skin like water, and I catch another glimpse of myself in the mirror. Something's different about my body lately—subtle changes that I've been trying to ignore. My breasts feel fuller, more sensitive. My waist seems slightly thicker, though it could just be all the rich food I've been eating since coming here.
The thought that's been lurking in the back of my mind for the past week surfaces again, and I push it away just as quickly. It's too soon to even consider that possibility. Too complicated.
I settle onto the edge of the bed and begin brushing my hair with long, methodical strokes. The repetitive motion usually calms me, but tonight it only gives my mind more space to wander. When Mila looked at me with such disdain and said I was nothing more than a charity case, something fierce and protective had risen in my chest. Not just for myself, but for Konstantin. For this family that's slowly becoming mine.
That realization stops me mid-brush.
When did I start thinking of the Mikhailov family as mine? When did their honor become something I felt compelled to defend? I think about Viktor's dry humor and the way he's been watching over me with an almost paternal protectiveness. About Denis and his gentle manner when he explains the restaurant's operations to me. About Maksim and how he nods respectfully when I pass him in the hallway.
These men who were strangers not long ago now feel like… family. The word sits strangely in my mind, but I can't deny its truth. They've accepted me in a way I never expected, and somewhere along the line, I've accepted them too.
But it's more than that. It's the way my heart races when Konstantin walks into a room. The way his rare smiles make my stomach flutter. The way I find myself watching him when he's conducting business, admiring the quiet authority he commands without even trying. The way his touch sets my skin on fire and makes me forget everything else exists.
I set the brush down with trembling fingers.
This isn't just about the blood oath anymore. This isn't just about protection or convenience or fulfilling some ancient promise. What I feel for Konstantin has grown into something deeper, something that terrifies me with its intensity. When Mila suggested he might set me aside once the danger passes, the thought of losing him felt like losing a piece of myself.
I'm falling in love with my husband.
The admission hits me like a physical blow, and I have to grip the edge of the mattress to steady myself. How did this happen? When did the man who kidnapped me from FBI protection become the center of my world? When did his happiness become more important than my own safety?
