Page 31 of Blood Oath Christmas
“Tread easy, man,” Konstantin says. He let the nickname go earlier but obviously isn’t going to let it continue.
“Why did you have to pretend to be in trouble?” Frank continues, ignoring Konstantin. “Did you have to call me and be so secretive, act like I was never going to see you again?”
He must not have seen the news, I realize with a heavy heart. Frank doesn’t own a TV. He thinks they destroy minds. But I’m surprised he hasn’t at least read about my court appearance.
“Watch the news, Frank!” Irritation flows from my voice. “I witnessed a murder and have to testify. When I called you, I was going into the Witness Protection program and thought I’d never see you, or anyone else, again!”
Frank’s eyes flare wide and the color drains out of his face again. “Oh, my God, Ivy. I had no idea?—”
“Enough,” Konstantin interrupts. “Let’s go, Ivy.”
He doesn’t give me a chance to argue. His hands dig into my side, not enough to hurt, but with enough pressure to turn me around and lead me across the street to where his car is waiting. I shoot an apologetic glance over my shoulder, then practically run to catch up to my… fiancé.
God, even with everything that’s happened to me over the last few days, calling Konstantin Mikhailov myfiancéis probably the most shocking.
Once we’re inside the car, with my heart threatening to beat out of my chest, I turn to Konstantin.
“That was rude. You didn’t have to talk to him like that.”
“He needed a clean cut,” Konstantin says without remorse. “It’s kinder than letting him bleed out.”
“He’s a good person and doesn’t deserve this.”
Konstantin turns to look at me, his green eyes boring into me. He lifts a tattooed hand and gently brushes a strand of hair away from my forehead. “So are you, but that doesn’t stop bad things from happening to good people.”
“That’s a weird way of looking at things from someone who… well, from someone in your line of work.”
The heat in his eyes shifts, softens, becomes something that lands alarmingly low in my body. “I’m not all bad, Ivy,” he says softly, then turns and looks out the opposite window.
Why the hell do I feel guilty now? Did I hurt his feelings?Canhis feelings be hurt? Oh, no, I can’t think like that. I’m the one who’s wronged here. I’m the one caught up in this impossible situation, forced to marry a man twice my age and whom I barely know. I’m the one who just had to hurt a man I care deeply for.
We ride the rest of the way in silence, my wedding gown encased in its protective bag hanging from a hook inside the car a vivid reminder of just how drastically my life is going to change. Every time I look at the window, I catch Konstantin’s reflection in it. His profile seems carved in iron and discipline, the tiny muscle in his jaw moving when he thinks about shooting someone to make a problem simpler. That should scare me more than it does.
By the time we reach the estate, the gray sky has slid toward slate. The gates open and we roll past the Mary statue with her chipped nose and the dusting of clean snow spread out on her shoulders like a shawl. The house meets us with warm light and beeswax in the hall. A guard I don’t know stands outside my door like a piece of furniture someone forgot to move. He’s broad and young, with a nose that’s been broken at least once.
“I’m tired,” I announce to Konstantin and then go into my room and close the door before he can answer. Leaning my back against the door, I stand there for a moment to try and let my heart calm down.
The room smells like lavender and fire. Anya must have tended to the fireplace while we were gone.
I face the room and feel the weight of the last week all at once. I don’t want to marry the head of a Mafia family. I don’t want to wake up next to a man who gives orders to men with guns. I don’t want to live in a house where icons bless the doorways and pistols live in drawers with the cutlery.
I also don’t want to be dead. The simple math of that carries more weight than all the other variables.
My eyes catch my reflection in the mirror above the desk. The woman looking back is a stranger wearing my bones and my mother’s mouth. I remember one afternoon when I was eight, my father lifting me onto his shoulders to hang a paper star near the window for Christmas. I remember how safe I felt up there, the house below me a world that couldn’t be invaded.
When Konstantin stands in a room, my body recognizes that same feeling. I hate that. I don’t know what to do with it. I don’t understand these conflicting feelings swarming through me. I want to stay here where I’m the safest. I want to run far enough away so that no one can find me. I want to feel Konstantin’s strong arm around me again. I want to kiss him, find out if he tastes as good as he looks. But then, I want to stay as far away from him and the danger he brings as possible.
I always thought I’d marry for love, if I ever got married in the first place. I’ve never been like a lot of my friends growing up, eager to find a husband and have a family. Marriage, to me, is a sacred thing, and if I ever chose to walk down the aisle, it would be the first and last time.
And now look at me! Ready to marry a man, a dangerous Mafia boss, whom I don’t love and hardly even know.
Shaking my head, I plop down on my bed, ignoring how the mattress reforms to mold to me so perfectly it’s like lying on a designer cloud.
I can’t do this. I’ve already put so many lives in danger and the longer I stay here, the more I’ll cause problems for Konstantin and his family. The FBI can’t protect me, but then Vadim will be looking for me to be with either Konstantin or law enforcement. If I’m on my own, maybe I have a better chance of hiding because it won’t be something Vadim would expect.
I nod, my mind made up. Tonight, after everyone is asleep, I’ll find a way out of here.
16
