Page 41 of Blood Oath Christmas
The question jolts me. I shake my head quickly. “No. She wouldn’t come.”
Konstantin studies me for a long moment, as if he’s not quite sure how to take my answer. I know he was offering to bring her to the wedding, despite his need to keep me safe and the logistics of getting her here, but he doesn’t know our relationship.
Or lack thereof. Mom and I have never been very close, and after Dad died, we grew even further apart. Sometimes, she’d just look at me with a mixture of sadness and disgust. Other times, she’d get upset and tell me I’m just like my dad, as if that’s a bad thing.
I don’t have bad memories of Dad. He was gone a lot, but when he was home, it was perfect. We spent a lot of time together during those times, but Mom usually wouldn’t join us. But that had been her choice. I remember Dad asking her to dothings with us all the time, whether it was a picnic at a park or going for a drive. She almost always said no.
His gaze lingers on me, softer now. “Ivy… you’ll have what’s possible. Not everything, but as much as I can give you. This I promise.”
The sound of footsteps intrudes, light and deliberate across the frosted over stone path. A tall woman rounds the corner of the hedges. Her hair is a brilliant red that glows in the thin winter sunlight. A fitted cream coat hugs her body, while soft leather gloves keep her hands warm. She carries herself like she owns every space she steps into. Her smile lands on me, sweet but cool. Then her eyes slide to Konstantin, locking there like a magnet.
“Oh, I do love weddings,” she coos, and something about the way she’s looking at Konstantin sends my Spidey alerts racing through my body.
Then she turns a sickening sweet smile on me. “Konstantin and I will have a huge wedding. All the media will be here. It will be a day to celebrate. You must come!”
22
KONSTANTIN
Irritation spikes through my blood. Mila’s voice floats through the winter air as if she owns the sky above us. The smile she aims at Ivy is sweet and poisonous. The smile she sends me is calculated.
“Enough,” I say, quiet and flat.
Mila’s chin tips. “Enough what?”
“Don’t pretend you don’t know we were talking aboutourmarriage.” The cold bites my cheeks and I swing my finger between me and Ivy. The hedges around the garden bend under a skin of frost as I glare at her. “Mine andIvy’s. As I’ve already told you.”
When she showed up yesterday, unannounced as usual, I told her I was engaged to be married in two days. She didn’t take it well and had left, anger riding high on her cheeks. I hadn’t expected her to return, yet here she is, trying to cause trouble.
Ivy shifts at my side. The warmth of her shoulder passes through the wool of my coat, and the small move sends a zing of awareness. She doesn’t speak. She waits to see where this is going. The way her blue eyes darken and her brows lower whenshe looks at me is like she’s thinking I’m a spider in the grass she needs to step on.
Just fucking fantastic.
Mila lets out a soft laugh that sounds a bit choked. “You’ve grown dramatic,” she says. “Fine. Then clear the air. Are you marrying me or not?”
Ivy inhales sharply. Shock widens her eyes. Anger follows fast, hot enough that she takes a single half step away from me. The movement hits like a punch to my gut.
I keep my gaze on Mila. “We were never engaged,” I say. “Not once. Not in private. Not in public. Not in writing. Not at all.”
Her lips part. Color rushes into her cheeks. “My father?—”
“Spoke for himself,” I finish. “Not for me.”
“You led me to believe?—”
“No.” I interrupt before she can continue down that path. “I did not.”
Mila’s confusion hardens. “Then say it clearly.”
“In two days, on Christmas Day, I’ll marry Ivy.” I do not look away from her when I say it. “That’s final.”
Silence presses down on the three of us. The fountain behind the hedge makes a slow winter drip, the only sound for the moment.
Mila laughs, one sharp burst that startles a sparrow from the hedge. She swings her gaze to Ivy, her eyes glittering. “You will regret saying yes to this man. He treats his promises like ornaments. Pretty in the light, fragile and breakable in his hands.”
Ivy’s lips thin, but she says nothing. She doesn’t look at me either.
Mila steps closer to me. “My father won’t accept this,” she says. “He has plans. He will not be… embarrassed.” She spits out the last word as if it tastes like dog shit. “He will have somethingto say about your choice, Konstantin. And you’ll be sorry if you go through with this.”
