Chapter 14 Konstantin
KONSTANTIN
Istudy Ivy across the breakfast table, still a little surprised she agreed to marry me. I expected her to continue arguing, but I saw the instant she became resolved and said yes and I’d relaxed… just a little.
Her teacup trembles once when she lifts it, but she hides the tremor with a sip and a leveled gaze. The dark circles under her eyes tell me more than her mouth does. She’s exhausted and frightened.
I push back my chair. The scrape against the tile is sharper than I intend, and her eyes shoot up in alarm.
“We’re leaving,” I say.
Her chin tips, wary. “Where?”
“Shopping.” I let the word sit, then add, “For a wedding dress.”
Her mouth parts. Surprise and wariness flicker behind her eyes. “That’s not necessary—”
I cut her off. “Of course it is. You’re marrying the head of the Mikhailov family. There’s an image to uphold and I won’t have you wed in rags.”
She looks down at her outfit, a pair of beige slacks and a black wool sweater, then tilts a wry smile at me. “I wouldn’t exactly call these rags.”
“It’s not a wedding dress, either,” I counter.
She drinks the last sip of her tea, nods, then gets to her feet. If I would have been thinking straight, instead of watching the way her blonde hair has the slightest upward curl when it reaches her slender shoulders, I would have done the polite thing and pulled her chair out for her.
But when it comes to Ivy Andreev, I rarely think straight.
I do remember to grab her coat off the rack by the door and hold it out for her.
She looks at me curiously, as if trying to decide whether to accept my assistance, then shrugs her arms into the thick winter jacket.
My fingers find her shoulders and pull the wool into place.
I take an extra beat to settle the collar because it allows me to touch her without being inappropriate.
She goes still, then breathes. Warmth radiates from her body, a sign that she is alive and well.
If she had stayed with the FBI fuckups, she’d be dead by now.
In the hall, garlands and ikon lamps throw a warm light. The house smells of beeswax and pine and a faint ribbon of clove from the kitchen.
Outside, the cold is clean enough to bite.
The convoy waits—my black G-class in front, a second behind, and a third idling at the gate.
I don’t flaunt power because power that needs flaunting isn’t real, but I don’t hide it either.
People are less brave when they think twice, and three SUVs full of men who would rather shoot first, ask questions later, tends to make people think a bit harder before trying something stupid.
Viktor opens the back door. “Ptichka,” he says to Ivy, calling her a little bird. “You can ride behind me.”
Ivy gives him a small smile and climbs into the backseat behind the driver’s chair. I follow, and the interior fills with her unique scent, something a little spicy but tempered with lavender and maybe a hint of citrus.
The gates close behind us with their usual groan. Ivy watches the city slide past in winter colors, the shop windows glazed with frost. She sits stiff and uncomfortable, as if she expects to be ambushed at any second. No surprise there since that’s exactly what we did to her the other day.
“You’re safe,” I say, my voice low and full of command.
It doesn’t seem to reassure her. “That’s what the FBI told me, yet Vadim’s men found the safehouse and we barely got out with our lives. Then you…” Ivy pauses and stares at me. “You and your guys were able to take me away from them.”
“That should make you feel more confident instead of less. The fact that we kept Vadim’s men from getting to you at the safehouse—”
“That was you?” she interrupts, then shakes her head. “I can’t believe I didn’t put two and two together and realize that sooner. I mean, I knew there were others out there fighting Vadim’s guys, but I guess I never gave it any other thought with everything else going on.”
I nod. “Yeah, it was us. The bastard has a few less men to go after you now.” Ivy flinches, but I ignore it.
Whether she wants to or not, whether she’s ready or not, she will soon be part of the family and will have to get used to the way we do business.
“And then we were able to take you from the FBI without a single punch or bullet spent. So, yes, you should feel a lot safer with me.”
The way her mouth screws up as she ponders my words shouldn’t turn me on, but it does.
“Why are you doing this?” she asks, drawing my attention from her mouth. “You’ve never told me.”
“That’s a story for another time,” I say with a frown. One of these days, soon, I have to tell her about the blood oath. But I’m not ready.
She doesn’t look too pleased with my answer and changes the subject. “Where exactly are we going?”
“To a bridal shop owned by a cousin by marriage,” I say. “Her name is Taisia and she’s closed the shop just for us.”
“Do I get a say in the dress?”
I raise an eyebrow. “Of course. It’s your day.” Then, just in case she is thinking about tapping into that rebellious streak of hers, I add, “Within reason, of course.”
Viktor’s eyes catch mine in the mirror. He tips his chin to indicate the streets are clear. No sign of Vadim’s men or the FBI. The boutique sits on a quiet block off the main street, an old building with tall windows and carved stone lintels. The sign reads Taisia Bridal in gold script.
Viktor steps out first. He signals the two posted men already on the corner, then puts one at the shop door and one by the alley. Maksim stays with the cars. I take Ivy’s hand to help her from the SUV. Her fingers are cool, steady.
A brass bell announces our arrival as I push the door open.
The place smells of steam and starch and perfume.
Bolts of silk are stacked along the back wall for those who need adjustments to their dresses or for those who want an original creation.
Racks of white and off-white dresses wrapped in muslin the color of cream line the other walls.
A long mirror throws back light in a soft wash.
Taisia is already at the counter. She wipes her palms on a dark apron and comes to greet us with the kind of embrace you reserve for family you respect. She kisses the air beside my cheek.
“Good morning, Taisia,” I greet with a genuine smile. “As promised, I’ve brought you my bride. Ivy Andreev, meet my cousin and the best seamstress in the city—and beyond. Taisia, my fiancée.”
“Andreev?” Taisia says with a puckered brow. “Are you Andrei Andreev’s little girl all grown up now?”
Ice slides a clean line down my spine. Ivy goes still beside me.
“You knew my father?” she asks incredulously.
Taisia blinks once, reads my face in a heartbeat, and corrects herself. “Knew of him,” she says smoothly. “Everyone did, in our circle.” She gestures to the room, moving us forward. “Come, let us see what will make the priests smile and the groom forget what world he lives in.”
I breathe again even as Ivy opens her mouth to ask more questions but closes it as Taisia starts up a series of questions about what she’s looking for and complimenting Ivy’s skin color and figure.
In the back, there’s a small, private salon with a long mirror.
A tray with tea and lemon sits on a stand between two overstuffed chairs.
I take a seat in one and pour myself a cup of tea.
Viktor plants himself at the hallway door.
He’s already locked the front door and turned the sign so that it reads “closed” should anyone try to come in.
“I don’t know what I’m… supposed to pick,” Ivy says under her breath. She looks at the long row of gowns as if they’re a bunch of snakes ready to bite her.
“When you were a girl, didn’t you dream of what you’d wear to your wedding?” Taisia asks with a gentle smile.
Ivy frowns in thought. “Not that I remember.”
“Well, let’s start with what you like. Do you want a nice form-fitting dress or a more elaborate gown?”
As the women discuss wedding dress nuances, I flip through the magazines laid out neatly on the table next to the tea. Most of them are for brides, but there are a couple of hunting and nature editions for the few men who come in while their fiancées are fitted for the perfect dress.
I’m engrossed in an article about a bear that was tracked from when it was a cub until it became a mother when Taisia interrupts.
“She is ready, Konstantin.” A huge grin spreads across her face and she waggles her eyebrows. “Are you sure you are?”
I nod, setting the magazine aside.
Ivy peaks her head out from the dressing room door. “Isn’t it bad luck to see the bride in her wedding dress before the actual wedding?”
“I make my own luck.”
She frowns, then shakes her head and disappears behind the door.
A minute later, she steps out, a bit shyly, and my mouth goes dry.
The white gown is perfect for her. It fits her like it was made for her.
The bodice is modest but is cut low enough to show a hint of enticing cleavage.
The skirt is straight, an inventive design of lace and winter-white satin.
There’s a thin belt at the waist with a small icon charm hanging lightly from the center.
Taisia’s laughter breaks me out of my haze. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you speechless before, Konstantin.”
My ears turn hot and I clear my throat. “Turn around,” I say, my voice gruffer than I expected, but damn, that dress… the way Ivy looks in that dress literally steals my voice and sends fire rushing through my veins.
Ivy raises an eyebrow but turns in a slow circle, giving me time to see the whole ensemble. The back of the dress dips low, exposing the smooth skin of her back and making my fingers itch to tear the thing off and throw her on my bed.
I’m standing in front of her by the time she makes a full circle. Damn, but I don’t even remember walking over here!
My knuckles graze her cheek. “You are breathtaking, Ivy,” I say in a low voice, my eyes devouring every inch of her.
Ivy blushes, her cheeks turning bright red, and she ducks her head shyly. But just for a second. Then she looks at me and smiles. “Thank you.”
“We’ll take it,” I tell Taisia.
She chuckles as Ivy disappears into the dressing room to change out of the dress. “Of course you will. Do you want to take it now or should I deliver it later?”
After seeing that dress on Ivy, the way it made her blue eyes sparkle, and how it fit her sexy little body so perfectly, I don’t want to let the thing out of my sight. I don’t want to take the chance that something will happen to it or it won’t arrive on time.
“We’ll take it with us.”
Taisia nods. When Ivy comes out of the dressing room, Taisia carefully takes the dress and puts it into a protective bag for us. After paying, I nod at Viktor and we leave the bridal shop.
When we step outside, the cold air causes Ivy to shiver. I put my palm at the small of her back. Did she just lean into me a little bit? Probably wishful thinking on my part, or she’s just cold and instinctively seeking warmth.
“Ivy!”
The male voice calling Ivy’s name sends me into instant protect mode. Pulling Ivy behind me, my other hand reaches at the line of my coat where my gun is waiting.