Chapter 21 Ivy
IVY
The tray from last night still sits untouched on the small table by the window.
A congealed slice of roast, cold bread, and a half-empty glass of water.
Anya had brought me dinner in my room last night.
She gave me a sympathetic half smile before placing it on the table and leaving me to my thoughts.
Hiding in this room seemed like my only choice.
Safer than seeing Konstantin’s green eyes practically devouring me where I stood.
Safer than being near enough to remember how close he came to kissing me—again.
Because if I’d let him, I know exactly what would have happened.
He said as much, and I know I wouldn’t have stopped him.
I would have been in his bed—or on the desk in his office—faster than I could blink.
The admission lingers like a bruise under the skin.
That knowledge kept me awake long into the night.
This morning, though, hiding feels weak.
Childish, even. Staying locked up while decisions are made without me will only make things worse.
My life has been dragged into his world, and pretending I can avoid it is foolish.
If I’m really marrying Konstantin, then I need some kind of control.
Two days. Two days until Christmas. Two days until the wedding.
And I’ve done nothing to prepare.
It’s absurd to care about the ceremony, a wedding I don’t even want.
The marriage isn’t for love. It’s for survival.
Yet, something in me recoils at the thought of standing before him and treating it like a business deal.
If I’m to do this, if I’m to give up the life I knew, then I want it to mean something.
If marriage to Konstantin is the safest option—and it is—then I need to pull up my little girl panties and get to work.
I head for the elegant bathroom and stand there for a minute, letting the tiled floor warm my bare feet.
In the shower, hot water pounds my neck and shocks my thoughts into order.
After toweling off, I pull on a sweater dress with thick tights and boots.
I blow dry my shoulder-length hair to give it some body, add a little lip gloss and mascara, then leave my room.
The hallway is quiet, except for the guard Konstantin has watching over my room.
I give the man a nod, a new guard I haven’t seen yet, and go in search of my soon-to-be husband.
His study is empty. The library smells like old paper and woodsmoke, but no one sits in the wingback chairs.
The small chapel near the back hall is lit by a single candle, but other than a woman, part of the staff, I think, it’s empty, too.
A flash of motion through tall glass draws me toward the garden doors.
Frost glitters on boxwood and rose canes.
The beds hold winter-hardy color that someone planned with care.
I recognize holly with red berries, hellebores with pale blooms that look like porcelain, and sprays of dusty blue juniper.
And there he is. Konstantin sits in the middle of it on a black iron bench like a man dropped into a painting. He sits with his head tilted back and eyes closed, as if he’s trying to absorb the weak winter sun.
Something shifts inside me seeing him there. Out of his suit and away from the weight of walls, he looks relaxed… peaceful, even. Not two adjectives I would have ever used to describe Konstantin Mikhailov.
As if he senses me watching him from behind the glass, he lowers his head and looks right at me. Those green eyes seem to bore right through me, burning through my veins, zipping along my nerves.
I break the look first and go outside, my boots crunching over frost. The air is chilly and bites into my skin, my cheeks and nose instantly turning cold.
“You’re up early,” he says when I reach him.
I don’t sit on the bench. God, that iron has to be cold! Instead, I stand off to the side so that Konstantin turns his head to look at me. After a second, he stands as well, probably figuring I’m not going to sit down.
“Couldn’t sleep last night,” I say. “There’s just so much to do before the wedding.”
He raises a surprised eyebrow. “We’ve got your wedding dress. What else is bothering you?”
“Where are we getting married?” No point easing toward it.
His brow lifts a fraction. “Here. At the estate.”
I’m not surprised by the answer. There isn’t time to rent a nice church or hall. Well, maybe with Konstantin’s power and influence, he could. But there’s a small chapel here that’s nice.
“A priest I trust will perform the ceremony,” Konstantin says. His voice is steady, measured, not dismissive but final. “Some of my family will stand as witnesses as we exchange vows.”
The bluntness makes my stomach twist. “That’s it? That’s your idea of a wedding?”
He doesn’t flinch. “It’s my idea for this wedding.”
“You make it sound like a transaction. Like you’re signing a contract with a business partner.”
His eyes narrow, though his tone remains calm. “You have been complaining about having to get married all this time, and now you’re upset that it’s going to be simple and not extravagant?”
“I didn’t say I wanted something extravagant,” I argue. “Just… not so cold.”
He studies me in silence, the frost-crusted hedges framing him like stone walls. His posture doesn’t shift, but I can feel his attention sharpen. “Cold is safe. The fewer people involved, the fewer risks you face.”
Safe. Always safe. The word tastes bitter on my tongue, even though I know he’s just trying to protect me.
When I don’t say anything for a while, he speaks again. “What do you expect, Ivy?”
I press my arms tight around myself against the winter air, though it’s not the cold that makes me shiver. “Since I don’t know if I’ll ever get married again, I want a wedding that looks like one. Flowers. Music. Something that doesn’t scream business deal.”
He frowns for a second, then nods. “That makes sense. It also helps to sell our marriage to everyone else.”
“That’s kind of cold, isn’t it?” I ask, mirroring his frown.
“You want romance?” His tone dips low, unreadable.
The question stings because I know that’s not in my cards. “No, I just want a wedding that shows respect.”
For the first time, Konstantin breaks eye contact, his gaze roaming over the frosted paths. “I can allow flowers,” he says finally. “Something tasteful, nothing that draws attention outside these walls.”
The knot in my stomach loosens slightly. “And music. Even just one violinist.”
He exhales, fog clouding the air. “One,” he allows after a minute. “I’ll find someone discreet.”
The knot in my stomach loosens. “Thank you.
We fall quiet for a few minutes. His gaze lingers on me in a way that makes it hard to stand still. Finally, he shifts his weight, his boots crunching over frost.
“I understand this isn’t your dream.” His voice is gentler than I’ve ever heard.
He looks at me with an open expression, his eyes showing true regret.
“None of this is. You didn’t choose me, or this house, or the danger that put you here.
But I’ll do what I can to give you some measure of respect and happiness.
I won’t risk your life for the sake of appearances, but I won’t make it feel like a prison sentence either. ”
The words strike deep. I wrap my arms tighter around myself, not from the cold but from how much his words affect me. “That means more than you know.
A small silence follows. Then he asks, “What about your mother?” The question looks like it was dragged from him. “If you want, I can see what I can do so that she can attend.”
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 do things 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!”