Chapter 26 Konstantin
KONSTANTIN
The disbelief in Ivy's eyes cuts through me like a blade. She stares at me as if I've just told her the sky is green, her lips parted in shock. The soft glow of the bedside lamp catches the gold flecks in her brown eyes, making them shimmer with something that looks dangerously close to panic.
"What do you mean, the Mikhailovs don’t divorce?" Her voice is barely above a whisper, but I hear the tremor in it.
I sit up against the headboard, pulling the sheet across my lap. The scent of our lovemaking still lingers in the air between us, a reminder of what we've just shared. What we've just sealed.
"Exactly what I said, moya zhena." The Russian endearment rolls off my tongue naturally. My wife. "Marriage in the Mikhailov family is sacred. It's a bond that cannot be broken."
She scrambles to sit up, clutching the sheet to her chest. "But this was supposed to be temporary. You said—"
"I said I would protect you. And I will. For the rest of my life." I reach out to touch her face, but she flinches away. The rejection stings more than I expected it to.
"Konstantin, you can't be serious. Once Vadim is caught, once this is all over—"
"It will never be over." The words come out harsher than I intend, but they're the truth. "You're a Mafia wife now, Ivy. There's no turning back from that. No annulment, no divorce, no walking away. You belong to me now, and I belong to you."
The color drains from her face. "Belong to you? Like property?"
"Like family." I lean forward, needing her to understand. "In my world, family is everything. It's the only thing that matters. And you're my family now."
She shakes her head, dark hair spilling over her shoulders. "This isn't what I agreed to."
"You agreed to marry me. Everything else comes with the territory."
Before she can respond, my phone buzzes on the nightstand. I glance at the screen and see Maksim's name. I consider ignoring it, but calls this late usually mean trouble.
"I have to take this," I tell her, swiping to answer. "What is it?"
"Boss, we have a problem." Maksim's voice is tight with controlled anger. "Someone intercepted the shipment from the docks. Took the whole truck."
My blood turns to ice. "Who?"
"Dmitri Kozlov."
The Kozlov family. They've been testing our boundaries for months, seeing how far they can push before we push back. Apparently, they've decided to find out.
"Where is he now?"
"We have him. Viktor's holding him at the warehouse."
I close my eyes, feeling the familiar weight of leadership settle on my shoulders. This is what it means to be the head of a family. Every challenge must be met with swift, decisive action. Every slight must be answered.
"Don't kill him," I say, my voice deadly calm. "Cut off his hand. Let that be a message to anyone else thinking about taking what belongs to me."
"Understood."
I end the call and find Ivy staring at me with wide, horrified eyes. She heard every word.
"You just ordered someone to be mutilated," she whispers.
"I ordered a message to be sent." I set the phone aside and turn to face her fully. "This is my world, Ivy. This is what it means to be married to me. There will always be enemies, always be threats. And I will always do whatever it takes to protect what's mine."
"Including me?"
"Especially you."
She's quiet for a long moment, processing. I can see the wheels turning in her mind, the reality of her situation finally sinking in. When she speaks again, her voice is small.
"What have I done?"
The pain in her voice cuts deep, but I push it aside. She'll understand eventually. She'll see that this life, this protection, is better than anything she could have had before.
"You survived," I tell her. "That's what you've done."
I slip out of bed and pull on my clothes. There's work to be done, and the night is far from over.
"Where are you going?" she asks.
"To handle business. Get some sleep. We'll talk more in the morning."
But I know she won't sleep. I can feel her eyes on me as I leave the room, can sense the turmoil radiating from her.
Part of me wants to go back, to hold her until the fear leaves her eyes.
But that's not who I am. I'm the head of the Mikhailov family, and I have responsibilities that go beyond one woman's comfort.
Even if that woman is my wife.
The next morning, I'm in my office reviewing security reports when Viktor knocks on the door. He enters without waiting for permission, a habit that would get anyone else killed but one I tolerate from him.
"It's done," he says simply.
"Good. Make sure word gets back to Kozlov. I want him to know exactly what happens to people who steal from me."
Viktor nods, then hesitates. "There's something else, Boss. About your wife."
I look up from the papers. "What about her?"
"She's going to need protection. Real protection. Word is already spreading that you've married an outsider. There will be those who see her as a weakness to exploit."
The thought of anyone using Ivy to get to me makes my blood boil. But Viktor is right. In marrying her, I've painted a target on her back. Every enemy I have will now see her as a potential weapon against me.
"Put together a team," I tell him. "Your most trusted men. They go where she goes. If anything happens to her, it will be their heads."
"How many?"
"As many as it takes." I lean back in my chair, thinking. "And Viktor? Make sure they understand that she's not just some woman I'm protecting. She's family now. They will show her the same respect they would show me."
Viktor's expression shifts slightly. In all the years he's worked for me, he's never seen me care about anyone the way I care about Ivy. The realization seems to surprise him.
"Of course, Boss. I'll handle it personally."
I nod, understanding. Loyalty in our world isn't given lightly, and once given, it's absolute. It's something Ivy will need to learn if she's going to survive in this life.
After Viktor leaves, I try to focus on work, but my mind keeps drifting to Ivy. To the look in her eyes when she realized what she'd gotten herself into. To the way she felt in my arms, soft and warm and perfect.
I've protected many people over the years. It's part of what I do, part of who I am. But this is different. This isn't just duty anymore. It's personal. It's love, though I'm not sure I'm ready to admit that, even to myself.
The sound of footsteps in the hallway pulls me from my thoughts. I look up to see Ivy standing in the doorway, her hands planted firmly on her hips. She's dressed in jeans and a sweater, her hair pulled back in a short ponytail. She looks young and defiant, and absolutely furious.
"Am I to be a prisoner even now, as your wife?" she demands, her voice echoing off the walls of my office. "Will it be like this the rest of my life?"
I set down my pen and study her face. The fear from last night has been replaced by anger, which is somehow both better and worse. Fear I can work with. Anger is more complicated.
"What are you talking about?"
"The men outside my door. The ones following me around the house. Viktor told me they're my new shadows." She steps into the room, her eyes blazing. "I can't even go to the bathroom without an escort."
"They're for your protection."
"They're for your peace of mind." She moves closer to my desk, and I can see the pulse beating rapidly at her throat. "I'm not some fragile flower that needs to be locked away in a tower, Konstantin."
"No," I agree, standing slowly. "You're my wife. Which makes you a target for every enemy I have. Those men aren't there to imprison you—they're there to keep you alive."
"And how long will this last? How long will I need bodyguards to go grocery shopping or visit a friend?"
The question hangs in the air between us, heavy with implication. She wants an end date, a timeline for when her life will go back to normal. But there is no normal for her anymore. There's only this life, this world, this reality.
"As long as I see fit," I tell her, my voice steady. "Since you're my wife, that will likely be the rest of your life."
The words hit her like a physical blow. She takes a step back, her face going pale.
"The rest of my life," she repeats, as if testing how the words sound.
"At least you have a life," I remind her, moving around the desk to stand in front of her. "Vadim wants to take that from you. I'm giving you security, protection, a future. That's more than most people in your situation get."
She stares at me for a long moment, and I can see her processing everything—the reality of what she's married into, the life that stretches out before her, the man she's bound to forever.
"You really mean it," she whispers. "There's no way out."
"There's no way out," I confirm. "But there's also no way I'll let anyone hurt you. Ever."
Something shifts in her expression then, a resignation mixed with something else I can't quite identify. She nods slowly, as if accepting her fate.
"Then I guess I'd better learn to live with bodyguards," she says quietly.
"You'll learn to live with a lot of things," I tell her. "But you'll be alive to learn them. And I’ll do everything in my power to try and make you happy—as long as it doesn’t risk your life."
She turns to leave but pauses at the doorway. "Konstantin?"
"Yes?"
"That man whose hand you had cut off—will he live?"
The question surprises me. Most people in her position would be too afraid to ask, too horrified to want details.
"He'll live. He'll just have a permanent reminder of what happens when you cross the Mikhailov family."
She nods once, then disappears down the hallway, leaving me alone with the weight of what I've done—not just to Dmitri Kozlov, but to her. I've bound her to me, to this life, to this world of violence and danger. And despite the guilt that gnaws at me, I know I'd do it again.
Because the alternative—losing her—is unthinkable.
I return to my desk, but the papers blur before my eyes. All I can think about is Ivy and the way she looked at me just now. Like she was seeing me clearly for the first time. Like she was finally understanding what it means to be married to a man like me.
The rest of her life. The words echo in my mind, carrying a weight I hadn't fully considered before. I've given her security, yes. Protection. But I've also given her a cage, even if it's gilded with luxury and lined with good intentions.
The question is, will she learn to love the cage, or will she spend the rest of her life trying to escape it?
Only time will tell.