Chapter 28
MAKSIM
For a second, I’m sure I’ve misheard her words. That my own desperate hopes have twisted them into what I’ve longed to hear. But then she lifts her head to look at me, one hand coming up to trace along my jaw. It’s when she smiles that I know she means it.
The rush of relief that tears through me nearly knocks the air from my lungs. Elation, sharp and wild, fills every part of me.
“You don’t know what you’ve just given me. You’ve made me the happiest man alive, Ivy. The happiest bride…” I murmur, kissing her jaw, her throat, tasting salt and warmth.
She pulls back just enough to look at me, surprise dancing in her eyes.
“Bride?” she repeats, laughter bubbling up in her voice, soft and incredulous.
I freeze. I hadn’t planned to say it. Not yet… Maybe not at all. But as soon as the word leaves her lips, I know there’s no taking it back. So I lean into it and cup her face to whisper against her lips, “Marry me, Ivy.”
Her eyes widen. “Maksim…”
“I’m serious.” My voice doesn’t waver. For once, nothing in me wavers. “Be my wife. Let me give you the world. Everything you deserve. I swear to you, I will make you the happiest wife anyone has ever known.”
She stares at me, caught between disbelief and something else—something softer. Finally, she exhales, a shaky sound. “I’ll say yes once we tell Leo… once he knows you’re his father.”
I nod without hesitation. “Agreed. He deserves the truth. No more secrets.”
I want this memory to burn into us both. I want her to feel, with every touch, that she is mine and I am hers. That no force on earth—not Mikhail, not Anton’s loyalists, not even death itself—will sever what binds us.
Later, when we finally make it up to her bedroom and lie tangled together again under her sheets, I stroke her hair in long, slow passes, my heart refusing to slow. The sound of the front door opening downstairs jolts us both up and out of bed.
“Shit, my parents,” Ivy mutters.
I sigh, dragging a hand through my hair, the strands still damp from sweat and the softness of her touch. The afterglow of our intimacy fades too quickly, eclipsed by the icy weight of what waits beyond her bedroom door. It’s a cruel shift going from heaven to judgment in the span of a breath.
But I suppose it’s better this way. Better to rip the bandage off and get this confrontation out of the way now, rather than after I’ve stolen their daughter and grandson from them for the second time.
Because that’s exactly what I plan to do.
I move to stand, grabbing my shirt from the pile we’d carried up with us when we retreated to her bedroom.
There’s a part of me that wants to laugh bitterly.
After all of our back and forth and indecision, and finally coming to a compromise both of us are happy with, now we’re facing an entirely new threat.
“Ivy? You home, sweetheart?” her mother’s voice floats up from downstairs, sounding perfectly calm.
She doesn’t know yet—that her daughter has let the devil back inside.
Beside me, Ivy reaches for my hand, her fingers wrapping around mine. When she squeezes, something shifts in me. The storm quiets for a breath.
I let her pull me along down the hallway. Every step toward the stairs feels like marching toward trial. Judgment. A sentence already written.
When we reach the landing, we stop.
Her parents are in the entryway.
Her mother holds a brown paper bag in one arm, her purse slung over her shoulder. Her father stands just behind her, keys still in hand as he pulls the door shut behind them. Then her mother looks up and the moment she sees me, the color drains from her face.
“What is he doing here?” she demands, her voice rising in pitch. “He can’t be here! Where is Leo? Oh, please tell me you didn’t—”
“Stop,” Ivy says sharply, lifting a hand.
Her mother falls silent.
Ivy’s voice softens as she takes a step forward, still holding my hand. “We all need to talk.”
Her mother’s eyes immediately fall to our joined hands, widening as if our laced fingers are some declaration of war. I feel the shift in Ivy’s grip, the subtle tremble beneath her strength, but she doesn’t let go. And for that, I’m grateful. For once, I’m not standing alone against her parents.
Her father is the one who speaks next. “Talk about what, exactly?”
The way he says it, it’s clear he already knows. Or suspects enough to make him uneasy. The pinched look around his eyes, the tight line of his jaw, the way his arm presses firmer against his wife’s back. They’ve braced themselves for bad news.
And still, hearing it aloud will be worse.
We descend the stairs together, step by step, and follow them into the living room.
Ivy’s mother sets the grocery bags on the kitchen counter with shaking hands before she joins us, as if clinging to the ritual of unloading fruit and bread will somehow delay whatever’s coming.
She abandons it moments later, though, returning to the living room and practically collapsing into the couch.
Her father doesn’t sit.
He paces toward the bay window, arms folded over his chest, eyes trained on the street outside like he expects danger to come storming up the sidewalk at any moment. He won’t even look at us.
Ivy lowers herself into the loveseat across from her mother, gently tugging me down with her. I don’t wedge myself beside her—there’s no room—but I perch on the armrest, my hand still in hers, my other braced against my knee.
“Maksim is taking us back to Russia with him,” Ivy says.
Her mother’s head snaps up.
“Us?” she echoes, like she’s misheard. “As in you and Leo?”
Ivy nods. “Yes.”
The color drains from her face. “You can’t be serious.”
Her father finally turns away from the window, his voice taut with fury. “You’re going to drag that boy back into his world? After everything that happened?”
“No one is dragging him anywhere,” Ivy says evenly. Her voice quavers, but her resolve does not. “I’m choosing this. I’m thinking about what’s safest for Leo.”
Her mother cuts her off. “What’s safest? You think running off to Russia with a… a Mafia boss is safe?”
I glance at her, not rising to the bait. This is grief speaking. Fear, not logic.
Still, I speak up anyway to reassure them. “I’ve made arrangements. They will be protected. The estate is locked down tighter than most foreign embassies. There are armed guards, reinforced security systems, an entire compound that answers to only me.”
“That’s supposed to make us feel better? You think that turning their lives into a war zone is suddenly going to be fine now that you’re going to dress it up in marble and gold?” her father growls.
“No,” I say. “It’s supposed to make you feel assured that what happened before will never happen again.”
Her mother rubs her hands over her face. “This is insane. Ivy, I thought you said when he came back, it was to say goodbye.”
Ivy’s grip on my hand tightens again. “It was. I did send him away. But… then I realized we’re never going to be out of danger. Not completely with who Leo is. He’s Maksim’s son, an heir. That makes him a target whether we’re here or across the ocean.”
Her father’s face hardens. “You want him to grow up in that world?”
“No. But I want him to grow up alive,” she says.
Her father’s face falls. “Ivy…”
She shakes her head at him. “I love you both, but what I’m saying is true. I made the choice to have Leo, knowing who his father was.”
“You said he wasn’t alive,” her mother chokes out.
“I know. A lot has happened that I can’t really get into without making you both targets. Just trust me when I say that it’s all been handled. Maksim never wanted to abandon Leo and me. If he had a choice, we would’ve never left Russia.”
I nod, agreeing.
She continues, “If anything ever happens again, I can’t risk our being unprotected. What Maksim says is true. He’ll be using every resource he has to keep us safe. ”
Her mother shakes her head. “You trust him to actually do that, though?”
Ivy glances at me before saying, “Yes. I do.”
“Why?” her father asks coldly. “Because he got you out of a mess he put you in to begin with?”
“That’s not fair,” Ivy snaps.
“No, it’s not,” I cut in, voice calm, steady. “But it’s not wrong either.”
All three of them look at me.
“I know what I’ve done. I know what I am. I don’t expect your forgiveness, but I will earn your trust—if not for my sake, then for Leo’s. I swear to you, there is nothing on this earth I wouldn’t do to keep him and Ivy safe.”
Her mother looks away, eyes wet. Her father lets out a long breath through his nose, pacing again, but slower this time.
“You’re asking us to say goodbye to our daughter… to our grandson,” her mother says hoarsely.
Ivy shakes her head. “I’m asking you to understand why I can’t stay here.
I’m not cutting you off, please don’t think that.
I know we had a long rough patch where we didn’t speak, but this isn’t the same.
We’ll still talk, Leo and I will still come back and visit.
I’ll send videos and pictures and everything I can to make it easier, but…
” She trails off, then finishes softly. “This is what I have to do for my family.”
The word lands heavily in the room.
Her family.
Not just the one she came from but the one she’s building. With me.
They’re quiet for a long time. When father finally speaks again, he lets out a slow breath. His arms slowly uncross from his chest, his strides pulling away from the window to head over toward us.
When he reaches where Ivy’s sitting, he holds out his arms to her. “You come back to visit. Often. You don’t shut us out.”
“I won’t,” Ivy promises, standing up to hug him.
Her father glances at me. “You get one shot at this, Antonov. Don’t waste it.”
“I won’t,” I say.
I truly mean it.
And somehow, just like that… it’s done.