Chapter 30 Ivy
IVY
The bell over the diner door jingles, the sound as ordinary as the hum of the coffee pot behind me or the scratch of forks on plates throughout the small space.
It’s mid-afternoon, the lull between the lunch rush and the dinner crowd. The sun slants in through the blinds, painting warm stripes across the faded linoleum. I’ve been pouring the same pot of coffee for the past hour, topping off mugs that are already half-cold.
The monotony is a comfort despite it being boring as hell. At least here, I know what’s coming. At least here, I’m not waiting for a bomb to detonate my entire life.
“Refill?” I ask a man in a ballcap at the counter.
He nods, barely looking up from his newspaper. I pour, smile, then replace the pot back onto its burner behind me.
Turning, I head toward the back to grab another stack of napkins from the shelf. My hands shake as I line them up into neat little piles. I hate it. Hate how no matter what I do, no matter how steady I force my breathing to be, Maksim still creeps into my thoughts.
Where did he get off dropping into my world like this? With barely any explanations and no answers. He says he stayed away to keep me safe. A noble story, but one that doesn’t wash the bitterness from my heart.
Because if that’s true, then what is this? Him showing up here, in my town, in the middle of my carefully rebuilt life?
Convenient, that’s what it feels like. Convenient for him.
I want to give Maksim the benefit of the doubt.
I always did back then, when I was young and foolish and too easily swayed by his charm.
I loved him, but love doesn’t erase the fact that he let me believe he was gone.
That he left me to raise our child alone, let me walk through hell while he played hero in another country.
Now he thinks he can waltz back in and lay claim to both me and Leo?
The thought boils my blood.
What if I had moved on since his supposed “death”? What if someone else had stepped in and filled the place he’d left behind? Would he have stormed into my life then too, dragging me back and demanding I bend to his will?
He has no idea what my life is now. No idea what it took to claw myself out of the pit his absence dug, or the bridges I built back to survive, the ones I mended to come home again. He has no idea what it cost me to raise Leo without him.
The cruelest part is some traitorous corner of me still aches when I think of him, still wants me to forgive the damage he’s inflicted.
I slam the stack of napkins onto the counter harder than I meant to. The sound draws a curious glance from one of the truckers in a booth, but I ignore him, forcing my hands still. The bell above the diner door jingles, and I don’t think anything of it until the air shifts.
It’s ridiculous how quickly I know.
Every hair on my arms stands on end, my body reacting before my eyes even lift up to look over. When they finally do, I find Maksim Antonov standing in the doorway of my diner, his eyes pinned directly on me.
He looks every bit the Mafia boss he is.
The clink of silverware from the booths surrounding me, the faint country song droning over the speakers, all of it fades away until there’s only him.
I grip the counter, my knuckles white. “Fuck…”
What the hell is he doing here?
He steps further inside. The bell over the door swings shut with a final jingle that feels too much like a lock clicking into place.
The other waitress, Jess, doesn’t notice the way my body stiffens when she moves around the counter and over to the podium to greet him, completely oblivious to the intimidating aura rolling off Maksim in waves.
“Table for one?” she asks.
He smiles. It isn’t wide, it never is, but it’s that same faint curve I remember all too well. “No. I’m here for someone.”
I force myself to move away from the counter and over to the podium before he can say anything else. “Outside. Now.”
He doesn’t argue with me.
The apron slips from my fingers, landing in a crumpled heap draped over the podium. The sound is soft, mostly insignificant against my heart pounding in my chest, but it feels like the final nail in the coffin of the life I’ve built.
His hand moves, large and warm, and closes around my wrist. The weight of it isn’t painful, but it’s absolute, a silent declaration that I’m not slipping away.
Jess’s eyes dart between us, confusion flashing across her face. “Um… does this mean you’re taking your lunch break?”
I don’t answer. Annoyance is already making my teeth hurt from how badly I’m clenching them together. I yank against him and pull us both toward the door. The bell chimes above us loud enough to send another shot of annoyance through me.
The fresh air slaps against my face as we step outside, a blessed contrast to the boiling heat under my skin. I suck in a deep breath, trying to steady myself, but his suffocating presence crowds the oxygen right back out of my lungs.
I don’t stop until we’re around the back of the building in the alleyway. The scents of grease and old trash rise from the dented green dumpster. Here, at least, there aren’t eyes watching from coffee cups and booth corners.
I whirl on him, yanking my wrist free with more force than necessary. “Why the hell did you come here?”
“I’m here to take you home.”
I shove at his chest, desperate for space. Desperate for him to budge, but he’s immovable, a wall of iron disguised as a man. “Fuck off. I’m not going anywhere with you.”
“Ivy.”
“No, Maksim.” My voice shakes, but I don’t care.
I need him to hear it, to get it. “I told you yesterday, you don’t just get to come back into my life and pick up where we left off.
I’m settled here. Leo is settled here. I’m not letting you rip that away from us because you suddenly feel like playing family. Because you want to be selfish.”
For the first time since meeting him again, something cracks in his expression. His jaw tightens, the muscle twitching like a warning. His eyes narrow as fury licks at them.
He steps in, closing the space I fought to put between us, his shadow cutting over me in the alley’s weak light.
His voice is low, but every syllable burns.
“You think this is selfish? You think I crossed an ocean, risked everything, just to indulge myself? No, Ivy. I came because it is no longer safe for you here. For you both.”
I freeze. “What?”
He doesn’t answer right away. The brick wall scrapes against my spine when I instinctively retreat, leaving me caged between him and the building behind me. His hand rises, not to touch me, but to brace on the wall above my shoulder.
“Mikhail Sidrov,” he says at last, each syllable measured. “Anton’s son. There are rumors he’s starting a faction to take me out for killing his father.”
My throat works, but no sound comes out.
“I will not let him start another war. I intend to crush him before he can gain any more momentum. But until that happens, I need to make sure you and Leo are safe. The only way I can do that is by taking you back to Russia with me.”
I want to scream at him, tell him he doesn’t get to say that, but the picture he’s painting is far too vivid for me to dismiss. What if this Mikhail person wants to use Leo like his father used me? Using our son as Maksim’s pressure point to bend to his will? To break him through his bloodline?
The idea horrifies me. No, it terrifies me.
What I went through in that interrogation room, I wouldn’t wish on anyone. Not even my worst enemies. And certainly never my son.
But the thing is, hiding won’t fix this. Going back to Russia won’t fix this either. If anything, it would place Leo and me directly in the eye of the storm. Yes, we’d be wrapped in the Antonov Bratva’s protection, but walls can crumble at any time. Case and point, the coup.
Men can be bought. Secrets can be shared and used as currency.
Nothing is infallible—not even Maksim.
“I can’t,” I say.
He sighs, leaning back just enough to scrub his free hand down the side of his face. “This isn’t up for debate, Milaya.”
The nickname sends a shiver racing up my spine. “You can’t predict when the next strike will happen, Maksim. Bringing us to Russia is only going to make it easier for this new faction to take us.”
“Not if I lock you behind the walls of the compound,” he growls out.
The image rips through me—Leo behind bars disguised as gates, his freedom stripped away under the guise of safety.
My blood runs hot with anger. I shove at his chest, glaring up at him, refusing to let him cage me with that vision.
“You’re not doing that. My son isn’t going to become some fucking ornament for you to put on a shelf to keep safe. ”
“Our son,” he bites back.
I shove harder, my palms flat against the wall of his chest, but he doesn’t budge an inch.
“Whatever,” I spit out. “Figure out something else, Maksim, because I’m not coming to Russia with you. And neither is Leo.”