Chapter 9 - Ivan
By the time the baby shower arrives, there’s no use pretending any of this is a secret. News travels fast in my family, especially when it involves one of us doing something questionable. Something Roman would wring our necks over.
He hasn’t called me yet, and I haven’t either. Though even if he hasn’t confronted me outright, that silence is deliberate. He’s choosing to wait and letting me stew in it before walking into a room full of witnesses, before he tears me a new one.
And what better place to do that than at a nonnegotiable family get-together?
Roman made it clear that attendance is mandatory, especially since it’s for Elena, and if you don’t show up, you'd better be dead or dying.
For a moment, I consider leaving Mila behind. It would make things a little less awkward for both of us, and it would spare me being ripped to shreds in front of her, but the thought doesn’t last long enough to take root.
At the present time, I don’t love the idea of leaving her alone in the apartment. Eventually, I won’t be able to help that, but for now, I’m not leaving her the chance to break everything I own out of spite.
This way, I know where she is, and I don’t need to spend the whole afternoon questioning what she’s doing or checking the cameras like a desperate idiot.
Mila doesn’t look happy in the passenger seat, wearing something from the clothes I had delivered. The sweater is simple and understated, yet expensive without screaming it. She still hasn’t said thank you for everything I got her, and I don’t really expect her to.
Really, she hasn’t said much of anything and has mostly been biding her time while we’ve been lying low.
If I’m being honest, anger suits her better than fear anyway.
When I pull up to Roman’s place, joining the other vehicles parked in the driveway, we get out.
I expect Mila to fight me the whole way, but instead, she gets out with tense shoulders, taking a few deep breaths, and bracing herself like she’s walking into a cage fight rather than a party celebrating the addition of another niece.
The house is already full of siblings, significant others, and little ones running around when we step inside. Immediately, we’re greeted by the kind of softness that always accompanies these things, which doesn’t usually exist.
What used to be Roman’s cold yet vintage house is now full of pink ribbons and balloons. Though, to Victoria’s credit, the place hasn’t been the same ever since they brought their two rugrats into the world.
Of course, there had to be an entire gender reveal before this, and knowing Elena, she wasn’t willing to wait to find out what her baby was supposed to be. Ergo, everything will be soft colors in their life for the next little while.
The sound of little voices carries through the house, growing louder as Dima, Roman, and Victoria’s oldest, runs down the hall while he giggles breathlessly, and a moment later, Anya barrels after him, giving a war cry in pursuit while a helium balloon follows her.
The others chuckle as they run to the living room, and before they can get far, Mikhail snatches them both up, one in each arm, eliciting louder squeals from their mouths.
“What did we tell you about running?” He asks them, grinning ear to ear as he terrorizes the kids, earning a chorus of exaggerated resistance from both of them.
“Don’t be like them, I beg you,” Roman murmurs to his youngest, Kira, while he holds her against his chest, where she drools on his shirt, but he focuses on smoothing back her dark hair instead. “My quiet, little angel.”
A doubtful snort comes from Victoria from the couch, where she sits comfortably with a glass of wine in her hands. “Don’t get your hopes up.”
Mila’s stiff next to me as we draw closer, and the moment the young ones see us, they light up, wriggling out of Mikhail’s grasp. Dima runs over first, but Anya isn’t far behind.
“Uncle Ivan!”
The others look to us next, and they still the moment their gazes flick over to Mila.
It isn’t dramatic, but it’s enough for me to notice.
Trying to focus on anything but the slight discomfort in the room, both from my plus one and my siblings, I ruffle Dima’s hair as he presses up against me, and I scoop Anya up to catch her grinning at me.
“Did you miss me?”
They both nod enthusiastically, and the latter wastes no time nattering on about the decorations and something Dima did earlier.
Then, once they’ve had enough of me, they hurry back to the others, with Dima asking to hold his sister, and Anya pestering her Uncle Wyatt.
Everyone’s here—even Artem, who flew in just a day ago for the occasion.
And of course, as the dust of the initial greeting starts to settle and the focus returns to us, I can hear what they’re all thinking loud and clear.
Ivan doesn’t bring guests. He doesn’t bring women to family things.
It’s true. I don’t.
I don’t have the best track record when it comes to investing my time and energy into relationships, and even if I’m entertaining someone in particular, I sure as hell don’t mix them in with my family. I don’t like complicating things, especially when it comes to things I don’t see lasting.
As if sensing the tension, Elena stands with Wyatt’s assistance, and she approaches wearing a long, flowing dress to match the decorations. She smiles and leans in for a hug.
“You came.”
“I said I would,” I murmur, returning the gesture. “Besides…I wasn’t dealing with your wrath for missing it.”
Her expression turns a bit devious at that when she pulls back. “Good choice.”
When her gaze slides to Mila, she looks vaguely curious, but not unkind. Of course, she’s been caught up to speed, too, given how the recognition settles in her features.
“You must be Mila,” she says, as warm as ever, regardless of the politics surrounding everything. “I’m glad you could make it.”
Mila blinks, clearly caught off guard by her outward acceptance, but she nods. “Thank you…and congrats.”
Elena’s smile stretches, still just as genuine, and she wastes no time reaching for her hand gently. In her social-butterfly way, she has always been disarming, and this is no different. “Come meet the others. I’ll get you a drink.”
Despite the slight startle, Mila nods, coming to terms with her fate surprisingly easily. Little does she know, my sister’s about to learn every single thing about her, and not give her up until she has been thoroughly chatted with.
The girls swarm her in their warm way, showing their polite interest and questions while passing a glass to her without hesitation. They’ll want to know what kind of woman I’ve brought into the fold, and even if it’s a bit grating, it’s also a good thing.
I’d rather they make her feel comfortable than not.
Though my brothers aren’t as enthusiastic, and while they’re introduced, I can feel their hesitation, given her name.
And just when I think I’m in the clear, my greeting isn’t quite as bubbly.
The second Roman’s hand lands on my shoulder, my stomach drops, and I brace myself.
“We need to talk,” he says quietly, but the firm way he stares at me makes one thing abundantly clear: he hasn’t forgotten.
The others join us, leaving the girls to talk with Mila, and soon enough, I’m ushered into Roman’s office, face to face with my unimpressed brother while Artem flanks him, just as big and menacing as always.
Wyatt lingers back with Nikolai and Sergey, while Mikhail rocks Kira off to the side, not concerned about her hearing, given how young she is.
The sounds of the party dim, now drowned out by the heavy silence of family business, and Roman turns on me first.
“What the hell are you doing?”
“Attending a baby shower,” I say plainly, masking my irritation and sheepishness by leaning back against the desk. “As demanded.”
“And you thought it was smart to bring a Grimaldi into my house.”
I hum. “Yes.”
“I wasn’t asking for confirmation,” Roman utters, all softness from before gone.
“Do you have any idea what kind of position this puts us in?” Artem speaks up, thick arms crossed over his chest, littered with tattoos. Like usual, his brown eyes fix on me like his stare alone could strike me down if he felt like it.
He has always been huge, and surprisingly, he even gives Roman a run for his money.
Though I push my luck only because we’re family. “I have a pretty clear idea, yes.”
“Then explain it,” Roman snaps, visibly furious. “Because from what I can see, you made a stupid decision on your own and recklessly gave our enemies a reason to escalate.”
“What I did was remove their leverage,” I counter, not allowing myself to sway. “There’s a difference.”
Sergey scoffs. “By taking her?”
“By pulling her out of the equation. She’s the heart of a Grimaldi-Balakin alliance.”
Wyatt lifts a brow at me. “You sound sure of that now.”
“Because I am. They were arranging a marriage between her and Maksim Balakin, and if I never stepped in, their alliance would’ve come to fruition overnight.”
Roman blinks at me, slow and deliberate. “And instead of killing the groom, you took the bride.”
“Maybe I did, but at least I didn’t marry her myself,” I say pointedly, glancing between them. “Like all of you would’ve—or have—done. Don’t pretend it isn’t true.”
The ones who have done exactly that exchange brief looks, well aware that I have a point, but they won’t admit it.
Artem manages a sound that borders on a laugh, but it doesn’t fully form. “That’s not the argument you think it is.”
“It doesn’t matter. I’m not bound to her, since she’s leverage.”
“And how do you plan on using that leverage then?” Roman questions, head tilted just enough to make it clear he’s trying to pin me with this. “Because bringing her to a baby shower sure doesn’t accomplish that.”
I go to respond, but nothing leaves my lips. And that’s when I realize I’ve spent far too long thinking about the why, and not the how.
Silence hangs heavily between us, and the longer it stretches, the more apparent it becomes that I’ve got nothing.
Artem’s eyes narrow. “You don’t have a plan.”
“I have the beginning of one.”
“You don’t have shit,” Roman retorts. “You know damn well that isn’t enough.”
I clench my jaw, wishing I had all the answers just to get him off my back. But I don’t.
After a beat, Roman sighs. “Now what? You parade her around and hope her brothers panic themselves into submission?”
“They’re already panicking. They’re lying low again, and Maksim hasn’t made a move to help them. Without Mila, there is no alliance,” I remind him, riding on that fact alone.
He considers this, mulling it over before absently rubbing at the stubble on his jaw. “Pulling her out of it does disrupt things…I’ll give you that.”
“Then trust me. This will help us.”
“It helps, but only temporarily,” Artem says, always cutting to the chase. “She can’t stay with you.”
That almost forces the air from my lungs, but I force myself to keep steady and not give away how devastating that feels. “She’s already with me.”
“That’s the problem. You’re too close to this, and I can’t trust you to handle things with her in the middle of it,” Roman adds, insinuating far more with his gaze. “I know you.”
My brows furrow. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means you think with your dick, Ivan,” Mikhail pipes up. “You always have.”
“You’re compromised, whether you want to admit it or not,” Roman murmurs, eyeing me closely.
A rush of irritation pulses through my system at the claims. I would say it’s because they’re wrong, though that isn’t it. Maybe I am compromised given the position I’m in, but that doesn’t mean I’m an idiot. They don’t think I’m capable of doing what needs to be done.
Sure, I’ve spent quite some time indulging rather than focusing on settling down like the rest of them, but that doesn’t mean I’m useless in this.
“That’s not true.”
Wyatt sighs, giving me a look that says he wants to be charitable, but can’t fully. “We had plans, Ivan. You were supposed to work with me on this, but you went ahead and put it all at risk.”
“And you brought her here, more specifically,” Roman utters.
“I wasn’t just going to leave her at home, plus I figured this would help her feel a little more human,” I grind out. “Not that you’ve been overly welcoming.”
I receive several irritated glances at that, but Artem stands a little straighter and cocks a brow at me. “Why not leave her at home if she’s just leverage?”
Hesitating to form an answer, I try not to make it too obvious, but there’s no denying how it catches me.
“If you’re claiming we need to remove her from the equation, then we do it fully,” he continues, watching me closely still, like he’s waiting for me to lash out.
“Send her somewhere else. Somewhere away from her brothers, and away from you. Somewhere safe and out of sight while the rest gets ironed out.”
My stomach twists hard.
“No,” I say immediately, feeling as everyone’s eyes snap over to me. “That’s not necessary.”
Scrutiny drips from his words as he continues to argue, “It’s the cleanest solution both for you and for her. You can’t keep her.”
As hard as I’m trying to keep myself together, an ugly rage curls inside my chest, begging for the chance to be let out. I grit my teeth. “We don’t need to treat her like a package to be shipped. Just let me handle it.”
“This doesn’t look like someone handling it,” Roman mutters, taking a purposeful step towards me. “You sound like someone making excuses for something they refuse to acknowledge.”
Determined not to flinch, I meet his gaze and hold it, hoping to get my point across even if he doesn’t want to listen. “I’m being someone who understands the value of timing, and not throwing away something useful.”
The office feels more like a pressure cooker with their focus on me, but after a long moment, with the slightest note of concession, he sighs. “Figure it out, Ivan. If you don’t, we will.” A beat later, he adds, “And don’t fuck up Elena’s day.”
Without any room to argue, I watch as he stalks away, and after giving me their final looks, the others follow. Whether I like it or not, the conversation is over.
Remove her from the equation. Send her away.
Those words repeat in my head long after they’re gone, and the idea chips at my ribs.
There’s no way. No goddamn way I’m doing that after everything.
Whatever this is…obsession, fixation, or potential mistake, I’m not done with it yet. I’m not done with her.
Brothers or not, I’m not letting anyone take her out of my reach.