Page 102 of Ivory Ashes

My heart tries to thaw, but I resist. “Yep. Mikhail, too.”

Dante snuggles up under his blanket and I blow him a kiss before I pull the door closed.

“He was in a good mood tonight.” Mikhail is leaning against the wall a few feet away, but he might as well be whispering in my ear. A shiver works down my spine and I fight hard to repress it.

“Probably because you loaded him up with spaghetti and breadsticks. It’s hard to be sad when you’re jacked up on garlic butter.” I spin away from him, heading for my door. This conversation is over, as far as I’m concerned.

“That makes your bad mood even more impressive.”

I have every intention of walking into my bedroom and locking the door, but I find myself turning to face him.

Mikhail is right behind me now, closer than I thought. I have to take a step back to avoid running into his chest.

“Where there’s a controlling, lying asshole, there’s a way.”

“This is about this morning.” It isn’t a question; he already knows the answer.

“This morning. Yesterday. Last week,” I list off. “This is about every single second I’ve spent with you since the moment we met six years ago.”

“I distinctly remember you being in a very good mood during some of those seconds.” He leans closer, the mint and cedar scent of him drawing me in even though I should be flinging myself in the other direction. His blue eyes scrape over my face. “Why were you crying?”

I blink.

Oh, yeah. This way madness lies, for sure.

I back against my door, fumbling for the doorknob. “Do you get some kind of pleasure out of emotionally confusing the people around you? Because you’re losing me with the subject changes.”

I finally get the door open and try to slip inside, but Mikhail wedges himself in the doorway. “Talk to me.”

“I don’t want to.”

“I didn’t ask if you wanted to,” he growls, his patience slipping away.

I snort. “Which is exactly why I don’t want to! You saved me from Trofim so I could get away from this world, but you didn’t give me a choice when you dragged me back. Now, you’re not giving me a choice in how I raise my son. So, no, I don’t want to talk to you.”

“I saved you from Trofim because it was a convenient pitstop on the way to taking over the Bratva.”

“Right,” I groan. “You never cared about me. You would have let me rot with Trofim if it hadn’t been convenient for you to do otherwise. God forbid I think you cared about me for even a second. You’ve made all that perfectly fucking clear, Mikhail. What isn’t clear is why you suddenly think you know what is best for my son despite having only met him two weeks ago.”

“The only reason I don’t know him is because?—”

“Because of me,” I finish. “I know! God, Mikhail, I fucking—I know, okay? I know I kept him from you and that was wrong, but it doesn’t change the fact that I have five more years of experience than you in raising a kid. I know what is good for Dante.”

Mikhail closes my bedroom door and looms over me, his square jaw clenched. “If you knew what was good for him, you never would have kept him from me in the first place.”

“Which is why I’m not going anywhere!” I throw my arms wide, gesturing to my new bedroom. I blow out a breath, suddenly exhausted. “I can see that you’re good for Dante, whether I like it or not. It’s why I’m not grabbing him and fleeing into the night.”

“You asked to leave.”

“Exactly,” I point out. “I asked. I could have tried to escape, but I asked you instead.”

Mikhail doesn’t give anything away. He’s watching me, assessing every word out of my mouth. Somehow, this moment feels more exposing than any we’ve ever had.

“I want you in his life, Mikhail. I just… I want other people in his life, too. Friends, teachers, teammates. Dante is an extrovert. He makes friends everywhere he goes and likes playing with other kids. If we keep him locked up here, he’ll grow to hate it.”

Mikhail takes a deep breath. “I want him to have the best education money can buy. He wasn’t getting that at his other school.”

“I know. He can count to sixty-seven now.” Just like that, the bubble of tension pops and I can’t find the energy to stand anymore. Panic attacks always leave me exhausted. I walk backwards to the bed and sink down on the edge of the mattress.

---