Page 110 of Ivory Ashes

There’s a first time for everything.

When I bothered to spend any time with her over the last five years, she usually couldn’t shut up. I considered it practice for the lifetime I would spend tuning her out.

Now, I don’t have a choice but to pay attention.

Dante’s fork clatters against his plate before I get the chance. “What’s a fee-nan-say?”

I suppress a snort. Leave it to a five-year-old to break the ice.

“Stella,” I call as I slide Dante out of his chair. Stella pokes her head out from behind Helen like a meerkat popping out of her hole. She was definitely lurking there to eavesdrop. I don’t even blame her. “Take Dante upstairs and put him to bed.”

“But I didn’t get cake!” Dante complains. “Mama promised I could have?—”

“We’ll take a slice upstairs with us,” Stella assures him. She smooths her hand down his little back, leading him away from the fallout area. “You can eat it in bed while we read.”

That gets him moving. Dante forgets about everything else, too focused on getting a corner slice to notice that his mother is currently homicidal.

But I notice.

Viviana is stone-faced, but there’s a fire burning in her eyes. She’s looking at Helen the same way she glared at the bouquet of roses on my desk today. Except now, it’s Helen she wants to rip apart petal by petal.

Watching her do just that would satisfy whatever dark fantasy has my cock hardening, but I’d hate to make Stella clean up all that blood.

“Now that we’re all here, let’s eat.” My father herds Helen towards the table.

I block their path. “First, let’s talk.”

Helen presses her hand to my chest. “What do you want to talk about, darling?”

“I want to talk to my father.” I pluck her hand off of my chest and let it fall to her side. Helen’s already angular face sharpens. She looks like she could cut glass. I step around her and look at my father as I add, “Alone.”

Anatoly’s chair scrapes away from the table. “Helen, you can wait for Iakov in the entryway. When they’re done chatting, you can both happily fuck off to?—”

“Sit down,” Viviana blurts. She pulls out Dante’s empty chair. “Join us, Helen. I’d love to get to know Mikhail’s fiancée.”

She doesn’t look at me. Won’t. I can tell it takes physical effort on her part to keep her eyes locked on Helen instead of sliding over to me.

“Great,” I announce. “While you two get to know each other, I’ll speak with my father. Otets, I’ll show you to my office.”

My father brushes past me gruffly. “I know where the fucking office is.”

Helen sits down next to Viviana, her face icy. Next to her, Anatoly is firing off silent pleas for me not to leave him alone with the two women. I’ve seen my brother take down half a dozen trained fighters at once, but this is the first time I’ve ever seen him scared.

If this shit wasn’t such a nightmare, it would almost be funny.

I turn my back on my brother and follow my father to my office. The moment the door is closed, he turns on me, face red. “What kind of game are you playing, Mikhail? Do you have any idea what you’re doing?”

“Before you showed up, I was having dinner.”

His top lip curls in barely contained rage. “Don’t be fucking cute. This marriage has been in the works for six years, but you wait until the home stretch to throw it all away. Why?”

“Circumstances changed.”

That’s putting it mildly.

He barks out a humorless laugh. “You’re going to throw away our plan for that bitch out there and her little brat?”

“That ‘brat’ is my son,” I growl. “Watch how you talk about him.”

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