Page 112 of Ivory Ashes

I sigh. No rest for the wicked.

We emerge from the office. I hear raised voices the moment I step into the hallway.

“I don’t know who you think you are,” Helen hisses, “but I am his fiancée.”

“And I’m his wife!” Viviana snaps back.

I didn’t realize how nice it would be to hear her say that. To claim me.

“Just because you have that hideous ring on your finger, you think that gives you some power?” Helen snorts. “This marriage has been in the works for five years.”

“And I carried his child six years ago,” Viviana spits right back. “I had him well before you were in the picture.”

Fucking hell. I should have introduced these two sooner.

I’m trying to decide the likelihood of getting Viviana to reenact this conversation later in the bedroom when Anatoly claps a hand on my back. “Good luck, brother.”

“You’re not coming in?”

He’s already ducking down the hallway like he’s expecting shrapnel any second. “I think you can handle this on your own.”

“Coward!” I call after him.

He gives me a two-finger salute and disappears around the corner.

“I’m sure you’ve had a lot of men,” Helen says to Viviana. “Whores usually do.”

I blow out a breath and step into the mayhem.

40

VIVIANA

I’m going to kill her.

Actually, I might start with Mikhail. He’s the one who decided to marry me after he’d already proposed to another woman.

I guess that explains why he never dropped to one knee and gave me a ring. He’d already been through that song and dance with Ms. Sour Puss here.

Helen Drakos has the kind of face meant for bland editorials—the sullenness of high fashion. As soon as she wears an emotion, her face twists and creases like it can’t wait to be rid of it. She looks like overdried leather drenched in mismatched foundation.

“If you keep sneering like that, your face will get frozen that way,” I warn her. “It’s not a good look.”

Her forehead crease deepens, but before she can say anything, Mikhail is standing between us.

I hate that, even now, he looks good. Rumpled and more strung-out than he was ten minutes ago, but good.

“You’re two brides away from a reboot of Sister Wives, Mikhail. When were you going to tell me?”

“When the cameras showed up,” he retorts without a beat of hesitation.

I slam my palm into his chest before I can stop myself. Of course, Iron Man doesn’t even budge, so I’m forced to spin away from him and Helen, who is gawking at me over his shoulder. Seeing them side-by-side like this, I can understand why they got engaged. They look good together.

Which makes everything about this so much worse.

“I won’t be here when that happens. I have no interest in whatever the hell this is. If you two want to be together, go ahead. I won’t stand in your way.”

I storm towards the hallway, waiting for Mikhail to hurry after me.

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