Page 56 of Ivory Ashes

She grins. “My thoughts exactly. Which is why I got you one to match.”

I grit my teeth and yank open the second box. Just like she said, the same obnoxiously-colored stones are arranged in concentric squares and set in a thick yellow-gold band.

“Look inside,” she says, leaning across the island. Her shirt gaps open. I can see the lace of her bra against her skin. “There’s another surprise.”

I assume she means inside the ring and not down her shirt. I lift the ring up to the light and notice ridges on the inside of the band.

Carved out of the gold like a stamp is one word: Viviana.

“Even when you take it off, my name will be imprinted on your skin,” she says, obviously amused with herself. “Isn’t that sweet?”

I close the rings in my fist until I feel the cut of the stones in my palm. Then I shove them in my pocket.

“Do you like them?” she asks, knowing full well I don’t.

“Remind me to come along next time you go shopping. Apparently, it’s true what they say: you can’t buy class.”

Her smile vanishes. “I guess not. If you could, I’m sure you’d have some by now.”

“I never would have bought these rings, so it’s a start.”

“Maybe you should have picked them out to begin with,” she snaps. “Real class act, by the way, having your wife pick out her own wedding ring.”

There wasn’t time to buy her a ring. Everything happened so fast. Even if there had been time, I still wouldn’t have done it.

The last time I bought a ring for a woman, I buried her in it. I have no interest in repeating history.

“I figured a roof over your head and a closet full of new clothes for you and your son was enough of a gift.”

Viviana’s jaw clenches. Then she whips around and kicks the pile of bags. They go flying across the kitchen floor. “I don’t want any of this shit!”

“Then what do you want?”

Her eyes scrape over me, the truth tucked away inside them.

“From you? Nothing.” She overturns the bags, silk and lace spilling across the tile floor. “Maybe you’re used to women you can pay off with pretty clothes and diamonds, but I’m not fucking interested. None of this makes up for what you’ve done.”

I ease around the island, aware of every inch of space I’m closing between us. “What is it I’ve done, Viviana?”

She’s breathing heavily, her shoulders rising and falling with each breath. I watch her scan me, scan the room. She’s looking for an exit as if there’s any chance she can escape. As if I won’t cut her off at every pass.

“You forced me to marry you.”

“You had a choice,” I counter.

She drags her hand through her hair, tugging at the roots. “You command me around your house like you own me. Like I’ll just go and do your bidding. Buy this; wear that; go here, not there.”

“I do own you,” I growl. “In every way that counts, you’re mine.”

“You’ve taken away everything. Everything I worked for.” She blows out a breath, a strand of hair fluttering around her forehead. “Maybe you don’t know what that’s like, but I had to build a life from nothing. When I walked out of that bridal suite, I didn’t have anything. No money. No connections. No—” She looks up at me, something like guilt flashing in her eyes before it’s gone. “I had to sacrifice more than you know for the pitiful, classless life you think I was living. Now, it’s gone.”

“It was going to get snatched away from you either way,” I growl. “One way or another, someone was going to destroy your fantasy. You should be grateful it was me instead of someone who would have left you both dead.”

“As far as I can tell, you are the threat, Mikhail. You’re the one who kidnapped me and my son. You’re the one I’ve been running from for the last six years.”

"You weren't running because of me.”

She was running from Trofim. From her father. I never threatened her.

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