Page 44 of Ivory Oath

A few weeks ago, I would have been scrambling. I spent six years crafting this gunrunning plot and putting all the pieces together: securing the weapons shipments, gaining the port access, buying a shell company to launder the money.

Now, it’s all gone to hell.

But I’m still here. I have Viviana and Dante. I have my brothers.

None of my plans have worked out the way I thought they would, but they’ve all worked out the way they should.

“Then we’ll make a new plan, Raoul.” I clap him on the back, banging another round of coughs out of him. “We’ll figure it out.”

19

VIVIANA

I wake up to reminders of Mikhail everywhere.

There’s a soft ache between my legs where he stretched me. My nipples are sensitive from his lips and his teeth. The possessive way he clung to me left bruises that are still blooming on my hips and my thighs.

I feel him everywhere except in the bed next to me, which is where I want him most.

After the phone call, he left in a hurry last night. He didn’t have time to explain what was going on, but I could tell by the worry in his eyes that it was serious.

“We’ll talk about this tomorrow,” he said before he left me in front of the door to his bedroom.

He still wants me to sleep in his bedroom, I thought. That has to be a good sign.

Before the poorly thought out pregnancy announcement I made, the entire night was one good sign after another. I mean, Mikhail named a star after me. I’ve spent my life looking up at the stars and trying to make sense of the universe. Now, tucked amongst the celestial landscape are three little dots. My family, together, forever.

My insides melt just thinking about him choosing those stars for us.

They melt even more when I remember how it felt to have his voice in my ear. The dirty things he whispered against my skin have absolutely ruined me for anyone else.

I want to see you pregnant with my child. I want everyone to know that you’re mine.

After everything he said last night, I’m not worried that Mikhail is going to change his mind about me. I’m not tiptoeing around the mansion the way I was yesterday, worried that the slightest wrong move would get me tossed out on my ass.

But I hate that things are unresolved between us. I want to smooth this misunderstanding out and then, if I’m lucky, Mikhail will smooth me out, too.

I stretch my arms over my head and climb out of bed.

I could go down the hall and get my own clothes, but Mikhail’s closet is too tempting. I pull on a pair of his athletic shorts. I have to tighten the string and roll the waistband an absurd amount of times. Plus, it looks ridiculous with his flannel shirt. But I don’t care. I’m wrapped in the woodsy citrus scent of him as I pad downstairs.

I barely manage a single step into the kitchen before a small body slams against my legs.

“Mama!” Dante squeezes my knees together and jumps up and down. “You’re here.”

I scoop him up, feeling much steadier than I did the last time I held him. It’s miraculous what a lot of rest and a love confession can do for your stability. “I’m going to be here every day, buddy. I’m not going anywhere.”

I plop him back in front of his bowl of cereal.

“That’s what Anatoly said. I wanted to come see you this morning, but he said you needed to sleep.” Dante rolls his eyes. “He said you had a long, hard night, but you’ve been sleeping for, like, a million years.”

I make a mental note to punch Anatoly in the arm later. Hard.

“Where is Uncle Nat, anyway?” I ask through gritted teeth.

There’s a small bowl of cereal and half a banana on the island for Dante, but I don’t see signs of anyone else’s food. Before… everything, I’d come downstairs and find Stella in the kitchen with Dante. She always had French toast and freshly-squeezed juice for him.

The image of her crumpled on the cold garage floor, a gaping wound in her chest, flashes behind my eyes. My heart clenches hard, but I fight back the tears. Today is a happy day. My first day back in the mansion with Dante. I don’t want to do anything to ruin it.

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