Page 86 of Ivory Oath

Before the woman can even wonder what I mean, I press my gun to Damon’s neck and pull the trigger.

When I push the front door of the mansion open, Viviana is in the entryway.

She opens her mouth, ready to launch into an explanation or an apology or whatever the fuck it is she might want to say to me. Then she sees Raoul and Anatoly shuffling in behind me and her mouth slams shut.

There’s blood crusted under my fingernails. Probably dotting the collar of my shirt, too. But I don’t care. Let her see it. I’m tired of pretending I’m above this.

She may want to keep secrets, but I don’t. Not anymore.

The time we spent at the cabin was a fantasy. It might as well have been a dream. This is who I’ll always be at the end of the day: the man coming home late with blood on his hands.

But if Viviana sees it, she doesn’t say anything. She steps closer, her voice soft. “Can we talk?”

“We’ll talk when I’m ready.” I turn towards the stairs, but she slides in front of me.

Up close, I can tell she’s been crying. There are tear tracks down her cheeks. Her eyes are bloodshot. “Mikhail. Please.”

I can feel Anatoly watching me. Even Raoul is tuned into the drama, no matter how much he’ll deny it later. If they had any doubts about why I changed the plan and went homicidal on Christos’s brother, they don’t anymore.

Trouble in fucking paradise.

“If you knew where I’d just been, you’d know I’m in no mood to talk,” I grit out. “For your sake, we’ll do this later.”

Viviana looks up at me and I expect fear. I expect her to cower the way Damon’s wife did when she watched me kill her husband. Part of me even wants it.

But Viviana just nods and stands to the side.

I navigate around her and walk into my office. Not even a minute later, Anatoly opens the door. “I’d knock, but I’d hate for you to think I was your wife,” he says, pushing the door closed behind him. “I’ve seen how you treat her.”

I pour myself a drink and sit down in my chair. “Well, I’d offer you a drink, but I’d hate for you to think I want you to stay.”

He chuckles humorlessly. “Killing Damon didn’t have the lasting relief you were hoping for, eh? Turns out wanton murder might not be the solution to troubles at home?”

“Get out, Anatoly.”

“I thought your days of taking out your frustrations on a punching bag were over. I guess I was wrong,” he says. “You just found a living, breathing punching bag instead.”

The fact that I’m not sure if he’s talking about Damon, Christos, or Viviana is damning in a way that pisses me off.

“Leave. I’m not in the mood.”

“I know you’re not.” He drops down onto the sofa, making himself right at home. “I don’t care.”

We sit in silence for a few minutes. If he’s waiting for me to be the first to break and start this confessional, he’ll be waiting forever. I have nothing to say.

Finally, he sighs. “What happened back there?”

“Christos was tipped off, obviously. He bailed on the wedding because he was scared of facing me. And the asshole didn’t even have the decency to warn his brother that I was coming.”

“I’m not talking about the wedding. I know what happened there.” Anatoly’s jaw flexes. His hands rub together and I get the sense he has some frustrations to work through himself. “You charged into a building full of public figures and Drakos soldiers so you could kill Christos’s brother for the low, low price of, let’s see… zero new information. If Raoul and I hadn’t followed you inside, the guards in the lobby would have killed you.”

“Good thing I knew you were going to follow me inside.”

That’s a lie. I told them to wait outside and I didn’t see the guards waiting around the pillar. They would have cornered me from behind and I wouldn’t be here right now.

Anatoly shakes his head, and I know he doesn’t buy my bullshit. “I want to know what’s going on in your own house. With you and Viviana.”

I shoot him a warning look, but Anatoly doesn’t know when to quit. He gets that from our father. He stares back at me, anticipating answers I don’t have.

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