Page 97 of Ivory Oath

I sigh. “It doesn’t have to be black and white like that.”

He catches my mouth, kissing me until I’m liquid. He presses his forehead to mine, breathing hard. “Right now, the entire world is black and white. There are good guys and bad guys. There’s safety and danger. I’m not willing to risk you or Dante or the baby-to-come,” he says, brushing his hand over my stomach, “in some gray area. Until I know it’s safe, you’re fired.”

What he’s saying makes sense, which is somehow worse.

“So what am I supposed to do until then?”

He takes me by the waist and lifts me onto the counter. His eyebrow is arched, his pupils expanding with every breath. “I have a few ideas.”

I don’t want this conversation to be over, but what more is there to say?

Mikhail loves me. He wants to keep me safe. How can I be upset with him about that?

I slowly untie my robe, letting it gape open. “I thought the goal was to make it through breakfast without having sex again.”

“And we did. Breakfast is over.” Mikhail shoves my robe off my shoulders, leaving me completely naked on the counter. He drags a finger slowly between my breasts. “That’s an accomplishment worth celebrating.”

He slides me to the edge of the counter and pushes into me. This morning, the sex was slow and gentle. Now, he spreads each of my knees against the counter and slams into me. It’s fast and rough.

I tug on the roots of his hair, meeting each thrust halfway until we’re slapping together. Until my screams echo off the tile and Mikhail is grunting against my neck.

I clamp down around him a second before he dives deep and stays there, twitching into me.

“Soon, you’re going to be carrying my baby.” He bites my neck, soothing the hurt with his tongue. “You’ll be pregnant and nothing else will matter.”

I still don’t know what I’m going to do every day. I don’t know when I’m going to be able to leave the house—when we’ll be safe. But when Mikhail is holding me like this, none of those questions seem nearly as important.

If this is all I ever have—Dante and Mikhail and the baby-to-come…

It’s enough.

41

VIVIANA

Mikhail, Dante, the baby we’re trying for… that’s enough for me.

They are more than enough for me.

I laid in bed all night, feeling the truth of that deep in my bones. But I couldn’t ignore another, just as persistent truth: knowing they are enough doesn’t mean I can’t want more.

Mikhail is in the kitchen with a mug of coffee when I walk in, armed with nothing but a middle-of-the-night plan and unearned optimism. He looks up and then looks harder. It’s like a double take, but from the moment he sets his eyes on me, they never waver.

He slams his mug on the table and I have to fight not to flinch.

If I had to guess, I’d say he’s probably pissed because I’m wearing my go-to work outfit—a navy blue pencil skirt with a pale blue button-down. The top few buttons are open, revealing the barest hint of business-appropriate cleavage. The heels are three inches high—tall enough that I meet most men in the office at eye-level, but short enough that I can be on my feet all day without wanting to throw myself out of a conference room window.

“Viviana.” Mikhail grits out my name. I’m not sure if he’s mad at me or seconds away from fucking me on the countertop the way he did a few days ago. He always had a thing for this skirt.

“Good morning,” I chirp, turning away from him to pour myself some coffee.

He curses softly under his breath.

A second later, he’s behind me. We aren’t touching, but I can feel him. It’s a pull like magnets getting too close.

“How did you sleep?” I ask innocently.

“Peacefully,” he snarls. “Because my wife respects my decisions and doesn’t pull ridiculous stunts to get my attention.”

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