Page 121 of Doctored Vows

His chuckles rumble through my chest when I murmur, “You’re a shit liar, Mr. Ivanov.”

He hits me with a frisky wink before murmuring over my lips I’m praying are about to become kiss swollen, “I learned that from the best too.”

EPILOGUE

Six years later…

“Not too much longer, sweetheart, and then you will feel much better.”

Beautiful, big brown eyes peer up at me as the anesthetic pulling Veronika under lengthens her blinks. I brush back the locks that snuck out from under her hairnet before lifting my eyes to the lead surgeon on this case.

“Ready?” Eva asks as she heads toward an OR nurse with her scrubbed-to-within-an-inch-of-their-life hands held in front of her.

Once she is gloved up and ready to operate, she spins to face me.

I nod, words above me.

Today is a big day for Veronika’s family, and one they would have never seen if it weren’t for the generosity of Ivanov Industries.

Although I didn’t allow Maksim to buy every hospital in the country, much to his dismay, he secured our charity organization the right to operate in almost every one of them.

We don’t undertake surgical procedures solely on children with neurological disorders. Our help extends to all forms of medical assistance, and our patients don’t pay a single cent for the healthcare they so desperately need.

We’re bridging the gap between wealthy patients and ones with no insurance one case at a time. To date, we’ve helped over seventy families with lifesaving surgeries they were previously denied and hundreds of less complicated procedures.

I was meant to lead in Veronika’s surgery today, but with my stomach as swollen as a beach ball, I chose to sit it out. A standard craniotomy takes three to five hours to complete, but Veronika’s is more complicated, so I couldn’t risk needing to hand over her care mid-surgery if I were to go into labor.

“She is in good hands,” I advise Veronika’s parents when she is wheeled away from them. “Dr. Mahoney is the best neurosurgeon in the country.”

Maksim’s deep rumble rolls through my ears as I direct Mr. and Mrs. Bordoza to the ICU waiting room. “Still a shit liar, Doc.” He props his shoulder onto the doorframe of the OR’s nurses’ station before he drags his eyes down my body in a slow and dedicated sweep. “My wife is a fucking genius.” He returns his now hooded eyes to my face. “And she’s sexy as fuck too.”

I try to act unaffected by his presence. It isn’t my best effort, but once again, if I don’t keep things even between us, he will eat me alive. “What are you doing here, Maksim? I thought you were helping my father and grandmother move into their new place.”

My grandfather lost his fight five years ago. It was six months after my father was released from custody to await a new trial. The evidence was still damning against him, particularly since he has always admitted his guilt, but when the jury was finally informed of the extent of my mother’s injuries and just how brutal her assault was, his sentence was reduced. With time served counting toward his new conviction, he was able to sit at his father-in-law’s bedside during his final weeks.

“They’re all settled, so I thought I’d come check on my stubborn wife.” His eyes lower to my stomach, his lip hitching higher like he’s obsessed with how its roundness fills in my scrubs. “You’re nine months pregnant, Doc. You shouldn’t be standing all day.”

“In these shoes, it feels like I’m walking on a cloud.” He smirks, cocky he won our shoes and clothes debate within the first two months of our marriage. “Besides, I only have another…”—I cringe when I check the time—“seven hours until I am on maternity leave.”

“That’s one of the perks of being the boss. You can give yourself an early mark whenever you want.” He pushes off the door and heads my way. “But since I know how important this particular case is to you”—Veronika has the same brain tumor Stefania had—“we’ll compromise.” My knees pull together when he states his terms. “I’ll take you out for lunch, make you scream my name twice on the drive back to check in on your patient, and then I’ll rub out your aches in the tub after your shift.”

When he cradles my head and brushes his lips against my temple, I take a moment to relish his hand in my hair and his minty breath in my nose since he put cigarettes on the line while negotiating for me to ditch contraception, before saying, “You still haven’t learned the art of negotiating, Mr. Ivanov.”

“I haven’t?” When he inches back, bringing us eye to eye, I nod. “How so? Did you miss the part about you screaming my name…?”

“Twice,” we say at the same time.

He smiles, loving how well we still gel after six years.

The past few years have been relatively smooth, but we faced a handful of bumps our first year of marriage. Don’t misconstrue. We were rock solid, even after learning he didn’t solely marry me so I’d be protected under the same laws that shelter his family. He did it for the exact reason I tried to strip from him when I thought he married me so he’d have an alibi.

We exchanged vows so he couldn’t testify against me—no matter which court I’d face charges from.

But the laws that protected us almost took us out when the boss of all bosses learned it wasn’t Maksim’s father’s new bride who killed him.

It was Matvei—Maksim’s younger brother.

Hell rained down on us, and I learned hard and fast that there are more things that could steal Maksim away from me than his protectiveness.

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