Page 4 of Till Death Saves Me

Each memory fuels the fire burning in my chest. I lift my chin, meeting his cold stare head-on.

I had hoped when I first met him that it wouldn't be so bad. He's always been jaw-droppingly gorgeous, and I thought we could find something amicable. Not love. Never love in this kind of business. But maybe something that wasn't a full blown feud.

Unfortunately, he's an arrogant asshole who seems out to make me miserable. I can't wait to marry him…

Yeah. My eyes can't roll any harder.

To my surprise, the next time his gaze darts over to me, Ivan starts making his way towards me. I brace myself, expecting another cutting remark. But as he reaches me, something in his expression shifts. It's not quite softness – I doubt Ivan Kozlov has a soft spot in his entire toned and muscular body – but it's... different.

Without a word, he pulls out a small velvet box from his jacket pocket. My breath catches in my throat as he thrusts it at me.

"Guess you better start wearing this," he grunts out, seeming just as put out as I feel.

With trembling fingers, I open the box. Inside lies the most exquisite ring I've ever seen. A large, flawless diamond is surrounded by smaller sapphires, all set in white gold. It's breathtaking. It's perfect.

And I hate it.

I hate that it's beautiful. I hate that it's exactly what I would have chosen for myself. Most of all, I hate the way my heart skips a beat as I slip it onto my finger.

I can't help the small, sad sigh that escapes my lips as I admire how it catches the light. It glows against my ebony skin, making it seem even more sparkling, and that makes the whole thing worse. This should be a moment of joy, not resignation.

Ivan's eyes flick from the ring to my face. For a moment, I swear I see something flicker in those icy depths. Uncertainty? Regret? But it's gone before I can be sure.

"It looks good," he says, his tone oddly lacking its usual bite. Before I can respond, he turns on his heel and stalks off towards Nikolai, leaving me alone with my conflicted emotions and a ring that weighs far more than its carats suggest.

But I should have known that Ivan not being an ass was just a fluke.

Throughout the night, I can't help but find my gaze drawn to Ivan throughout the evening, despite the loathing that burns in my chest. He moves through the crowd with an easy confidence that borders on arrogance.

Actually, scratch that - it's pure, unadulterated arrogance. The kind that's only grown more potent over the years, like a fine wine gone sour.

Every time our eyes meet across the room, I'm hit with a fresh wave of resentment. The memories of how he's always treated me flood back - like I'm nothing more than gum stuck to the bottom of his ridiculously expensive Italian leather shoes. An annoyance to be scraped off and discarded.

I watch as he charms a group of older men, no doubt some of Daddy's business associates. His smile doesn't reach his eyes, but they don't seem to notice. They're too busy laughing at whatever clever thing he's just said. I bet it wasn't even that funny.

Ivan turns, catching me staring. His eyebrow quirks up, that infuriating smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. I quickly look away, grabbing a fresh glass of champagne from a passing waiter. My cheeks burn, and I silently curse myself for giving him the satisfaction.

But like a magnet, my eyes are drawn back to him moments later. He's talking to Nikolai now, his posture stiff and formal. Even from across the room, I can see the shift in his demeanor. The easy charm is gone, replaced by something colder, more dangerous.

It's a stark reminder of the world I'm being dragged into. A world where men like Ivan and Nikolai hold real power - the kind that has nothing to do with boardrooms and stock options.

I take a long sip of champagne, trying to quell the nervous flutter in my stomach. This is my life now. Whether I like it or not, I'm about to become Mrs. Ivan Kozlov. The thought makes me want to laugh and cry at the same time.

As if sensing my inner turmoil, Ivan's gaze finds mine once more. There's no smirk this time, just that penetrating stare that makes me feel like he can see right through me. I lift my chin, refusing to look away first. Let him see that I'm not intimidated.

But even as I stand my ground, I can't help but wonder - how am I supposed to survive a lifetime with a man who's made it clear he can barely stand the sight of me?

3

IVAN

Istand at the altar, my jaw clenched so tight I can hear my teeth grinding. The church is packed, every pew filled with faces I'd rather not see. My skin crawls with the weight of their stares. Too many eyes. Too many potential threats.

My fingers twitch, aching for the comforting weight of my gun. But today, I've only got two tucked away and only the one in my jacket pocket is easy to get to. Not having at least four firearms on me makes me feel weak. Exposed. Vulnerable in this monkey suit that constricts my movements.

The music swells, and my muscles tense further. I scan the crowd one last time, cataloging exits, mapping escape routes. Old habits die hard.

Then she appears.

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