Page 84 of Blood Oath Christmas
The question catches me off guard. I expected anger, demands, maybe even accusations about corrupting his innocent daughter. Not this quiet, desperate need for reassurance.
"Yes," I say simply, because it's the truth. Despite everything—the danger, the violence, the complete upheaval of her quiet life—Ivy is happy. She's found her place in my world, in my arms, in my heart.
At least I hope that’s true.
Then why did she leave without a word?
I shut that thought down immediately.
"Good," he breathes, and I see his shoulders relax slightly. "That's all I ever wanted for her."
The rest of the drive passes in tense silence, each of us lost in our own thoughts. I keep one hand on Ivy's hip, feeling the steady rise and fall of her breathing, while the other rests on the gun at my waist. Even with our security detail, even knowing we eliminated the immediate threat, I won't relax until we're behind the walls of my estate.
When we finally pull through the gates, I'm already planning. Ivy will need time to process seeing her father, to understand why he faked his death and stayed away all these years. She'll have questions, probably anger, definitely confusion. And through it all, I'll be there to anchor her, to remind her that whatever happened in the past, she's mine now. She's safe.
Viktor parks in the circular drive, and I'm moving before the engine fully stops. Ivy stirs slightly as I lift her from the car, her eyelashes fluttering but not quite opening. Andrei follows us up the front steps and into the house, his footsteps echoing in the marble foyer.
"Sir?" Anya appears at the top of the stairs, her face creased with worry. "Is she hurt?"
"She fainted," I call back, taking the steps two at a time. "Have the doc on standby, just in case."
Our bedroom is dim and quiet, the heavy curtains drawn against the afternoon sun. I lay Ivy gently on our bed, smoothing her hair back from her face as Andrei hovers in the doorway, clearly uncertain whether he's welcome.
"Ivy," I murmur, cupping her cheek with my palm. Her skin is warmer now, some color returning to her features. "Come on, little bird. Wake up for me."
Her eyelashes flutter again, and this time her eyes open slowly, unfocused and confused. She blinks several times, her gaze moving around the room until it lands on me. I see the moment awareness returns, the way her body tenses as memory floods back.
Then her eyes shift past me to where Andrei stands, and her breath catches.
"Easy," I say quickly, my thumb stroking across her cheekbone. "Just relax. We'll explain everything, but I need you to stay calm. I don't want you fainting again."
Ivy struggles to sit up, and I help her, keeping one arm around her shoulders for support. But instead of the confusion or fear I expected, her expression shifts to something else entirely. Something that looks suspiciously like anger.
"I didn't faint because of shock," she growls, her blue eyes flashing with irritation as she glares at me. "I fainted because I'm pregnant, you idiot."
47
IVY
Idon't understand why I blurted out that I’m pregnant with such force, especially when my ‘risen from the dead’ father is standing nearby. Apparently, my mind couldn't handle that revelation and jumped on any excuse to deflect. The pregnancy announcement hangs in the air like a live grenade, and I immediately want to take it back.
Konstantin's green eyes widen, his mouth dropping slightly open. The powerful Mafia boss who never loses control looks completely stunned, and for a moment, I see the man beneath the façade. Heat floods my cheeks as I realize what I've just admitted, but before he can say anything, I whip my head toward my father.
"You're alive. How?" I have to clear my throat to continue, my voice coming out as barely more than a whisper.
My father who I mourned for eleven years moves with the same quiet grace I remember from my childhood. He grabs a chair from the corner and pulls it closer to the bed. His face, older now with lines around his eyes and silver threading through his dark hair, carries the weight of years I thought he was gone.
"Maybe you should rest before we talk, little star," he says, using the pet name that makes my heart clench. His voice is exactly as I remember it, deep and warm with that slight Russian accent he never quite lost.
"No." The word comes out sharper than I intend, but I'm done with secrets and lies. "I won't have it. I want answers, and I want them now."
Konstantin shifts beside me, and I can feel the heat radiating from his body. Even in this impossible situation, my traitorous body responds to his presence. The way he's looking at me, so protective, possessive, and now with something else I can't quite identify, makes my pulse quicken.
My father sighs, running a hand through his hair in a gesture so familiar it makes my chest tight. "I was Mafia, Ivy. High up in the organization. When your mother found out…" He pauses, his jaw clenching. "Trisha was livid. She'd had a bad experience with a Mafia family when she was a teenager and held a grudge ever since."
The pieces start clicking together in my mind. Mom's strange reactions whenever anything Russian came up on the news. Her insistence that I stay away from "those people" at Otrava, even though she never explained why. The way she'd get that haunted look in her eyes sometimes.
"But once you're in the Mafia, especially as high up as I was, you can't justquit," my father continues, his voice heavy with regret. "One night, when you were just a baby, a rival soldier came to the house. He kidnapped you."
