Page 89 of Blood Oath Christmas
"I wasn't able to get it," I lie smoothly, channeling some of Konstantin's composure. "I only said I had evidence because I wanted to leave. I was being petty after an argument with my husband. You know how it is. Sometimes we say things we don't mean when we're upset."
Agent Cole's eyes narrow. "Mrs. Mikhailov?—”
"I love my husband," I interrupt, and the words ring with absolute truth. "I'm not going anywhere."
For the first time since I've known her, Agent Cole looks genuinely surprised. She studies my face, searching for cracks in my resolve, but she won't find any.
Because this is my choice. Not made out of fear or desperation, but out of love. Out of the knowledge that this dangerous, complicated man is mine, and I am his. That the child growing inside me deserves to know their father, to be part of this family that would burn the world down to protect each other.
"I see," Agent Cole says finally. She straightens, her professional mask sliding back into place. "Well, if either of you remember anything about last night's incident, please don't hesitate to call."
She hands me a business card, which I take politely but have no intention of using.
The agents gather their things and head toward the door. Konstantin follows them, probably to make sure they actually leave the property. I watch him go, admiring the confident way he moves, the authority he carries without even trying.
When he returns a few minutes later, Viktor is with him. The big man looks unusually serious, even for him.
"We need to talk," Viktor says, glancing between Konstantin and me. "Both of you."
Konstantin nods toward his office. "Let's go."
As we walk down the hallway, Konstantin's hand finds mine, his fingers intertwining with mine in a gesture that feels both protective and possessive. The simple touch sends heat racing through my veins, and I'm struck again by how completely this man has claimed me.
We enter his office, the familiar scents of leather and his cologne wrapping around me like an embrace. Viktor closes the door behind us, his expression grave.
But before he can speak, Konstantin turns to me, his green eyes intense and knowing.
"Want to give me that thumb drive now?"
50
KONSTANTIN
The silence stretches between us like a taut wire, ready to snap. Ivy's face has gone pale, her blue eyes wide with something that looks like fear mixed with resignation. She knows I know. The question is whether she'll try to lie to me or finally trust me completely.
Her hands fidget in her lap, and I can see the pulse jumping at her throat. I lean back in my chair, studying her face. Even now, even caught, she's breathtaking. The late morning light streaming through the office windows catches the gold in her blonde hair, and I have to fight the urge to reach across the desk and touch her. Instead, I open the top drawer of my desk and pull out her purse, setting it on the polished wood between us with a soft click.
"I found it in your purse," I say. "The purse I brought back from Vadim's."
Viktor shifts slightly in his position by the door but remains silent. He knows this conversation needs to happen, knows that trust can't be built on half-truths and hidden secrets.
Ivy stares at the thumb drive like it might bite her. "You know what's on it?" she asks, her voice barely above a whisper.
I nod once, keeping my expression neutral even though my heart is pounding. This moment will define everything between us. Either she chooses me, chooses us, or she doesn't.
"Then why not just take it?" The question comes out stronger now, with a hint of the fire I love so much about her. "Why ask me to give it to you?"
I lean forward, resting my forearms on the desk. The dragon tattoo on my throat feels tight as I swallow hard. "Because I need to see you give it up of your own free will, Ivy. I need to know you're choosing me. Choosing this life. Choosing us."
The words hang in the air between us, heavy with meaning. This isn't just about a thumb drive full of evidence. This is about trust. About loyalty. About whether the woman I've fallen completely and irrevocably in love with can accept who I am and what I do.
She stares at me for a long moment, and I can see the war playing out behind her eyes. The good girl who was raised to do the right thing, to follow the law, is battling against the woman who's learned to love a man who exists outside those boundaries.
Finally, she reaches into her purse with trembling fingers. The small device looks even tinier in her palm as she extends it toward me. "Here," she says simply.
The relief that floods through me is so intense it's almost painful. I take the drive from her, our fingers brushing, and the contact sends electricity shooting up my arm. Even now, even in this moment of ultimate trust, she affects me like no other woman ever has.
"Thank you," I say, and I mean it more than she'll ever know. I slip the drive into my jacket pocket, but I don't break eye contact with her. "You have no idea what this means to me."
