Page 65 of Blood Oath Christmas

"Oh, yes, definitely. Doesn't she, Katya?" She turns to another woman, who nods enthusiastically.

"Absolutely. You look radiant, dear. Marriage to a good man will do that."

I glance up at Konstantin, who's deep in conversation with Viktor about something that looks serious. A good man. Surely, they know who he is, a Mafia boss?

But then I remember how gentle his hands were on my face earlier, how vulnerable he looked when he almost told me why losing me would destroy him. Maybe good and bad aren't as simple as I thought.

The rich food is starting to make me feel slightly queasy, and I excuse myself to get some air on the terrace. The cold December night is a relief against my flushed skin, and I take several deep breaths, trying to settle my churning stomach.

"There you are."

I turn to find Konstantin approaching, concern creasing his brow. "Are you alright? You looked pale."

"Just needed some air. The food is rich, and I'm not used to…" I gesture vaguely at the opulence surrounding us.

He moves to stand beside me at the railing, close enough that our arms brush. "You'll get used to it."

"Will I?" I look out at the city lights twinkling below us. "Sometimes, I feel like I'm playing dress-up in someone else's life."

"This is your life now, Ivy." His voice is quiet, serious. "Our life."

The possessiveness in those words should annoy me, but instead, they make something warm unfurl in my chest. Our life. When did I start wanting that to be true?

"What if I can't do this?" The admission slips out before I can stop it. "What if I can't be what you need me to be?"

He turns to face me fully, his hands coming up to frame my face. "You already are everything I need."

The sincerity in his voice, the way he's looking at me like I'm something precious and rare, makes my heart skip. For a moment, I let myself imagine what it would be like to truly belong here, to be part of this family not because I have to be, but because I want to be.

The thought terrifies and thrills me in equal measure.

"We should go back inside," I whisper, but I don't move away from his touch.

"In a moment." His thumb traces my cheekbone, and I see the familiar heat building in his eyes. "I've barely had you to myself all evening."

"Konstantin…" I start to protest, but the words die when he leans closer, his lips brushing against my temple.

"I know you're still angry with me," he murmurs against my skin. "But I'm not sorry for protecting you. I'll never be sorry for that."

Before I can respond, the terrace door opens behind us. "Konstantin, there you are!"

We spring apart, and I turn to see Viktor approaching with an expression I can't read.

"What is it?" Konstantin's voice is sharp, all business.

"We have… unexpected guests."

Something cold settles in my stomach at Viktor's tone. Konstantin's hand finds my back again, but this time his touch is tense, protective.

"Who?"

"Ivan Bocharov. And his daughter."

I feel Konstantin's entire body go rigid beside me. Even I know that name—Mila's father, the head of another family. The woman who expected to marry Konstantin.

"They're here now?" Konstantin's voice is deadly calm.

"In the main room. Mila asked specifically to see your wife."