Ivory Ashes

Chapter 2 Episode 2

The door is right in front of me. It’s unlocked. I could run.

I’m in a nightgown that barely covers my ass and my father is right down the hall. He’ll never let me escape.

I know all too well what happens when I poke that bear. Daddy doesn’t like when his pawns talk back.

So I just stand here, stranded between one nightmare and the next. I press myself against the wall and watch Mikhail pummel his older brother into the floor.

Trofim doesn’t stand a chance. He can hold his own against a woman half his size, sure, but he can’t keep up with the speed of Mikhail’s punches.

Blood and spit and broken teeth fly as Trofim’s neck snaps one way and then the other.

Mikhail is going to win. He’s going to overpower Trofim, and then…

Before I can sort through the stew of terrible options in front of me, Mikhail wraps his hand around his brother’s throat and drives a knee into his chest. He pins him to the floor.

“Stop fighting if you want to live,” he growls.

It isn’t much of a choice. Trofim is panting, exhausted from just that little bit of fighting. He couldn’t throw Mikhail off if he wanted to. And he really, really wants to.

“What?” he pants. “You want her? f*****g take her, then.”

I shrink back against the wall, but Mikhail doesn’t look at me. Instead, he snatches Trofim’s hand off the floor. The two thrash around for just a moment before Mikhail gets whatever he’s after and lets his brother’s wrist flop back down.

“Leave.” He stands back, power rippling off of him like a forcefield. Goosebumps bloom across my chest. “You so much as set foot on the same continent as me ever again, you’re dead.”

Trofim works his jaw back and forth. “Exile.”

“It’s a better option than death. Take it.”

I think he might lunge at Mikhail again. Argue.

Instead, Trofim stands up, wipes blood from his split bottom lip, and stomps out of the room without even looking at me.

I don’t move. Don’t breathe. Everything is happening so fast and I don’t have time to think about where it leaves me…

Until Mikhail turns to me.

Whatever he’s feeling, it’s still elusive. But slowly, he lifts his hand and slides something onto his finger.

The gaudy ring that cracked across my face less than ten minutes ago settles on his right hand like it’s always been there. Like it belongs.

I look from the family signet ring to its new owner.

The Novikov Bratva just got a new heir. And his sights are set on me.

“What are you still doing here?” Mikhail asks.

The words of my savior, everyone.

The words of the socially illiterate, everyone.

I’m usually much more eloquent, but word vomit must be a nasty side effect of cranial and/or emotional whiplash.

Not to mention, Mikhail is handsome. Stunningly, stomach-twistingly handsome.

It’s the reason I walked over to him at my engagement party in the first place. Sure, I was there to marry his brother, but being betrothed didn’t make me blind. Mikhail was leaning against the wall with a diamond-cut jaw and a curl of golden brown hair that fell perfectly across his forehead. I wanted to see what he was about. Could the inside possibly match the outside?

I thought the answer was a definite no, but now… He saved me. Does that change things?

Now, I’m seeing him up close and in better lighting. Does that change things?

The same strand of hair sweeps slightly lower over one of his cold blue eyes now. Eyes that are wholly fixed on me.

I shake my head to clear away the lusty cobwebs. “Well, not naked,” I correct quickly. “I’m almost naked. Barely clothed. I’m in pajamas.”

Mikhail looks pointedly at the skewed scrap of lace covering my lady bits and little else. “You wore that for him?” Mikhail’s upper lip curls in disgust. It’s the first easily-readable emotion I’ve seen on him.

“I didn’t wear anything for him. It’s for me.” I cross my arms over my chest, which only serves to put my cleavage even more on display. I quickly uncross them. “I think it’s pretty.”

Trofim may have been a monster, but he had great taste in lingerie. Well, really, whatever poor maid he got to order me the present had great taste, is more like it.

Silk triangles cover my breasts, but the rest of the nightie is intricate lace. It flutters over my midsection and brushes against the very tops of my thighs. If I turned around, Mikhail would get an eyeful of the matching silk thong.

I press my bare ass more firmly against the wallpaper so that doesn’t happen.

“You should leave while you still can.”

I frown. “I didn’t realize my salvation came with an expiration date.”

Mikhail roots through the mini-bar fridge, grumbling when there’s nothing but champagne inside. He pops the bottle and crunches over the remains of a shattered vase and haphazardly spread rose petals to find a glass.

The fact that we’re in what would have been mine and Trofim’s honeymoon suite tomorrow night is becoming hard to ignore.

For me, at least. Mikhail still won’t look at me.

“Why are you here?” I demand.

His throat bobs as he swallows down champagne before pouring himself another glass. “Were you not listening? I already explained myself. My brother was unfit.”

Unfit to lead and to marry Viviana. I’m about to hand over the last of my dignity to ask which one he’s referring to now.

Instead, I nod. “He was. But he was unfit yesterday. Last week. Six months ago. Why did you decide to finally do something about it tonight?”

I didn’t ask the question with an answer in mind, but I suddenly find myself hoping Mikhail will turn and look at me. I let myself imagine his icy blue eyes burning with passion… for me.

You, Viviana. Since the moment we met, I’ve wanted you. I couldn’t stand it for another second.

Or, y’know… something along those lines.

Mikhail does turn to me, but there’s nothing but an icy chill when he looks at me. His eyes scrape over my skin. I swear he can read every thought bouncing around my funhouse of a brain.

It’s confirmed when he tilts his head to the side. “Do you think I’m here for you?”

“Wha—No!” I cross my arms again. Mikhail’s eyes drop to my chest.

I don’t uncross my arms this time.

He takes a step closer. “This has nothing to do with you, Viviana.”

Heat coils low in my belly at the way he says my name. “Why should I believe that? I’m the woman promised to the heir of the Novikov Bratva.” I gesture to the ring on his finger. “That’s you now, isn’t it? Some people would argue we still have a binding agreement.”

My father would be among the loudest of those people.

I, however, should probably have shut my big, dumb mouth. In a flash, Mikhail crosses the distance between us and cages me in.

His palm is flat against the wall next to my head. He holds his body stubbornly away from mine, but he might as well be smothering me. I feel him everywhere. Heat pours off of him and tingles across my skin.

He smells like mint and champagne as he dips his chin and whispers in my ear. “Do you want me to make good on that agreement, Viviana? Is that why you’re still here?”

Truth be told, I don’t know why I’m still here.

I wrote Mikhail Novikov off the first night we met. I assumed he was a pompous asshole and never thought of him again, no matter how much I enjoyed the sight of him at functions Trofim dragged me along to.

No women dared get close to him. Mikhail didn’t deign to talk to anyone else. He was a shadow on the edge of the room.

But now, he’s revealing himself to be something else entirely.

I want to find out what.

“I’m still here because…” I duck under his arm and walk across the suite. “I’m still here because helping clean up some of this mess is the least I can do for the man who saved me.”

I bend over and scoop a handful of glass shards into my palm. It’s only when I turn around to find the trash can that I remember what I’m wearing. Or what I’m not wearing. Full coverage underwear, for one.

Mikhail is standing rigid against the wall. And he isn’t the only one. There’s a noticeable bulge at the front of his pants. A large, noticeable bulge.

My gaze drops down, back up, down again, and finally back up to the dark holes where his eyes once were. His pupils are blown wide.

Mikhail Novikov may be difficult to read, but I know desire when I see it.

He blinks a few times and seems to snap himself out of it. His mouth twists down into a scowl. “Me being here has nothing to do with saving you.”

“Really? You had me fooled. ‘Touch her again and I’ll kill you,’” I say in a terrible impression of his voice. “Seems like it had at least a little to do with saving me.”