56
IVAN
The announcement is still settling over the silent room when a chair scrapes away from the table.
It happens quickly. Francia is staring open-mouthed one second; the next, she throws her chair back and sprints at Cora.
Arms flailing, mouth open in a scream, Francia looks like she’s possessed. Maybe she is. It would explain a lot.
I don’t think—I just react. I shift over to block Cora and Francia slams into my chest instead. But it’s like trying to hold a rabid raccoon. She’s so focused on her goal that she barely notices me. She just reaches over my shoulders and keeps clawing, screeching, scratching.
I shove her back, but before I can take a swing, Yasha beats me to it.
My second-in-command grabs Francia by the collar of her little black dress and flings her to the ground. She immediately tries to crawl back up, but he plants a foot in her chest and kicks down hard. Her head bounces off the tile with a nasty crack and she goes limp.
“Damn it,” Yasha mutters to himself. “I hoped that would last a little longer.”
More chairs scrape as Mikhail and Konstantin move closer for a better look.
“She’s breathing,” I tell them. “Not for much longer if she wakes up and runs for Cora again. But for right now, she’s breathing.”
“I don’t care about her,” Konstantin hisses, glaring at Francia’s crumpled body. Then his rage shifts to Cora. “This is about her. We had a deal, Ivan.”
“So did we,” Mikhail grits out. His beady eyes are fixed on Cora. “You belong to me.”
An animal sound I can’t control shudders through my chest. It’s the only response I can manage that doesn’t involve cracking their heads open.
Cora squeezes my hand. “I never belonged to you, Mikhail. I never will.”
Konstantin snorts. “This won’t stand. Katerina has been ruined by her connection to you. No one will marry her now. Not with this trail of drama behind her. She’s useless to me.”
Katerina doesn’t flinch. If anything, she’s probably thrilled. She never wanted to be used by Konstantin.
Lev walks calmly past me and offers a hand to Katerina. When we were up late last night choreographing how this dinner would go, I suggested another man for the job. But Anya wouldn’t hear of it.
“Lev is a gentle giant who saved another Bratva daughter from a terrible fate.” She squeezed her husband’s hand, tears shining in her eyes. “It’s a nice, full-circle moment for him to escort Katerina away from her father, too.”
Katerina must agree, because she takes Lev’s hand without a second thought and starts to follow him out.
“Where are you going?” Konstantin calls after her.
He starts to reach for her, but I block his path. “You said she’s ruined. She’s useless to you, remember? It doesn’t matter where she’s going.”
“That is my daughter!” he cries. “I deserve to know where she is going and who she will be with. I deserve—”
“You deserve to be executed,” I tell him flatly. “You deserve to be made an example of. I suggest you shut your fucking mouth and be grateful I’m offering you a way out.”
His face is red and the vein in his neck is throbbing. “I don’t need you to offer me anything. I’m not surrendering.”
“Then you’ll be obliterated.” I shrug as if I don’t care either way. Truthfully, I don’t. “Cora was always going to be my choice. There is not a single reality in this universe or any other where I end up with anyone else. You can fight me on that and die or you can bow out gracefully and still get a reward.”
Konstantin’s eyes narrow, slicing from me to Cora and back again. “A reward?”
“It’s a mercy, really,” I correct. “Cora is my wife, Katerina goes free, and I offer you a business merger that gives the Sokolov family more power than any marriage ever would have.”
Before Konstantin can respond, Mikhail barks out a laugh. “Why the fuck would we trust you after everything you’ve done? You’ve gone back on your word too many times to count. You’ve broken up two different marriages to stand here with Cordelia and you want me to—”
“Her name,” I bellow, the rage in my chest flaring bright, “is Cora Pushkin.”
Mikhail falters a step. I claim the lost ground, striding closer until I’m towering over him. “And my decision is final. Nothing you say can or will change my mind, except in how I choose to deal with you. Either you graciously accept this handout or you keep talking and I’ll slaughter you here and now.”
“We have soldiers outside.” Mikhail raises his chin, but doesn’t move any closer. “We are ready to fight.”
“So am I. I’ll kill you and command my men to slaughter every last one of your soldiers before your lifeless, useless body even hits the floor.” I turn my focus to Konstantin. As much as I want to end Mikhail, I have other affairs to handle first. “If you aren’t my allies, then you’re a threat. And I won’t let any threat to my wife survive.”
My wife. The title singes the tip of my tongue. It’s a pleasant burn. I plan to repeat it over and over and over again until I’m used to it. Preferably while I’m buried deep inside of her.
“What are the details of this merger?” Konstantin croaks.
Mikhail whips around, eyes blazing. “You can’t be serious, Father! We cannot accept his terms. He’s throwing shit at us and waiting for us to lick it up. We’re not pathetic.”
I smirk. “I beg to differ.”
“Shut up, Mikhail.” Konstantin’s voice echoes off the high ceilings. He looks back at me, and one look into those beady, calculating eyes is all I need to see to know that he gets the picture here. That he takes this deal sight unseen or he gets crushed beneath my boot. “I accept your terms.”
“No!” Mikhail is shaking. “We don’t accept. I don’t accept. What about me? That bitch was promised to me!”
He jabs an accusing finger in Cora’s direction. I don’t hesitate—I grip it and twist, not stopping even when I hear the crack of splintering bone.
Mikhail drops to his knees, his screams echoing off the tile.
I lean down and whisper in his ear. “Talk about my wife like that again and next time, that will be your neck cracking.”
Konstantin grabs his quivering son by the arm and hauls him up. “There won’t be a next time. We’re leaving.”
I could say a lot of bad things about Konstantin Sokolov, but at least he knows when he’s in over his head.
The old man is trying to wrestle his son towards the door when he loses his hold on him. Mikhail has been an obedient little dog for years. Now, he’s off the leash.
“We aren’t leaving anywhere.” His top lip is curled and his teeth are bared. “I’m not walking away with my tail between my legs. Not after everything I’ve been through to get her. Cordelia fucking St. Clair, you are nothing.”
“Mikhail!” Konstantin grabs for his shirt, but Mikhail pulls away.
“You think you are better than everyone else. But you are nothing but a powerless little whore who needs to be put in her place. You are—”
I stopped hearing Mikhail the moment he started speaking. It doesn’t matter what he’s saying. He’s insulting my wife and that’s more than enough reason for me to knock his head off his shoulders.
His face is the only thing I can see in my narrowed field of vision. My fist is hurtling toward it—when, suddenly, he's gone.
I blink and look down. Mikhail is sprawled on the floor a few feet from Francia, his arms and legs limp.
It takes me a second to realize what happened. Glancing to my side, I see Yasha grinning and shaking out his knuckles. “Two for two,” he brags.
"You beat me to him," I realize, blinking out of my daze.
He's cheesing from ear-to-ear. "Sorry, brother. Hate to steal your thunder. But you already got to hit the son of a bitch once. I've been dying for my turn."
“I wasn’t going to hit him; I was going to kill him.”
“Don’t.” Konstantin stands over his son, his eyes pleading. “Please. Let me deal with my boy. I’ll get him out of here. Don’t kill him.”
Suddenly, Cora’s hand loops through my arm. She doesn’t say a word, but her touch is enough.
She’s okay.
We survived.
We’re here.
“Don’t let him near me,” I growl. “Keep your son away from me and my family. This is the last time I show you any mercy. Do you understand what I’m telling you?”
Konstantin lowers his head in a grim nod. Then he drags his son’s unconscious body out of my dining room.