by Olivia Gates
The truth that destroyed everything.
He covered her face in kisses, his tremors transmitting to her heart in shock waves of despair. “Moya dorogoya, moya dusha, I’m here. You’re okay.”
Unable to look at him anymore, she averted her gaze and nodded. “Sorry for the scare. One moment I was upright, the next everything just went dark. I’m fine now.”
His fingers, gentle, persistent, caressed her cheek, tried to turn her eyes back to him. “This is my fault. I taxed you.” He bit off a vicious self-imprecation. “I shouldn’t have made love to you, let alone repeatedly long and hard. I’m an animal.”
The shard of agony embedded in her heart twisted deeper, forcing her to look at him. She couldn’t bear him feeling guilty over her, when it was on her account that her mother had consigned him to a horrific fate. She owed him a debt that could never be repaid.
“You didn’t tax me, Ivan, and you know it.” Before he could take her in his arms again, she rose to a sitting position so he had to pull back. “But everything is catching up with me and I do feel tired. I can’t see myself doing much for a while. I—I think we should postpone the wedding.”
Expecting him to argue, he again floored her by the extent of his consideration, agreeing at once. “Whatever you wish. If the wedding is part of what’s putting stress on you, we can always gather everyone right here, exchange vows and send them on their way.”
She was desperate to stop his pampering. If she didn’t make a stand she’d find herself married to him within the hour.
She shook her head. “I just need a postponement. I hope nobody will be too upset.”
His eyes filled with indulgence. “Everyone can cool their heels until you’re feeling up to it. Don’t worry about anything but feeling stronger, moya dusha. The world can stand still or even go away completely until then for all I care.”
Feeling it would hurt less if she were the one to go away, forever, she pretended to nod and fall asleep again.
Knowing he wouldn’t leave, she turned her face away from his vigilance, unable to stop the silent tears from pouring out of her soul.
* * *
It had been three days since Anastasia had fainted.
After he’d had Antonio and Isabella examine her again, and again, to reassure him she’d bounce back given time, Ivan had gathered everyone the very next morning, Christmas Day, what should have been their wedding day, and announced the postponement of their wedding.
She’d spent half that day in bed, and the other half curled in an armchair, barely saying or doing anything. The next day everyone had gone back to their homes.
Anastasia had asked to go home, too. Her parents’ home. Feeling more worried and confused by the second, but wanting to give her whatever she wished for, he’d taken her there. He’d been trying to placate himself that early pregnancy, the revelations, the days among such an overwhelming crowd, had proven too strenuous for her. But every time he went to her, it became clearer, until he could no longer lie to himself.
It now pained her to see him.
But he’d been unable to ask why. He was terrified she’d tell him she was having second thoughts.
It was unimaginable, but the only reason he could think of anymore. That now she realized it was going to be real, and she’d tie herself to him for life, through marriage and through a child, his reality had finally sunk in, and she was horrified about what she’d let herself in for.
But three days in a hell of dread and uncertainty had proved his limit. Though knowing for certain would finish him, he couldn’t let her evade him any longer.
He’d just arrived at her parents’ home and again they weren’t there. The maid had opened the door for him, telling him Anastasia had just gone up to her room.
In a matter of seconds he was knocking on her door. He’d heard her moving inside, and he had a distinctive knock, so she knew it was him. The prolonged silence that answered his knock screamed with her reluctance to let him in, to see him again.
This was it, then.
Whatever it did to him, he couldn’t force himself on her. If she didn’t want him anymore, if it hurt her that much to see him, he had to leave her alone.
He’d cross that threshold for the last time. When he left, he’d have no more reason to go on living.
At long last, she opened the door, and any lingering hope that he’d been wrong was incinerated under the inescapable proof of her desolation. She looked as finished as he felt.
His heart about to ram out of his rib cage with the need to take her in his arms, to beg her not to recede, not to shut him out of her heart, he met her bloodshot, swollen eyes.
“Why?” At his butchered groan, she said nothing, her breathing becoming strident. He broke down then, begged, “Is there anything I can do to make you love me again?”
She staggered back as if he’d hit her.
Surging forward to abort her stumble, he grabbed her arm, but she jerked it back as if he’d electrified her.
His arms fell limply to his side, crippled by a defeat he hadn’t even felt when he’d been young and helpless and at the nonexistent mercy of the monsters who’d imprisoned him.
Breath emptied from his chest, for what felt like the last time. “I guess I was always waiting for this, for you to come to your senses.”
Shaking, starting to sob, she fell to the bed. Dropping her head in her trembling hands, she rocked to and fro, moaning as if her soul was bleeding out of her.
He kneeled in front of her before he collapsed, his own soul escaping him with the tears he’d never shed since he was a child except on her account.
“Don’t, Anastasia, don’t do this to yourself. Don’t feel sorry for me, or feel bad because you gave me hope or made me a promise. I beg you. Don’t languish in bed, don’t lock yourself from the world to escape your life altogether because I’m in it. I left you once when I thought I’d only bring you danger and anxiety and misery. I’ll leave again, because I only want you to be happy and at peace. I just came to tell you this. That I’ll always be there for you, and for our child, in any way you let me. But if it hurts you this much to see me, you don’t have to see me ever again.”
Her weeping escalated with her inability to draw full breaths anymore. Unable to bear her anguish, he exploded up to his feet and stumbled towards the door.
His shaking hand was on the doorknob when Anastasia’s words hit him like a bullet between the shoulder blades.
“I’ll tell you why. I owe you that. When you know, it will be you who won’t ever want to see me again.”
* * *
Anastasia watched Ivan turning around, hating her very existence even more for the destruction and defeat marring his face and slumping his body. Desecrating his soul. She’d done this to him.
Before she lost all ability to speak, she told him everything. The atrocious, crippling truth.
All through the account she tore out of the depths of her desperation and shame, he remained leaning against the wall as if he’d been riveted there, staring at her as if he couldn’t understand a word she said.
By the time she reached the most relevant part, she felt she’d never stop weeping again. “I l-loved my mother until I learned of the heinous crime she’d committed against you. Now I h-hate her...want her punished. I need you to promise me you will punish her. I need you to punish me. I can’t live knowing my life has been bought at the expense of yours.”
Ivan continued to stare at her. And stare at her.
Then he finally pushed himself away from the wall, came closer with such care, as if she was holding a knife to her own throat and he was afraid she’d slit it if he moved any faster.
His voice was so hushed it was almost inaudible as he rasped, “Do you mean you still love me?”
“God, Ivan, is this the on
ly thing you got out of everything I told you?”
“It’s the only thing of any importance.”
“No, God, no, you’re not doing this. You’re not brushing this aside. You’re not refusing to avenge yourself again.”
“You know I never wanted that. I forgave my parents even before I knew they had no hand in what happened to me.”
“They’re your parents. It’s up to you to forgive them. But she’s my mother, and you don’t get to forgive her. I don’t. Do you hear me? I will never forgive her. I’m leaving this house tomorrow and I’m never coming back.”
He was kneeling before her again, his eyes clearing of the ravages of the tears that had made her want to inflict some serious damage on herself, his lips curving into that intimate smile that stirred her insides into mush. “Of course you’re leaving this house. You’ll be in our home, and you’re coming back here only for visits.”
“No, Ivan, you’re not smiling!”
His smile only widened. “I actually want to laugh out loud and do a backflip. It’s only out of respect for your still raging wrath on my behalf that I’m being so restrained.”
He was blithely dismissing this catastrophic discovery that had shattered the very pillars of her existence.
Her crushing misery morphed into exasperation making her hiss, “This is deadly serious, Ivan.”
“And I’m as deadly serious when I say I’ve never been this relieved. I thought I lost you and my world was ending and then you tell me this, and I’m like, ‘Really? That’s it? That’s what she almost gave us both heart attacks over?’”
At her chagrined screech, he took both her hands, pressed kisses on them before pressing them to his heart, his gaze becoming pure persuasion. “I swear on the most precious things in my life—you and our coming child—that I really, really couldn’t care less what your mother did. I’m not the child who went to The Organization, or the young man who escaped it, or even the man I was until I came back for you months ago. I’m now the new me, the one who loves you, the man you own. And this man has no place in his memory except for every single second since he met you, and every single second in our future together. This man is endlessly grateful that his life path—the horrific parts included—led him to you and made him into the man you love. This man cares about absolutely nothing else, as long as you love him.”
His every word was a jolt supercharging her heart with a surplus of love for him that she felt she’d burst with it.
Struggling to contain it all, her hands fisted on his chest, her whole body shaking. “You can’t still love me when I and my own have been the curse of your existence!”
He shook his head. “The only times I felt I was cursed was when I thought I’d lose you. And during the past three days when I thought I already had.”
Feeling her head would explode with the need to get him angry, she started to protest again, but he surged, sealed her lips with his, letting her taste his life and love, his relief and delight. But it was tasting his smile that made her pull back, her blood seething.
“Ivan, you can’t. I can’t let you forgive. You must exact vengeance, carve out pounds of flesh, preferably from me.”
He only hauled her into his arms and laid her back on the bed, enveloping her in a full body hug. “I’m taking all hundred and forty pounds of your precious, libido-igniting flesh.” His eyes filled with teasing, and a trace of lingering insecurity. “That is, if you love me.”
She drummed her feet on the bed in frustration. “If? It’s because my whole being is ninety percent made of loving you that I’m losing my mind here.”
He threw his head back and laughed, before squeezing her hard. “See this? This is exactly why I’m not only not angry with your mother I’m even glad she did what she did. It didn’t only mean saving everyone, it meant saving you. Saving you so you’d grow up into this irreplaceable creature, so I can one day find you, and love you for the rest of my life.”
Stymied beyond expression or endurance, she started weeping again. “Ivan, oh, God, Ivan, you’re too much...and I love you too much, it hurts. It’s excruciating when I think—”
“Then don’t think. Or think only of this. That if I’d known the real price of my family’s salvation, and yours, I would have paid it willingly then. I would do anything at all for you now. And knowing that, do you think I’ll do nothing while you feel this horribly? Do you think I can rest while you break your own heart, and hate your mother to avenge me?”
“But I can’t just forget, Ivan. I can’t forgive her.”
“But I want you to. Your mother did a terrible thing, at terrible times, and she’s been punishing herself, eaten by guilt ever since. She has made up in every way possible for my family, and for yours. And she not only lost Alex, she feels it’s her fault. That is far more punishment that any mother should have to endure, no matter her crimes. Have mercy, moya dusha. Forgive her here...” He pressed his open palm to her heart, making her sob and burrow into his hardness and heat. “Pity her. And most of all, love her again. I need you to. I don’t want any anger or disappointment or bitterness to eat at the magnificent light and beauty inside you.”
Her tears stopped. There was such a thing as being moved beyond tears.
His smile became crooked. “I am being partially selfish here, since I’m the primary beneficiary of your light and beauty, the one who has the most to gain from it in the form of endless pleasure and fathomless love.”
She rose to look down on him, everything inside her capitulating. Loving him beyond endurance, she whispered, “You miracle of a man who loves me beyond my wildest imaginings no matter what. You avenging angel who will avenge anyone but yourself. Will you take me as your wife, Ivan? Will you let me have and hold you, love and cherish you, support and defend you, lose my mind over you and give my very soul to you, so that not even death will us part?”
He held her eyes in utmost solemnity. “I do.”
Before she could kiss him, he beat her to it. In seconds he had her arching beneath him, begging for his invasion. But he pulled back, poignancy and teasing a heady mixture in his eyes. “So when will you officially make an honest man out of me?”
And she did something an hour ago she’d thought she’d never do again. She giggled.
He really was a miracle. And a miracle worker.
Raining kisses on every part of him she could reach, she said, “As soon as you can get your scattered troops to regroup.”
As if he’d been coiled and waiting to launch into action, he sprang up, got out his phone, started barking orders for everyone to fall back into formation.
Half an hour later, he looked down at her in triumph. “As per your command, moya dusha, tomorrow you become Dr. Anastasia Konstantinov.”
Pulling him down over her, loving him fiercely, endlessly, she sighed into his lips. “Tomorrow, and forever.”
Before he claimed her, took them both back from the brush with devastation to their exclusive heaven, he pledged, “At least that long.”
Epilogue
“Forgive yourself, Grace.”
At his words, Anastasia’s mother turned to Ivan with a gasp.
She’d been subdued all through the wedding ceremony, and now during the reception she’d walked into a corner as if she wanted to disappear. Everyone thought her state was recurrent desolation over Alex’s loss, and Ivan and Anastasia let everyone believe that. The secret of what she’d done would never get outside the four who knew it.
“I forgive you,” he said. “And I do thank you for saving my family, for saving yours. But mostly for saving Anastasia. I would have forgiven you had you cost me all my limbs for this alone.” As the woman’s eyes filled, he persisted. “And I also want you to believe that Alex’s death wasn’t punishment for you, or else fate must have seen fit to punish me and everyone who l
oved him, too, since his death hurt us all irrevocably.”
As her tears fell, he reached for her arm, gave it a gentle squeeze. And she crumpled against him, too weak to do anything but accept his absolution, letting him take her in his embrace.
He pressed a kiss to her forehead, this woman who’d once been a second mother to him, the mother of the love of his life, the reason for everything he was and did.
“People in sweeping upheavals and grave dangers make terrible decisions. But whatever your sins against me, just that you’ve saved Anastasia, so I could find her so many years later, love her, live for her, evens the scales and way more. Anastasia loves you. It’s why she was so hurt. But I promise I’ll do everything to heal her so she will open up to you again. It’s what Alex would have wanted. For us all to be happy, to honor his memory. And in his memory, there will be no more losses and injuries. Never on my account, or on my watch.”
A choking sound made him turn around. And there she was, Anastasia, his bride, looking far better than his wildest fantasies. She was his reward from fate, with every blessing the world had to offer in her eyes.
They’d exchanged vows an hour ago, were now husband and wife. One. At last and forever.
He extended a hand to her, and she took it at once, let him reel her in so she faced her mother.
He pressed a cherishing kiss against her flushed cheek, murmured his love and encouragement. Returning the kiss, her eyes filling with that gratitude he’d yet to make her stop feeling, she turned to her mother.
“We’ll be all right, Mom. Thanks to Ivan.”
The woman reached out a hand, asking Anastasia’s permission for intimacy. His palm caressed Anastasia’s back, urging her to take her mother’s hand. As soon as she did, the woman pulled her into a brief, though fervent hug.
Then, as if she didn’t want to push her luck further, with tears running down her face, Grace turned and rushed away.
After watching her mother’s departure, Anastasia turned to Ivan, face brightening, eyes igniting.