Читать книгу Married By Christmas: His Pregnant Christmas Bride / Carter Bravo's Christmas Bride - Christine Rimmer - Страница 10

Three

“What will we tell my family?”

Ivan looked up from his laptop at her subdued question. Anastasia had been trying to get herself to ask it ever since they’d left Dr. Balducci’s secret medical installation and driven to a private airstrip to board Ivan’s jet.

Until now, all she’d managed had been monosyllabic answers to his constant questions whether she needed anything.

Not that she possibly could. As he’d been doing for the past five weeks, he’d kept anticipating her needs, and far beyond. He’d barely let her feet touch the ground all the way to this luxurious seat in his state-of-the-art jet, barely let her lift a hand. The most she’d gotten away with had been going to the bathroom under her own power and feeding herself.

To escape his persistent focus and care, she’d had to pretend to fall asleep. Even then, she’d felt his gaze on her, no doubt counting her breaths, as usual.

She’d ended up falling asleep for real, and had just awoken a minute ago to find him finally doing something other than watch her. She’d been tempted to leave him engrossed in whatever he was doing. But she’d had to ask that question. They had to be on the same page during the coming ordeal.

It hadn’t even occurred to her that he’d offer to take her home. But she’d still felt his aversion to the task and tried to convince him to let her go back alone. It had only made him more adamant that she was in no condition to deal with the upheaval ahead. Not to mention that only he could navigate the sensitive time until Alex was buried.

Now caught once more in his burning focus, she wished she’d kept silent. He closed the laptop, pushed aside the adjustable table and sat forward in the seat facing hers.

“Now that those responsible for Alex’s murder have paid—”

She had to interrupt, her sluggish heart starting to hammer. “How exactly did they pay?”

His gaze stilled on her face. “You’re sure you want details?”

She hadn’t before. But now she burned for them. “Yes.”

He didn’t answer at once, as if trying to gauge if it was prudent to give her more information that might disturb her.

But he must have seen the steel hardening her nerves, the fire licking through her veins, her need to have vengeance for Alex fueling her, overriding any aversion she might have previously had to learn what he was capable off, what he’d done.

He finally gave a nod of acknowledgment. “Your immediate boss at FuturEn and insiders within the International Energy Organization had been exposed. Not for the crime Alex discovered—that they’d made sure his results would be publicly falsified, discredited and never see application, while bribing all energy competitors with the threat that those results were indeed a breakthrough that could deprive them of a big percentage of the market within years. And not for what they’d done to him—and you—since that will always remain a secret for your protection. I exposed every other crime they’d ever committed, which were many and equally as heinous. They’ll never know who exposed them, but the evidence I made available to the authorities is copious and conclusive. They’ve been arrested and the dates of their expedited trials set. They’ve lost everything and won’t see the outside of a maximum-security prison in this life.”

“That’s all?”

A chilling smile touched his lips as if he recognized and approved of her lust for a harsher punishment. “No. Those who gave the order to end your and Alex’s lives will be locked up with their worst nightmares—those who owe them pain and suffering, and others who’ll contribute imaginative punishments for one price or another. Those men will either meet their demise after protracted abuse or, worse, be deprived of its mercy.”

She closed her eyes, struggling to suppress the vicious satisfaction that charred her blood. She was ferociously glad those monsters would pay, and that their punishment would be long and agonizing, and preferably unending.

It amazed her all over again that she was capable of such ruthlessness, that she would have exacted that punishment herself if she could have. She knew if Ivan hadn’t taken action, she would have done anything to avenge Alex’s death. But relying on the law wouldn’t have done her any good. As a weak adversary with flimsy evidence, she would have gotten nowhere and ultimately would have been forced to resort to reckless measures. Which would have proven as ineffective and probably ended up in disaster for her and for her family, too.

So Ivan had saved her yet again, this time from the consequences of the vengeance she would have done anything to get, but wasn’t equipped to enact. He’d given it to her, full and final, without a price for her or her loved ones.

Gratitude flooded her, along with so many other emotions that she felt she’d burst with it all. Needing an outlet, she reached a shaky hand to cover both of his as they interlaced loosely between his knees.

It was the first time she’d touched him in over seven years. And though it was nothing like that first touch that had changed her forever, that had told her this was the only man she’d ever crave, it was still as potent in its own way. The powerful hands that were capable of so much passion, skill and damage seemed to buzz beneath her trembling touch. His gaze crowded with so much she couldn’t fathom.

She let out all her emotions on a quivering breath. “Thank you.”

The stiffening of his body and face was an admonition, reminding her he’d demanded she never thank him.

“But I need to far more than thank you,” she persisted. “For this. For everything you’ve done. And now for taking me—taking us—home.” She shied away from thinking of Alex’s body in the belly of the plane so she could go on. “Especially when I feel how much you’d rather not.”

Sitting back, he moved his hands out of reach, a startled look coming into his eyes. No doubt he was surprised that she picked up on his reluctance.

He only said, “Alex was my friend, Anastasia.”

The barely checked emotions that radiated from him whenever Alex was mentioned hit her full force again. Was that the reason for his reluctance? He hated that they were taking Alex home in a casket, to bury him? Did he feel, like her, that goodbye would feel real only then? Did it hurt him, too?

If it hurt him a fraction of how it hurt her, then it made sense. And it again rewrote everything she’d thought she’d known for the past seven years.

Ivan’s friendship with Alex had lasted as long as their own relationship had. Exactly ten weeks. At the time, she’d believed the two men had shared a deep connection. Then his desertion had forced her to revise her opinion.

Though their liaisons had been brief, Ivan had left a gaping void in both their lives. Each had mourned his loss, had struggled with their own interpretation of its causes.

Alex had been resigned that someone of Ivan’s caliber would surely not find him worthy of more than a passing acquaintance, that he’d been delusional to think they’d built the foundation of a lifelong friendship. As for herself, she thought she’d been nothing but another notch on his bedpost. Why else would he have simply walked away?

But after everything that had happened in the last weeks, after realizing he’d kept such close tabs on them, she was forced to reconsider everything. It was clear there was far more to this whole thing than she’d thought. Far, far more to Ivan. What, she couldn’t even guess at. And if he never told her, she’d never know.

But for now, she had to tell him what Alex hadn’t had the chance to.

“He was your friend, too, Ivan. He never got over your sudden disappearance from his life, yet always treasured the time he had with you.”

It was agony to talk about Alex in the past tense, as she would from now on. And equally painful to reveal an intensely personal secret of his that only she’d known.

But Ivan had to know it. It was about him, and after all he’d done, she couldn’t withhold it from him.

The next moment she wished she had. That look in his eyes as he met hers was filled with unbearable pain. The same look she’d seen before he’d declared he would deliver her and Alex to their family.

What did it all mean? How did his behavior, past and present, add up? Because it simply didn’t.

Or maybe it did. Maybe he felt bad about the way he’d exited their lives, the remorse compounded by what had happened to them, by what he’d been unable to stop. Maybe he was appeasing his guilt by trying to put right as much as he could of this mess.

Not that it mattered what he felt or why he was doing this. For reasons he kept to himself, Ivan was hell-bent on seeing this tragedy to its resolution.

And though having him so near was like a dull scalpel opening old scars and new wounds, she was more grateful than she could ever express. She couldn’t have survived without him. And once they broke the tragic news to their family, only his presence would get her through their grief.

After an oppressive silence, Ivan made no comment on her revelation and answered her original question. “I advise against taking anyone into your confidence about what happened, no matter how tempted you are. Not now, not ever. I’ve erased all evidence of the crime so I could deal with its perpetrators without repercussions. Any knowledge of it outside of us can someday cause untold trouble. I’ve constructed an airtight scenario to be told to the world, starting with your families, and I need you to always be consistent in telling it.”

She nodded, hit again by how sinister this all was, how much larger than anything she’d ever thought she’d encounter in her life.

His eyes filled with approval of her unquestioning acceptance. Then he went on. “You’ll say neither you nor Alex knew which arm of the government recruited you for the top secret project, that all had gone smoothly, that you were supposed to go home when you were involved in a helicopter crash two weeks ago. The pilot died at once, Alex was gravely injured, while you had the least injuries.”

She gave another nod as she absorbed the details that mixed reality with fiction. “How will I explain your role in all this?”

“You’ll say I’m a previous acquaintance you contacted because I’m Dr. Balducci’s partner, who transported you to his facility. But it was those in charge of your mission who didn’t clear you to contact your family before now. You’ll tell the truth, that Antonio operated on both of you, but could only save you, downplaying your injuries so you could be in this condition after two weeks. Part of the misdirection to the culprits is creating a different time line.”

Her head spun at his scenario, what she’d now have to act out for the rest of her life. Not even their parents or Cathy would ever know the truth about how or why Alex died.

He went on. “That all said, I want you to say as little as possible from now on. To start, let me do the explaining.”

Another surge of gratitude swept through her. “I’d prefer that, too. I doubt anyone will question anything you’ll say.”

“If anyone does, or if any authority investigates, I made sure all threads would lead to various government arms that no one would question. I made sure that each agency would have no way of making sure which one you were working for and would assume you were working for one of the others.”

She shook her head in amazement. “How? How did you do all that?”

“I am in the business of monitoring, controlling and even creating records and information. No one will ever know the truth, and you’ll be forever safe from any fallout.” She swallowed, flabbergasted yet again at another demonstration of his power. He sat forward, enveloping her in the heat of his body and aura. “Apart from all that, I assure you of another thing. Alex will be honored, his research and results will all be published. His legacy, which is substantial, will be applied, will get the recognition and rewards it deserves. His family will be given their full benefit, morally and financially.”

The urge to launch herself at him, bury her face into his endless chest, cling and sob her heart out, almost overpowered her. Her every frailty reached out to absorb all she could of his strength. What he was so unreservedly offering.

Only her depletion and mounting dread of the impending reunion stopped her, made her unable to seek his refuge.

Which was just as well, since his offer of solace and protection didn’t seem to extend to anything physical.

And she had to abide by his rules—this man she’d once loved, who’d injured her in the past and healed her in the present, both with no explanation.

But she didn’t need to understand him to give him his due. It was what Alex would have wanted her to do. “Alex couldn’t have hoped to leave his legacy in the hands of anyone better or more capable than you.”

His eyes darkened again, whether at the mention of Alex’s name or at the implied gratitude in her statement.

Before he could respond, she asked, “How long before we land?”

His turbulent gaze flitted to his phone. “Two hours.”

She lowered her seat back to a flat position, pulled the blanket over her aching body. “I’ll sleep again, then.”

He surged forward, helping her adjust the seat and the covers. “Do that. Rest.”

You’ll need it went unspoken.

* * *

Ivan watched Anastasia sleeping, and knowing this would be the last time he did had bleakness expanding in his chest.

They’d landed an hour ago, but he couldn’t bring himself to interrupt her sleep. As restless as it was, it was still better than what she’d go through when she woke up. This way, he had her beneath his eyes, where he could ward off the world, for as long as possible.

That had been one of the reasons he was escorting her home—to prolong his time with her. As Antonio had said, that was for himself as much as it was for her.

But the main reason he was doing this remained her, and Alex. Antonio had been right. He couldn’t keep her any longer from the people she loved, those who were her lifelong support system. She needed her family, needed to bury her brother, give them all the chance to grieve, to say goodbye.

And he couldn’t stomach letting her take the brunt of her family’s shock alone. He couldn’t bear that Alex would be buried without him being there. His abhorrence to being close to his family had been outweighed by his need to shield her, to honor Alex.

Now he had to rouse her. And they both had to plunge into their own version of a waking nightmare.

* * *

Two hours later, Ivan stood behind Anastasia on the threshold of the home Alex had shared with his wife, Ivan’s sister, and their two children, his niece and nephew.

As they waited for the door to open, he felt Anastasia swaying, as if she was coming apart under the weight of the dread of confronting her best friend. And though it hurt to touch her, his hand clamped her trembling arm, offering her his strength, letting her know he’d step in anytime she needed.

In the next moment, he wondered if it was he who needed support.

The woman who opened the door had an eager smile that, in spite of all the changes twenty-eight years had wrought, was still the same as that of the baby sister he’d known. Her smile immediately froze when she saw Anastasia without Alex, looking desolate, and with him, a stranger, towering over her.

To say the next hour was harrowing would be to say that his time with The Organization hadn’t been too bad.

At first, Anastasia had haltingly introduced him, so she wouldn’t break down on the spot, needing to be strong for her best friend and sister-in-law. Then Katerina’s—Cathy’s—questions had come, the dread mounting until each answer fleshed out the scenario he’d created, validating her worst possible fears.

Then the agony had come. He’d felt every stab of it in his own gut as he watched yet another person he cared about in the throes of absolute anguish. For just seeing his sister in the flesh had brought back the memories of how much he’d loved her, from the moment his mother had told him she was pregnant again. In spite of her maturation from his Russian baby sister into a thoroughly American woman, she was still somehow his little Katerina.

He’d thought nothing could be worse than being ambushed by those kindred feelings he hadn’t thought he could ever feel again, or than suffering shearing empathy for her loss. Until her—and his—parents arrived.

Seeing the man and woman he’d once loved completely, whom he’d idolized, rush to their bereaved daughter’s side, seemingly as overcome, rocked him to his core.

For almost three decades, since he’d discovered what they’d done to him, he’d imagined how he’d feel if he ever saw them again. He’d come up with a thousand scenarios. He’d known he’d hate it, had been determined never to expose himself to it. But he’d thought he’d braced for each possibility, that none could actually hit him too hard.

He’d been wrong.

After their desperate attempts to contain their daughter’s agony, their focus had converged on him. He’d thought he was being too sensitive to their merest glance, but none of those who’d flooded the house, including his other sisters and brother, had looked at him like that.

As if they recognized him.

But of course they couldn’t. Nothing remained of the twelve-year-old they’d bartered away for their freedom but his eye color. And then how would they even suspect a resemblance, when they must have believed him long dead?

A big percentage of the boys culled by The Organization couldn’t endure their brutal training. Of those who did, more than half didn’t last in the field. It was why they were always harvesting more, with their mortality rate so high. And the boy his parents knew, the slight nerd he’d been, wouldn’t have been able to survive the inferno he’d been tossed in. If it hadn’t been for his brothers, he wouldn’t have.

He’d waited for anger to overtake him, but all he felt was desolation. Even now, he couldn’t hate them. The only thing he felt when he looked at them—older, frailer and in their grief, even fragile—was pity.

There was no doubt in his mind they’d loved Alex as a son. Instead of that making him more bitter, it was like a knife of sympathy tearing through his guts.

The ordeal continued into the next day. Everyone, as if responding to his superior powers, let him steer everything. He’d fast-forwarded the process and arranged for the burial, laying Alex’s body to rest, along with the true circumstances of his death.

Now they were back at Alex’s house, and the true grieving had just begun. Alex’s parents and Katerina seemed to be sinking deeper into despair. The only one who’d already gone through the stages of loss was Anastasia, and he felt her pour out her support to everyone who needed her. As he’d feared she would. But there was nothing he could do to stop that, to make her preserve herself, not give too much.

He now stood at the periphery of the jarringly sunny living room watching those who’d loved Alex flocking around his family in an effort to absorb a measure of their distress.

Then the agitation that had been rising and falling in jagged waves since they’d arrived crested again. The three people whose very presence tossed him from one level of turmoil to a higher one were approaching him.

Anastasia, and his parents.

The one who addressed him, puffy-eyed and broken, was his mother. “Mr. Konstantinov, Ana told us everything you’ve done for her and Alex. We—we wanted to thank you, even if there’s nothing we could possibly say to express our gratitude.”

“But we are grateful, beyond expression, on behalf of everyone.” That was his father, looking nothing like the imposing figure he remembered, smaller, weaker, even helpless in his anguish. “Thank you, son.”

He’d once had a bomb shower him with shrapnel, almost tearing his leg right off. The word son from the father who’d given him away tore through him with far more force and pain.

His reaction must have shown, for Anastasia came between them, no doubt mistaking it for his dislike of thank-yous. “Ivan has a big problem with accepting thanks, so if you really want to express your gratitude, don’t.”

“But of course we have to express it,” his mother exclaimed, her eyes, glittering with tears as they fixed on his face, with something that was feverish in its intensity in their depths. A...question? “And if there’s ever anything at all we can do for you, we’d only be too happy and grateful to do it, my dear.”

The sheer kindness and eagerness in her expression, what was reflected in his father’s face as they awaited his response, felt like more stabs to his heart.

He could barely hold back from shouting, All I ever wanted was for you not to abandon me to a life of servitude.

As if feeling his critical condition, Anastasia intervened again. “I bet there’s nothing we mere mortals can ever do for Ivan.” His parents insisted that even the most powerful people had to need something, but she cut across their protests. “I’m sure if this is true, he won’t hesitate to ask. You can count on him to make his wishes known, right, Ivan?”

He found himself nodding, his gaze riveted on her face, mesmerized by what he saw. A glimpse of his old Anastasia, the woman who’d glowed with life and candor, who’d captured him from the first glance.

“But as you know,” she continued, “Ivan has already gone above and beyond and now he needs to go back to the life he’s put on hold for so long to be there for us.”

Clearly torn between disappointment that he’d leave and not wanting to impose on him, both his parents deluged him again with thanks and persistent hopes that he’d return whenever possible. It was all he could do to answer them coherently, then walk, not run, away from them.

His whole being in chaos, he felt Anastasia fall into step with him as he headed to the door. From her wary sidelong glances, it was clear she felt something was not right here, but was at a loss as to what it was and what had provoked it.

Not that he was about to explain. All he wanted now was to bolt as far away as possible from this place. Preferably to the ends of the earth, where he’d never lay eyes on his parents or the rest of his family ever again.

It would also serve Anastasia’s purpose, too. It hadn’t only been to save him from an uncomfortable situation that Anastasia had suggested he go. Clearly she, too, wanted him to leave. After all the time she’d been limited to only his company, she must have had way more than enough of it. Not to mention that he remained the odd man out here, and in this, of all times, she must be eager to be alone with her family.

But how could he just walk away this time, when he never wanted to leave her side again?

There was more to this than being unable to bear the thought of not seeing her again. Though she was out of danger, it was still a long road to complete recovery, physically and, more importantly, emotionally. She was outwardly holding together, being there for her parents, for Katerina, for the rest of the family, but he knew she was crumbling inside. And it wasn’t only the brutal loss of Alex, but her own ordeal. Most probably she’d suffer one degree or another of post-traumatic stress.

But he couldn’t help her himself now. If he stayed around to do so, he’d be too disturbed being in the vicinity of his family to offer her the stability she now needed. The best thing he could do was to make sure she had the best specialists to help her deal with the psychological repercussions. But he could not stay.

As she led him outside, he caught her arm in a gentle grip, stopping her.

The eyes that turned up to his were reddened, the lids swollen, her gaze hesitant and fragile. Yet those eyes were the most beautiful sight he’d ever seen, the most powerful weapon. They tore through his being with more force than bullets had torn through his flesh. For they made him want everything he couldn’t have. They made him weak. They overpowered him when nothing else ever had.

Fighting the overpowering compulsion to crush her to him, feeling as if shards of glass filled his throat, he said, “I know you have your family now, and that you never ask for help, but...I am here for you. Don’t let your independence or any other consideration stop you from letting me know what you need, now or at any time in the future. Promise me that if you need anything, anything at all, you’ll ask me for it.”

Her gaze clung to his, brightening with tears again, her still pale lips quivering in a semblance of a smile. “If I think it’s something you can do, sure.”

“I can and will do anything.”

Her eyes darkened and a faint flush spread over her now sharper cheekbones, seeping into her dainty lips as they opened on a tiny, sharp inhalation. He had no idea how he stopped himself from snatching her into his arms and devouring her.

Then with a nod that encompassed reluctance and acquiescence at once, she accepted his carte blanche.

Though he doubted she’d ever use it. He’d just have to keep watching her, even closer this time, and do a far better job at anticipating her needs and protecting her from the dangers of the world.

Then it was the moment. His role had ended, and his one-time pass back into her life had expired. He had to let go. Until she needed him again. Knowing her, barring another catastrophe, that would be never.

Knowing her loss would be a worse injury than what he’d suffered in the past, knowing he’d never recover from it, he said what he hadn’t the first time he’d walked away.

“Goodbye, Anastasia.”