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They both step toward the door as if there is a chance in hell I’d let them walk away.
“Sit the fuck down, both of you. You’re not going anywhere. I haven’t even made my announcement yet.”
“With the way things are going, I don’t think I want to hear it,” Konstantin seethes. “I’ve waited a long time for this, Ivan. For you to follow through with your commitment. If we’re going to be family, then—”
“Thatis where I’ll stop you, Konstantin. You’re wasting your breath. We will never be family. I won’t marry Katerina.”
Konstantin exhales sharply. “You’ve made your decision then.”
“There was no decision to make. I can’t marry her.”
“Can’t?” he asks. “Or won’t?”
Konstantin is looking at me like he wants to impale me on the wall. Mikhail is searching for an exit. The rat wants to flee, but there is nowhere to go. Not until I release them.IfI release them.
“Can’t,” I repeat. “I can’t marry Katerina—or anyone else, for that matter. It’s too late.”
I extend my arm out, champagne flute held lightly in my hand. I only have to wait a few seconds before delicate fingers slip around the stem.
I revel in their stunned silence.
Cora does, too. I can see her out of the corner of my eye, head held high, shoulders back. She is sheer grace as she presses the glass to her lips and drinks. Just like I told her to.
She tips the champagne back slowly, letting the light reflect off the glistening diamond on her ring finger.
I take her other hand in mine and face my guests. “I’m already married.”
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 downhard. 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 abouther. We had a deal, Ivan.”
“So did we,” Mikhail grits out. His beady eyes are fixed on Cora. “You belong tome.”
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.”
