His Pregnant Christmas Bride. Оливия Гейтс
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her eyes.
Ivan made no response, probably thinking she was talking in her sleep. But she felt him move closer, until he was standing over her.
She finally forced her eyes open and was once again overwhelmed by his sheer beauty and physical presence.
He’d always been the most incredible man she’d ever seen. The exact combination that had appealed to her every taste and enslaved her every sense. In the short time she’d known him, she hadn’t been able to tear her eyes and thoughts off of him. Not to mention her hands, lips and every inch of her. No man had ever compared to him, before or since; she’d given up before she’d even tried.
But the thirty-three-year-old juggernaut she’d once known had been nothing compared to the forty-year-old god he’d become.
Everything about him had been...magnified, intensified, until it choked her up just looking at him, just feeling him near. Any softness she hadn’t even realized he’d had had been chiseled away. What remained looked as if it had been carved from polished steel, perfect and impenetrable.
If she didn’t feel like one raw, exposed nerve, she knew she would have found him even more attractive for it. But how could she possibly be more attracted to him now than she had been in the past? From that first glance, when her brother introduced him as a new friend and another expatriate from their motherland, Russia, she’d been helplessly drawn to him like iron filings were to a magnet.
“Anastasia, are you awake?”
It seemed he wasn’t sure, even with her eyes open and locked on his. She must have sleep-talked too many times.
She answered him by pressing the bed’s remote, bringing herself up to a reclining position. “Avoiding my questions, giving me no details or explanations, is only making it worse.”
When she’d thought nothing could make the devastation of losing Alex so violently any worse.
Her brother, her mentor and champion and closest friend, was gone. Murdered. That she’d survived was irrelevant. Unfair. If one of them had to die, it should have been her. Alex was far more important, in so many ways, to so many more people.
But not knowing why or who had been responsible for this heinous crime ate away at her sanity.
Ivan had only told her that he’d snatched her and Alex from the scene before law enforcement or emergency services had arrived, had provided them with lightning-fast medical stabilization while transporting them to his partner, Antonio Balducci, the only doctor he could trust with their lives.
She’d known Ivan and his partners in Black Castle Enterprises were extremely rich and powerful, but this level of reach and resources was mind-boggling. Ivan had been able to intervene faster than the authorities, who clearly hadn’t even been alerted, since nobody had come investigating the attack. While this state-of-the-art hospital that far surpassed any medical facility she’d ever heard about was off-the-map. That something of that caliber was unknown to the world spoke of unimaginable power.
But though Dr. Balducci’s fame had reached even her in the nonmedical world, as a genius trauma surgeon whose work bordered on magic, he’d managed to save only her.
Dr. Balducci had told her Ivan’s intervention had given them a shot at surviving when nothing else could have. But only she had been in any condition to do so, even with his unequaled skills. There had been no saving Alex.
And she still didn’t understand why. Any of it. The attack, Ivan’s reappearance, anything he’d done ever since. Each time she inquired, Ivan merely insisted she wasn’t strong enough yet to worry about anything but recuperating. He wouldn’t tell her a thing.
He’d been the only man she’d ever loved, and he’d streaked in and out of her life like a meteor, leaving only wreckage in his wake. For him to be back in her life in such an explosive, inexplicable way had at first paralyzed her ability to think. Now speculation and confusion were driving her insane.
“Just tell me everything. Please.”
His solicitous gaze became a stormy sea-green in the warmly lit hospital suite, as he clearly struggled with his reluctance to do so. Then his massive chest finally expanded on a resigned inhalation.
“I only wanted you to recuperate without having to deal with distressing details. I also wanted to...resolve the situation before I told you everything.” He lowered his head for a moment before he looked up at her again. “I’m sorry if I inadvertently added to your anguish. That was the last thing I wanted to do.”
Had he also thought he’d been sparing her when he’d left her seven years ago? Had he been trying not to “add to her anguish” by leaving without a word or warning?
Now that she thought about it, probably. He’d always felt somewhat...detached from the rest of humanity. Now he seemed to be wholly so. He probably had no insight into how he made others feel, how his actions impacted them. It stood to reason he didn’t realize that he’d almost destroyed her by his sudden and unexplained desertion in the past—and was as equally clueless how his actions affected her now.
Not that she could be bitter about his actions this time. He had saved her. Had been dedicated to her physical well-being. He was merely oblivious to the rest of her needs, emotional and psychological. Like he’d always been.
Raising the bed to a fully sitting position, she vaguely noted that the surgical wound across her abdomen where Dr. Balducci had put her back together barely pulled. It now caused her minimum discomfort, even with reduced pain medication.
“I’m sorry, too, Ivan. The last thing I want is to seem ungrateful after everything you’ve been doing for me. I’m more grateful than I can say. But I not only can handle the full truth now, I need it. Nothing could be worse than what already happened, and the only way I can deal with it is to make sense of it all.”
That seemed to flabbergast him. She’d been right. He’d never even considered this could be how she’d be feeling.
When he finally nodded, his hands fisted at his sides. Hands that had once owned her body in total intimacy. But that had been in another life. In this new realm, he hadn’t once touched her since he’d squeezed her hand as he’d told her of Alex’s death.
“I’ll tell you everything you want to know,” he said, looking like he’d rather take a bullet himself than do so. “But I need you to promise something first.” She nodded, wary at the flare in his eyes. “Never apologize for anything. Or feel grateful. Never to me.”
It really seemed to offend him, even pain him, that she’d expressed her regret and gratitude.
Would she ever understand the enigma that was Ivan Konstantinov?
No. It didn’t matter that she never would. This wasn’t about him, or about them. This was about Alex. She had to know why he’d been murdered, how she could avenge him.
Once he had her conceding nod, he exhaled forcibly. “You were attacked because of Alex’s discoveries and intentions.”
Ivan waited a beat, no doubt to see her response. She had none.
He grimaced. “I know about the top-secret, alternative energy project Alex was helming for FuturEn in conjunction with the multinational International Energy Organization, and that you were taking part as one of his top physicists. No need to pretend you don’t know what I’m talking about.”
She shook her head dazedly. “I’m not pretending anything.” He looked as if he’d cut her off, but she hurried to add, “It doesn’t surprise me that you know this. Now that I have a better idea of the extent of your power, it would surprise me if you didn’t know everything about everyone who’s ever crossed your path. What I don’t understand is why Alex would be targeted for assassination for his work. It isn’t as if he’s the first person to ever make a breakthrough in such a field.”
“You really don’t know, do you?” When she shook her head, his teeth made a terrible grinding sound. He clearly