Inside, the cabin is polished, leather seats gleaming with mahogany trim. Leo gasps, running in a small circle before Ivy reins him in again. We settle in as the cabin crew prepares for takeoff.
I bide my time, waiting until we are airborne.
Only when the city shrinks beneath us, until the clouds swallow the view, do I rise from my seat and take Ivy’s hand.
“Come.”
She blinks at me, startled. “Where?”
“The back. We need to talk.”
She stiffens but obeys, following me down the narrow aisle into the private bedroom at the rear of the jet. The bed is made, crisp sheets, pillows stacked. A luxury meant for rest, but I did not bring her here for comfort.
“We have to tell him,” I say as soon as the door slips shut behind her.
Her eyes widen. “Now?”
“Yes.”
Her panic sparks like a flint. She backs a step, shaking her head. “Can’t we wait? Just until we get to Russia and get settled.”
My tone leaves no room for argument. “If we wait, he will hear it from someone else. A staff member, one of my men, a careless word. And that will be worse. He deserves the truth—from us. Not whispers, not accidents.”
Her hands twist together. “What if… he rejects you? What if he hates me for not telling him sooner?”
The fear in her voice slices through me. For once, I do not brush it aside.
I pull her into my arms to hold her tightly against my chest. She sags into me, her body slightly shaking from the nerves racking through her system. I don’t blame her for being scared—hell, I am too. But this is something we should’ve done a long time ago. Back when I first re-entered their lives.
Mikhail had derailed a lot of our plans, most of which we’re still in the process of making up.
Including this one.
“He’ll be alright. He already looks at me as a father figure, right?”
She bites her lip, eyes searching mine. “That’s true…”
I squeeze her gently. “Then everything will work out. I have faith.”
Finally, she nods. “Okay. You’re right. Let me go get him.”
When she leaves, the room feels too small. How ironic that I’ve faced enemies with guns to my head and knives held at my throat, yet I’m panicking over telling my own son who he is to me. I have buried men, burned cities, toppled traitors but never once been this terrified.
When Ivy returns with Leo, she pulls the door shut once again.
He glances around the room curiously, his little hand wrapped in hers in a tight hold. As soon as he spots the bed,his entire face falls. “Aw, are you really going to make me nap? Mama, I’m not even tired!”
She turns and squats in front of him, smoothing his hair away from his face. “No, baby. We just wanted to talk to you.”
He blinks. “Am I in trouble?”
“Not at all,” I say.
She stands again and guides him over to the bed, sitting him down on the edge of it before settling next to him. I take up his other side, keeping my arm wrapped loosely around his shoulders. He glances at me, a smile breaking out across his face for a brief moment before turning back to focus on his mother.
“Sweetheart,” she begins carefully, “you remember how you’ve asked about your dad before? And what I told you about him?”
Leo frowns, his small face pinching as he recalls. “You said he was dead.”
