Page 120 of Inked in Devotion

Irina and Ivan exchanged looks. And she picked up one of his clenched fists and interlaced his fingers with hers. Their love was clearly a mature love that had gone through the death of a child and the shadow of a perceived infidelity. But through it all, and even if it pained me to say it, it was clear they adored each other.

“It wasn’t about Renée,” Ivan said. “It was more about you, Chloe. I would never have gotten over Roman’s death, and I might have destroyed the bratva. In a way, you helped me channel my grief into love. Many couples’ relationships don’t survive the death of a child. And no, you shouldn’t feel guilt for my mistakes.”

“I’m not feeling shame anymore,” I said. “Sebastian has taught me so much. His existence brought us danger and scandal, but I don’t feel an ounce of resentment. Only love. He is innocent. I never believed that for myself. I always thought I was a stain on other people’s happiness, like Theo, Esther, and Jeremiah. That they had the right to hate me. Even you, Irina. I’ve occupied Ivan’s time.”

“I don’t think blame is the right term,” Irina said. “You’re right about resentment, though. The idea that another woman and child were the ones who healed my husband when I couldn’t. But over the years and with much therapy, I understood that what we experienced was a complicated tragedy. Ivan blaming Kirill for Roman’s death. Kirill being my son, but Roman is not. We couldn’t grieve the same.” Tears tracked down her cheeks. She produced a handkerchief to dab at the corners of her eyes. “Do you understand what I’m saying?”

I nodded, my own tears falling. I reached for the tissue dispenser, set it on the coffee table between us, and snatched a few pieces out for myself.

“Ivan couldn’t look at Kirill and not think of Roman’s death, and I couldn’t forgive Ivan for blaming our son and for sending him to Russia in a bitter winter to suffer. I froze Ivan out, and he was alone in his grief.”

“We both were, solnyshko.” Ivan’s eyes were glazed with tears, and his face was red.

This was an unexpected unloading. I could have stopped it, but it was a long time coming. I was just sad Renée wasn’t around to hear it. My chest was heavy with an emotion akin to grief, but maybe it was also what closure felt like.

“Even when I loved Roman as my own, it’s still not the same.” Irina hiccuped. “I could still go to Russia and see Kirill. I left Ivan here with no one. I knew Duncan had asked him to look after Renée. At that time, I didn’t care. I was even relieved. I couldn’t comfort him because I was so angry at him.”

“Mourning and coping are different for everyone,” I said.

“We let it go on so long. Years. Then Ivan wanted to try again. That was when I gave him an ultimatum. I knew he was still looking after Renée. I did not think about the consequences to you. I just wanted my husband back.”

I gave an incredulous laugh. “And you have every right to demand it.” I inhaled a deep breath and then cleared my lungs again in order to expunge the complicated emotion that had congealed like concrete inside of me. “So, yes, I will go to the dinner tonight.” I cast a look between them. “Thank you for reaching out.”

Irina stood up abruptly. “Oh my God, there is much to prepare.” She rounded the coffee table. She dried her eyes. “Thank you, Chloe.”

“Thank you for telling me this.”

Irina leaned in, and we both exchanged quick hugs.

But when it was Ivan’s turn, I wasn’t as in control of my emotions as I thought. The second my eyes collided with the tenderness in his, the dam inside me ruptured.

“Ivan.” His name caught in my throat, and he dragged me into a bear hug. I sobbed.

“I miss you, Chloshinka,” he said gruffly. I may only remember glimpses of him in my memories. But my heart remembered the longing and heartache I had harbored for a long time. All these weeks culminated in this moment of closure.

When we pulled apart, he was also crying. Irina was quietly sniffling beside us.

“You can visit Sebastian whenever you want,” I said.

His smile softened his fierce face. “I would love that.”

After they left, I sat back behind my desk and stared at the screensaver on my laptop. Melancholy occupied a chamber of my heart that Renée didn’t get this closure. I was still coming to terms with it myself. I knew I had to face Irina and Ivan at some point, and I’d been willing to delay all the way to the wedding. Kolya never pushed me, although he told me he was fond of Ivan, but he thought Irina was too good for him.

Lev, one of my bratva security, appeared with a vase of black roses. Flowers didn’t seem to be Kolya’s style, although I could see him go the grim reaper route. I’d been making fun of his all-black attire recently; maybe this was his attempt at humor.

“These have been scanned,” he said.

“Thanks, Lev.” The shelter was still on high alert, especially since Marena was still missing. As suspected, her background had been fabricated, and she didn’t appear in the yearbook of the high school she mentioned in her bio. Since she infiltrated my life with controlled substances, Kolya was having every piece of mail or delivery to me scanned.

I opened the card that came with the flowers, and a picture fell out.

And my world tilted on its axis.

“Why are there no updates on Marena’s whereabouts?” I demanded when Kolya entered the house. Without answering, he approached me stealthily and gave me a quick kiss on the lips before turning to Sebastian and kissing the top of his head.

I’d been learning how to deal with Kolya. Nothing except imminent death was an emergency to him. When he came home smelling of sterile soap, I imagined he’d had a bloody day or, worse, killed someone. We didn’t talk about it. It was his job. A job that was at the forefront of my consideration whether I would agree to marrying a man who killed people for a living.

Yes, I wasn’t sugarcoating it.