His Pregnant Christmas Bride

She nodded weakly, accepting his vow and admitting her need for his protection, then lowered her aching, trembling body back to a supine position.

“I know you don’t want thanks, Ivan, but you have mine. I’d do anything to repay you.” His growl started to interrupt her but she closed her eyes, aborting his exasperation. Before she let exhaustion drag her into nothingness again, she whispered one last thing. “Let me know when you decide it’s safe to contact our families.”

* * *

Ivan watched Anastasia’s breathing even out until it was the imperceptible movements that had at first sent him berserk, thinking it was a sign of deterioration.

But he’d been finding other things to compromise his sanity—her gemlike azure eyes, which had turned muddy, her peaches-and-cream complexion and even her long, thousand-hues golden hair that had become ashen, and her body, which had lost its lush curves and looked more fragile by the day.

But Antonio had kept assuring him she was getting better, and he’d been by her side day and night making sure she continued to do so, watching for every sliver of improvement.

Now the last words she’d said before she’d slipped back into oblivion reverberated in his head.

Our families.

She’d meant her and Alex’s families: their parents, Alex’s wife and children, and his in-laws, who were like a second family to both of them.

She couldn’t know one of those families was his, too.

Keeping that fact a secret, keeping away from that family, had been one of the two reasons he’d forced himself to walk away from her and Alex years ago. Though he’d told her a lot today, that was one revelation he was keeping to himself. As it was, what he’d revealed of the tragedy had hit her hard enough.

But she’d made him tell her. And soon the need to keep their families in the dark would be over and her family’s grief would only add to hers.

Dealing with the scum responsible for Alex’s murder had been the easy part of this disaster. The hard part—and what kept getting harder—was dealing with everything that concerned Anastasia. His dread for her. His inability to give her her life back, with her body intact and her brother alive. And the expectation that he’d soon have to relinquish her again.

But the hardest thing of all was her very nearness.

When he’d deprived himself of it seven years ago, he’d thought he’d eventually become numb to the loss. It had taken one look into her eyes, in those nightmarish moments when he’d thought he’d been too late to save her, to prove how wrong he had been.

He hadn’t been numb; he’d been shut down completely. It had been the only way to continue functioning. The injury of her loss, what he’d inflicted on himself, agonized and hardened him like none of the ordeals of his hellish past had. And that had been when she’d been alive and well. In the time he’d thought she might die, too, he’d known he wouldn’t survive losing her for real.

But he hadn’t lost her. Antonio had saved her.

At first he’d hidden Alex’s fate from her, and the details of what he’d done, in order to hide his true nature. Anastasia and Alex had known him as Ivan Konstantinov, not Wildcard, The Organization’s lethal mercenary with a body count that neither of them could have thought existed except in fictional tales or real-life stories of monsters.

But she’d insisted on seeing Alex until he had to tell her the truth. Watching her almost disintegrate with grief, he’d been grateful he hadn’t told her she’d only survived because of the liver transplant she’d gotten from Alex.

As it had turned out, he should have told her, not about the transplant, but about the rest. Now that she was privy to everything, she was letting him deal with everything as he saw fit. He should have trusted her then to make the rational decision. After all, the Anastasia he knew never let emotions interfere with pragmatic priorities.

When he’d walked away, she’d only tried to contact him once. When he’d made no response, she’d gone on with her life as if those magical weeks they’d shared hadn’t happened.

At first, instead of being relieved that his desertion hadn’t hurt her, that she’d decided to just move on, he’d hated it, had felt such contrary bitterness that had made him even more ruthless and cynical.

But he’d still been unable to stop watching her and Alex obsessively. And as time had gone by and she’d been too busy with her scientific studies and research career to move on, he’d felt perverse pleasure that she hadn’t replaced him. Even if she had, he still would have helped her. And he had, opening doors for her and Alex that would have remained closed otherwise. Their success had been deserved, but even in the world of science, it wasn’t always merit that saw someone get their dues. He’d seen to it that they did.

It had remained a struggle to keep away even when he’d believed her better off without him. He lived in fear his past would catch up with him and he’d place her and Alex in danger. That had been the main reason he’d walked away.

It was such tragic irony that when fatal danger had targeted her and Alex, it had had nothing to do with him.

His phone buzzed in his pocket. Getting it out before the noise could wake her, he read the message he’d been waiting for. Fyodor, his right hand, affirming his latest move had been carried out.

Alex’s murderers had been neutralized.

There was no reason to put off contacting Anastasia’s and Alex’s families anymore.

Not that his reluctance had anything to do with caring what they would suffer once they knew the truth. If not for them being Alex’s family, if it wasn’t for them continuing to impact Anastasia’s life, he wouldn’t have considered them at all.

After all, they were the people who’d sent him to hell.

Two

“Don’t discharge her.”

Ivan blocked Antonio’s path in the deserted corridor, intercepting him on the way to Anastasia’s room.

His best friend’s turbid eyes clashed with his unwaveringly, in their depths things Ivan had never seen before. Not even during their worst days as The Organization’s captives and mercenaries.

Antonio had always been their brotherhood’s most sangfroid member, at times seeming inhuman in his ability to deal with any level of hardship or abuse with a level head and a cool smile. Even as his closest friend from childhood, who’d seen deeper into him than anyone else ever had, he’d never thought Antonio could feel like this, let alone be unable to hide it. Despondent, desperate, even a little unhinged.

But then what had seemed impossible had happened. Antonio had fallen in love. Violently, irrevocably. And Liliana, the woman who’d created a heart inside him to worship her with—in his friend’s own words—had discovered the truth. That he’d started their relationship as a plot to infiltrate their joint family, to destroy them from within. Liliana now believed he’d never loved her, had only proposed as means to an end. Devastated at the discovery, she’d run away from his efforts to explain...and she’d almost been fatally injured in doing so. After spiraling through ten different kinds of hell as he’d operated on her, too, he’d saved her life. But clearly, not her love. Liliana’s rejection seemed final.

Now Antonio, the surgeon with nerves of steel, was a total mess. Which could actually work to Ivan’s advantage right now.

The old Antonio, whose emotions never played a role in his actions and decisions, would have turned down his demand, since there was no medical merit to it. But Antonio the emotional volcano might sympathize with his plight and do what Ivan wanted.

And what he wanted was to postpone Anastasia rejoining the world, and her family.

Shaking his head, Antonio said, “I have already kept her longer than necessary, to be on the safest side possible. There’s now no medical reason not to let her go back to her life.”

A shiver ran down Ivan’s spine. Antonio’s voice now was the scariest thing he’d ever heard. Such barely contained instability from the most controlled being he’d ever known.

He only hoped dragging Antonio into his own concerns would distract him from dwelling on his regrets and the loss of the woman who’d become his only reason for living.

“Listen, Tonio, I’m eternally grateful for what you’ve done for...Anastasia.” It was still hard to say her name, even to Antonio. He hadn’t told him a thing about her until she’d realized her surgeon didn’t even know her name and provided him with it. “I’m thankful that she has healed enough for you to think she should be discharged—” He grabbed Antonio’s arm when he turned away. “But I’m still demanding you don’t do it.”

Irritation flickered in Antonio’s eyes at Ivan’s detainment. “And you’re not going to give me a reason for your demand?”

Ivan’s fingers dug harder into Antonio’s steel arm in frustration. “My asking it should be reason enough for you.”

Antonio finally took exception to Ivan’s effort to coerce him, prying his hand off his arm with equal vehemence. “It was when you were asking me to help her. I didn’t need to know anything then. I was willing to wait forever for you to tell me why she and her brother were shot or who they are to you. But now you’re asking me to lie to her, to keep her here against her will.”

“Who says it would be against her will?”

“She does. She wants to leave.”

“She wants no such thing. And she certainly said nothing to you. I was there every second you were with her.”

A ghost of the teasing they’d always engaged in from childhood came into Antonio’s gaze. “Yeah, that you were. But I let you sit in during my checkups only as a courtesy to you as my best friend, against my professional and better judgment.” Any hint of that indulgence vanished, and he started moving past him. “So don’t push your luck, Ivan.”

Ivan grabbed both his arms this time. He wasn’t letting him walk away. “I’m pushing more than that, Tonio. You might think she’s ready to leave based on her physical condition, but I know what’s best for her.”

Antonio gave the hands digging into his flesh a disdainful look. “It’s clear your need to keep her here is blinding you to her needs. But I feel her need to leave.”

“You might be an unequaled genius, Tonio, but not even you are omniscient. Hell, you didn’t even suspect what your own lover would feel if she knew the truth.”

The moment the words were out, Ivan could have happily cut off his own tongue. The surge of self-loathing that came into Antonio’s eyes would remain one of his stupidest, cruelest mistakes.

Ivan dropped his hands to his side, exhaled heavily. “I didn’t mean it the way it sounded.”

Antonio waved his qualification away. “I did know how she’d feel and that’s why I hid the truth. That was my mistake.”

“I’m not making one. She needs to stay here longer.”

“If you think so, then you’re having a serious judgment malfunction. She may not have asked to be discharged, but I sense she can’t wait to bolt from here.” Before Ivan could flay him with another contradiction, Antonio folded his arms over his white-coated chest. “Let me remind you that your specialty is ending lives, not saving them like me. Including yours, many times as I recall. So I’m the expert here.”

“Not where Anastasia is concerned.”

“Actually, in her case, your verdict is even more suspect, since you’re clearly what I thought was impossible—emotionally involved. Even if it’s in a way I can’t fathom. It makes you even more ineligible to make decisions on her behalf.”

Ivan felt his frustration rising to a suffocating level as his friend’s eyes emptied of all agitation and became ice-cold blue.

Great. In his attempt at taking Antonio’s mind off his estranged lover, he’d only brought out the immovable surgeon in him. To his own detriment.

He exhaled, pissed off at himself, at Antonio and all of existence. “Is this your roundabout way of forcing me to tell you about my involvement with her? You think you’ve found the best leverage to satisfy your curiosity?”

Antonio gave a disgusted shrug. “Right now I couldn’t care less if the whole world, including you, disappeared, ended or even went to hell. But the one thing still functioning about me is my surgeon side.” Yeah, like Ivan had just thought. “Professionally, I am obliged to tell her she’s well enough to go. After that, she can choose to stay longer, or you convince her to stay. But I will tell her the truth. I won’t let you hold her hostage to your own ends and convictions.” Ivan started to protest, but Antonio raised a hand in a gesture of finality. “Either you give me a good enough reason not to discharge her, Ivan, or get out of my way.”

So this was it. The only way Antonio would budge now was if Ivan played his last card. Much as he hated it, he had to tell him everything.

“Fine, I’ll give you the reason.” Feeling as if he was about to jump off a cliff, he inhaled a bolstering breath. “Got something stronger than coffee around here?”

Antonio turned away and started walking back toward his office. “I have medical-grade alcohol.”

He fell into step with him. “Yeah, I forgot for a second there that you don’t drink.”

“Even if I did, I wouldn’t keep my vices around my place of work.”

“Yeah, well, for me to finally tell you what happened in my life before we met, we’ll probably both need something.”

“I have intravenous morphine.” Antonio walked through his door, left Ivan to close it behind them. “Though I probably need sodium pentothal if I want anything approaching the truth. The maximum dose, for an elephant. You’re the most drug-resistant ogre I’ve ever encountered.”

Ivan threw himself on the black leather couch while Antonio sat in his preferred armchair. “Still harping on when you wasted three times the dosage of anesthetic to put me under when you had to pull the shrapnel out of my thigh? I’d told you to do it with me awake. You’re the one who wouldn’t listen.”

“I’ll listen now.” Antonio leaned forward and reached for the carafe on the table, poured one cup of black coffee. Ivan knew it was for him when Antonio added three spoons of sugar, as he knew he took it.

Grumbling that it was a poor substitute for Scotch, he took the cup from Antonio, at once taking a gulp, letting its contents scorch his throat.

Antonio sat back, leveled his gaze on him dispassionately. “So are you going to talk, or are you again going to be the elusive son of a bitch who never told even me anything about your past?”

Ivan snorted. “As if you were any better. You found out everything about your family and kept it to yourself, hatched this moronic vengeance plot that is now costing you the love of your life. If you’d told me, I would have probably saved you from making that catastrophic mistake.”

“Yeah, sure. You would have saved me from myself.”

“As I recall, I did, on a few notable, potentially fatal, incidents.”

Antonio’s frown took on a defensive edge. “I didn’t want to share specifics until I felt I had something worthwhile to share. Besides, it’s different. I didn’t spend the last thirty years hiding the truth about my past from you. I didn’t know anything about it until recently. But you came to The Organization old enough to know everything about yours.”

“Touché.” Ivan’s grunt acknowledged the inequality of their positions. He’d always felt Antonio didn’t like that he kept him, of all people, in the dark. But he’d never pushed.

He was pushing now. And maybe it was just as well. Maybe he needed to purge the poison bottled up in his system. And who better to help him do it but his best friend and the world’s leading healer?

When he didn’t start talking at once, Antonio started to rise. “Seems you do need a shot of sodium pentothal to help loosen that calcified tongue of yours.”

Ivan barked a mirthless laugh at his friend’s threat and gestured for him to settle down. “I’ll talk without a truth serum. But when I do, you’ll end up doing what I demanded. So maybe you should just save yourself listening to the heap of crap that is my life story and just do as I say.”

Antonio sat back, waving nonchalantly. “What’s new? I’ve been taking your crap since I was eleven. Talk already. But whatever you say, there’s no guarantee it’ll change my mind.”

“Oh, it will.”

“No guarantee.”

“All right, fine. Here goes, then.” At Antonio’s encouraging nod, he felt he got a glimpse of his oldest and closest friend again. It made it easier to start. “I was born Konstantin Ivanovich in Russia before the collapse of the Soviet Union.” He paused as understanding flared in Antonio’s eyes. Every member of their brotherhood had explained why he’d adopted his current name, except Ivan. “Yes, that’s why I chose my name. Very predictable.” He inhaled, went on. “During the upheaval leading to the collapse, my father found himself in a dangerous position. He’d inherited his job as a bookkeeper in Russia’s organized crime and he needed out—out of the mob, and of the country. There was one great opportunity where he could take our family to the United States, and it all depended on me.

“I was only twelve, but I had long been recognized as a prodigy of computer programming. My abilities had meant a lot to my father’s bosses. But he said there was this international organization offering children of exceptional abilities a unique opportunity to grow their skills to unprecedented levels, in return for developing the next level of technologies. If I joined them, they would use their influence to send my family to the United States.

“Everything was concluded quickly, and I was proud and eager to go in return for a safe and free life for all of us. My parents assured me I’d join them once I finished my two-year stint with The Organization and they’d established new identities. I soon realized that would never come to pass.”

Like all the boys The Organization took, he’d realized after the first hellish weeks that he was a slave they had no intention of letting go, one they’d turn into a mercenary and lethal weapon.

At first he’d refused to be of any use to them no matter how much they tortured him, hoping they’d let him go. They’d only been too glad to escalate their abuse.

He exchanged a look with Antonio, filled with all the memories of their similar ordeals. “At one point I felt my mind and spirit breaking. I contemplated ending my life...and then you approached me.”

Antonio had been a year younger, had introduced himself as Bones, as they’d been forbidden to use anything but the code names The Organization had given them. Antonio had already been selected for medicine because of his aptitudes—he’d been there since he was four. His friend had imparted on him the wisdom of his years with The Organization, convincing him to play along, so he’d become valued and be given privileges.

Then Antonio had offered him a lifeline. He’d asked him to join the brotherhood he belonged to. It was a group of boys selected and led by Numair, The Organization’s top recruit, the older boy who’d been only known as Phantom then. Their secret brotherhood had become seven members when a year later their youngest member, Rafael, or Numbers, had joined them. The other three had been Raiden, or Lightning, Jakob, or Brainiac...and Cypher. None of them knew what he called himself now.

But when they’d been together, he’d taken their same vow: to become as skilled and knowledgeable as possible, so they’d one day escape, become powerful and wealthy enough to rule their own empires and bring down The Organization.

But meanwhile, they’d been The Organization’s slaves and mercenaries, hired out to the highest bidder to execute any level of atrocities that no one else could: assassinations, sabotages, even starting revolutions, coups and wars.

It had taken over fifteen years to enact their escape plan. After they’d disappeared to build new personas, they’d surfaced to take the business world by storm and built Black Castle Enterprises, each presiding over his own segment of the global empire. Ivan ruled the cyber development world in ways that made his rivals call him Ivan the Terrible.

After they’d become established, and had begun untraceably dismantling The Organization, most of his Black Castle brothers had made finding their families or heritage a priority. Since most had come to The Organization too young to remember much, tracing their roots had been a lifelong endeavor. Ivan, though, knew his family and his brothers and had been certain that with his cyber reach, it would be the easiest thing in the world to find them once again.

But to his brothers’ surprise he’d elected not to contact them. And he’d never told anyone, even Antonio, why.

He told him now. “I never told you this, but joining the brotherhood, and having your friendship, was what saved my sanity. Saved my life. You gave me a reason to live after my family’s desertion made me want to give up.”

A sharp breath expanded Antonio’s chest. “You think...?”

“I know. The people I would have gladly laid my life down for, traded my life for theirs.”

Antonio’s eyes filled with the empathy of the profound connection they’d shared from that first day. “That’s even worse than what my family did to me.”

Antonio’s aristocratic Italian family had thrown him away at birth, discarding their daughter’s illegitimate child from a nobody. The Organization had taken him from the orphanage he’d ended up in. It seemed he considered abandoning a newborn to an unknown fate a lesser crime than giving up a grown son to a definitely hellish one.

Ivan exhaled. “Not that I can’t excuse my parents. We could have all been killed, or worse, and I was their only bargaining chip. They were forced to make a choice between two evils. Sacrificing me was the lesser one. But knowing that rationally and accepting it emotionally was—is—worlds apart.”

“Of course it is. If anyone should exact vengeance, it’s you.” Antonio sat forward, his frown ominous. “I want in on it.”

Ivan waved away Antonio’s aggression. “I don’t want vengeance. Never did. All I wanted was to come to terms. I placed them under surveillance, learned everything about them since they abandoned me. The Organization followed through and set them up in the States with new identities. They’ve since changed those twice more. They’ve managed to completely hide from the Russian mafia, the former soviets and their benefactors at The Organization.”

“But no one can hide from you,” Antonio said, an edge of vicious satisfaction and pride in his voice.

That was indeed Ivan’s specialty. He’d always hunted down the most elusive of quarries.

He nodded. “Since then their lives have been running smoothly and uneventfully. My three younger sisters and brother, who came to America very young, integrated totally. They have successful careers and stable personal lives. My parents, now John and Glenda Evans, have lives that are as respectable, comfortable and secure. It’s as if I never existed to any of them. I live trying to forget them, too.”

“You shouldn’t.” Antonio shredded the words through gritted teeth. “For parents to toss their firstborn to the sharks, to live a prosperous life at the price of his life... No, Ivan, this shouldn’t go unpunished.”

He shook his head. “But it will, Tonio. I don’t have the thirst for retribution like you did.”

Antonio’s fists bunched as he visibly struggled to bring his outrage under control. “Let me know if you change your mind.”

Ivan nodded, his throat tightening at his best friend’s solidarity.

Antonio sat back, the gears of his formidable mind clearly changing. “But what does all this have to do with Anastasia and her brother?”

Ivan sipped his cooling coffee before putting his cup down, buying himself time to rein in the memories of his family and the devastation of their betrayal.

“They come in seven years ago,” he finally said. “After five years out of The Organization’s prison, with only you and our brothers as my sole human connections, I’d resigned myself I’d never have anyone outside of you. Then one day, during the first conference I sponsored, I met a blast from my past. A man I recognized at once as my pre-Organization childhood best friend.