Married By Christmas. Оливия Гейтс

so if you really want to express your gratitude, don’t.”

      “But of course we have to express it,” his mother exclaimed, her eyes, glittering with tears as they fixed on his face, with something that was feverish in its intensity in their depths. A...question? “And if there’s ever anything at all we can do for you, we’d only be too happy and grateful to do it, my dear.”

      The sheer kindness and eagerness in her expression, what was reflected in his father’s face as they awaited his response, felt like more stabs to his heart.

      He could barely hold back from shouting, All I ever wanted was for you not to abandon me to a life of servitude.

      As if feeling his critical condition, Anastasia intervened again. “I bet there’s nothing we mere mortals can ever do for Ivan.” His parents insisted that even the most powerful people had to need something, but she cut across their protests. “I’m sure if this is true, he won’t hesitate to ask. You can count on him to make his wishes known, right, Ivan?”

      He found himself nodding, his gaze riveted on her face, mesmerized by what he saw. A glimpse of his old Anastasia, the woman who’d glowed with life and candor, who’d captured him from the first glance.

      “But as you know,” she continued, “Ivan has already gone above and beyond and now he needs to go back to the life he’s put on hold for so long to be there for us.”

      Clearly torn between disappointment that he’d leave and not wanting to impose on him, both his parents deluged him again with thanks and persistent hopes that he’d return whenever possible. It was all he could do to answer them coherently, then walk, not run, away from them.

      His whole being in chaos, he felt Anastasia fall into step with him as he headed to the door. From her wary sidelong glances, it was clear she felt something was not right here, but was at a loss as to what it was and what had provoked it.

      Not that he was about to explain. All he wanted now was to bolt as far away as possible from this place. Preferably to the ends of the earth, where he’d never lay eyes on his parents or the rest of his family ever again.

      It would also serve Anastasia’s purpose, too. It hadn’t only been to save him from an uncomfortable situation that Anastasia had suggested he go. Clearly she, too, wanted him to leave. After all the time she’d been limited to only his company, she must have had way more than enough of it. Not to mention that he remained the odd man out here, and in this, of all times, she must be eager to be alone with her family.

      But how could he just walk away this time, when he never wanted to leave her side again?

      There was more to this than being unable to bear the thought of not seeing her again. Though she was out of danger, it was still a long road to complete recovery, physically and, more importantly, emotionally. She was outwardly holding together, being there for her parents, for Katerina, for the rest of the family, but he knew she was crumbling inside. And it wasn’t only the brutal loss of Alex, but her own ordeal. Most probably she’d suffer one degree or another of post-traumatic stress.

      But he couldn’t help her himself now. If he stayed around to do so, he’d be too disturbed being in the vicinity of his family to offer her the stability she now needed. The best thing he could do was to make sure she had the best specialists to help her deal with the psychological repercussions. But he could not stay.

      As she led him outside, he caught her arm in a gentle grip, stopping her.

      The eyes that turned up to his were reddened, the lids swollen, her gaze hesitant and fragile. Yet those eyes were the most beautiful sight he’d ever seen, the most powerful weapon. They tore through his being with more force than bullets had torn through his flesh. For they made him want everything he couldn’t have. They made him weak. They overpowered him when nothing else ever had.

      Fighting the overpowering compulsion to crush her to him, feeling as if shards of glass filled his throat, he said, “I know you have your family now, and that you never ask for help, but...I am here for you. Don’t let your independence or any other consideration stop you from letting me know what you need, now or at any time in the future. Promise me that if you need anything, anything at all, you’ll ask me for it.”

      Her gaze clung to his, brightening with tears again, her still pale lips quivering in a semblance of a smile. “If I think it’s something you can do, sure.”

      “I can and will do anything.”

      Her eyes darkened and a faint flush spread over her now sharper cheekbones, seeping into her dainty lips as they opened on a tiny, sharp inhalation. He had no idea how he stopped himself from snatching her into his arms and devouring her.

      Then with a nod that encompassed reluctance and acquiescence at once, she accepted his carte blanche.

      Though he doubted she’d ever use it. He’d just have to keep watching her, even closer this time, and do a far better job at anticipating her needs and protecting her from the dangers of the world.

      Then it was the moment. His role had ended, and his one-time pass back into her life had expired. He had to let go. Until she needed him again. Knowing her, barring another catastrophe, that would be never.

      Knowing her loss would be a worse injury than what he’d suffered in the past, knowing he’d never recover from it, he said what he hadn’t the first time he’d walked away.

      “Goodbye, Anastasia.”

       Four

      But I can’t say goodbye. Not again.

      The words kept reverberating in Anastasia’s mind. Long after Ivan had brushed past her and walked to the limo that awaited him in the driveway. Long after it disappeared down the street.

      And though the protest had exploded in her head when he’d said goodbye, out loud she’d said nothing. As if not saying goodbye herself wouldn’t make his real.

      Instead, she’d just watched him go, willing him to turn, to say something else that wouldn’t make this final. Some promise he’d be back later, to at least check up on her. That this time he wouldn’t disappear from her life completely. That he’d leave the door ajar. Leaving it up to her to approach him, and only with a need, slammed it shut, this time forever.

      Because she’d never ask anything of him.

      But he hadn’t turned, not to qualify his goodbye, not even to give her one last look. She’d watched his limo until it turned the corner, still feverishly hoping that the man who hadn’t let her out of his sight for five weeks wouldn’t go like that. She had no idea how long she’d stood there before her hammering heart had slowed to the rhythm of resignation, the knowledge of the centerpiece fact she’d now have to build her new shattered life around.

      He was never coming back.

      It felt like her world had ended, for a third time. Two out of the three times it had happened, it had been on Ivan’s account.

      But it wasn’t her world that mattered now. Her family needed her. It was what had finally made her walk back into the house full of all who’d loved Alex, where she’d plunged again in the surreal realm of being in his house knowing he’d never be there again. Being among the people she’d been closest to since birth, contemplating all the ways their lives would be diminished and distorted in his absence had agonized her more with each passing second. But it had at least made it impossible to think of Ivan.

      After a while, the presence of the mourners had turned from solace to suffocation for her parents and Cathy. As the one who’d dealt with the most brutal stages of Alex’s loss, it was up to her to take charge. Using up her last traces of stamina and diplomacy, she’d made everyone leave, put the shattered Cathy and kids to bed and taken her broken parents home.

      Once she’d settled them down as best she could, and sought the sanctuary of her own room, she’d finally taken off the mask of strength. Closing