Chapter 183 Chapter 183 The Wedding Present
Mason and I spend most of the song talking about our daughter. I secretly hope she looks more like him than me. Mason is unfairly beautiful, the kind of man people stare at without realizing they’re doing it. His hands rest warm against my back as he guides me across the dance floor with effortless ease.
Then it hits me.
“You haven’t stepped on my feet once,” I blurt out.
Mason laughs, low and smooth, the kind of laugh that could melt ice. “I might’ve taken a few lessons,” he says, spinning me cleanly beneath his arm. “Can’t confirm or deny it though.”
I laugh softly as he pulls me back against him. Not too close. Never disrespectful. Mason understands lines better than people give him credit for.
He leans down near my ear. “Your father is coming this way,” he murmurs. “And he looks pissed.”
The warmth disappears as he immediately puts space between us.
I turn just as my father reaches us.
“Why are you here?” he asks coldly, glaring at Mason. “And why are you touching my daughter?”
Every muscle in my body tightens.
“Father,” I warn quietly, stepping infront of Mason. “Calm down. You’re causing a scene.”
“I can handle myself,” Mason says from behind me.
I know he can. In a normal fight? Absolutely. In a boxing match? Definately. But not here. Not surrounded by Illia Sr.’s men. Men trained by my father. Men who know how to hurt people efficiently.
“This motherfucker should be buried somewhere,” my father spits. “Shaking my hand with the same hand he used to hurt my daughter.”
The entire room feels sharper suddenly. Colder.
I push against my father’s chest, forcing a little distance between them. “We are past that,” I say firmly. “I forgave him.”
My father’s jaw flexes.
“You cannot hurt the father of your unborn granddaughter,” I continue. “And if that’s not enough reason, then understand this—if anyone touches Mason, I won’t speak to you again. You won’t see me. You won’t see Constantine. You won’t see any of your grandkids.”
His expression flickers.
“For fuck’s sake,” I snap, emotion finally breaking through. “Mason is literally my wedding gift from you. Don’t harm him.”
Silence crashes between us.
My father stares at me like he doesn’t recognize the woman standing in front of him.
Then something dark moves across his face as he steps forward.
Mason reacts instantly.
One arm wraps around my waist, moving me behind him so quickly my heels stumble against the dance floor. He squares up with my father without hesitation, broad shoulders tense, eyes locked.
The two of them stand face-to-face.
Same height.
Same intensity.
Both terrifying in completely different ways.
My pulse pounds so hard I feel dizzy.
Then suddenly Ivan is there.
His arm circles my waist and pulls me firmly behind him. Protective. Possessive. Calm in a way that somehow feels even more dangerous.
“What’s going on?” he asks evenly.
My father tears his eyes from Mason. “How could you allow this?” he demands. “How could you let her have a child with him?”
I hold my breath.
Ivan doesn’t even hesitate.
“Because,” he says quietly, “like you, I failed her more than once.”
The words hit harder than shouting ever could.
“And now that she has given me the honor of being my wife…” He glances back at me briefly before facing my father again. “I’ll give her anything and everything she wants.”
My chest tightens.
“You gave her freedom,” Ivan continues. “I’m giving her this. Their daughter and ours will grow up together. Loved. Protected. Wanted.”
For the first time since walking over, my father’s face softens.
Not completely.
But enough.
It’ll take years for him to truly accept Mason. Maybe it’ll never happen. But at least the immediate danger fades from the room.
I finally exhale.
“Mason,” I say gently, touching his arm. “Go get a drink.”
His expression shifts immediately when he looks at me, all the tension draining from his features. His hand slides over mine for a second before he nods and disappears toward the bar.
“Father?” I ask quietly. “Dance with me before dinner starts.”
For a moment, I think he’ll refuse.
Then he places one large hand at my back and leads me slowly spins me away from Ivan.
Across the room, Christina slips into Ivan’s arms effortlessly, distracting him while my father and I sway awkwardly beneath the glowing lights.
The band softens into something slower.
Something emotional.
My father clears his throat.
“I’m sorry.”
I freeze mid-step.
I actually stop moving entirely.
Did my father just apologize?
His eyes stay forward, avoiding mine. “I shouldn’t have caused a scene at your wedding.” His voice roughens slightly. “And I won’t touch Mason.”
Shock leaves me almost numb.
I pull back just enough to look at him properly.
This man raised me with hard lessons, sharp words, impossible expectations. Apologies were never part of our relationship.
Yet here he is.
“I hope,” he says quietly, finally meeting my eyes, “you never understand the helpless feeling of watching someone hurt your daughter.”
Emotion punches through me so suddenly my vision blurs.
Tears fill my eyes before I can stop them.
My father immediately pulls a handkerchief from his pocket and dabs beneath my lashes with surprising gentleness.
The action is so tender it almost breaks me.
Who is this man tonight?
Because for the first time in my life, he doesn’t just feel like my absent father.
He feels like someone trying.
Ivan appears beside us again, his hand sliding around my waist. “Food’s coming out,” he says softly.
I nod, still emotional, and let him pull me away.
As we walk back toward our table, my attention drifts across the reception toward the bar.
My father now stands beside Mason.
Both of them holding whiskey.
Talking.
Not yelling.
Not threatening.
Talking.
I brace instinctively for violence anyway, waiting for raised voices or shattered glass or someone getting punched.
Instead, nervous laughter drifts across the room.
Ivan notices my expression and laughs quietly beside me.
“They’re getting along already,” he whispers. “That was faster than expected.”
I blink up at him. “You sound offended.”
“A little,” he admits with a grin.
We sit, and he leans closer until his lips nearly brush my ear.
“It took me way longer to get back into his good graces.” His eyes gleam with amusement. “Your father visited me in prison after he found out what I did.”
My stomach drops.
Ivan smirks.
“Then he beat the absolute shit out of me.”