Chapter 175 Chapter 175 Spring Love
This week has been… challenging.
Letting more chaos in every time someone comes to visit us. My father, his father, his mother—I agreed to that. But Dimitri and Marie? That’s a different story.
The men have been fishing. A lot. Almost every day, for most of the damn day, leaving me alone with Christina and Marie. His mother I can handle, but something about Marie drives me absolutely insane.
I try to pretend it’s not jealousy.
Because honestly, I should be grateful. I only have Ivan. I love Ivan. If Dimitri had been part of my life too, it would’ve been complicated. I knew that years ago, back when they floated the idea of a throuple.
So why do I hate this girl?
This beautiful, perfect girl.
She fits with them. With all of them.
And somehow, she brought all my insecurities into the one place that was supposed to be mine—my sanctuary.
Today, though, Ivan spent half the day yelling on the phone. Working. He set up a small station in the living room under the window that faces the backyard. He usually keeps it contained—fifteen hours a week, maybe—but today was different.
I haven’t heard him raise his voice like that in a long time.
He scared Constantine.
So I sent my son outside to help Maria with whatever she needed, just to get him away from it.
Now I’m in the kitchen, hovering over the stove, making dinner. The window above the sink is open, letting in the spring air. The trees are in full bloom, blossoms everywhere—soft, fragrant, peaceful. The sun is setting, painting everything gold.
Despite everything… I feel calm.
Then his arms wrap around me.
Big. Warm.
Ivan rests his chin on my shoulder, grounding me instantly. I reach up, brushing my fingers along his jaw.
He shaved.
His mother’s been on him about that.
I liked him either way.
He slides my headphones off gently.
“My mom’s been asking if you need help,” he murmurs into my ear.
His voice—low, deep—sends a shiver straight down my spine.
I turn toward the dining area. Christina is leaning casually against the kitchen island.
“Sorry,” I say, offering a polite smile. “I like to cook with music. I’m good, though. You’re a guest—just enjoy your time.”
Constantine runs straight to her, wrapping himself around her leg.
“We are family, baby girl,” she says, flashing me a mischievous grin.
I suppress the urge to respond.
Instead, I nod.
Because no—we’re not family. Not in the way she means it. I don’t see it like that.
I don’t fit into the Pavlov aesthetic—the beauty, the polish, the effortless glamour. Even out here, in the mountains, Christina has a full face of makeup every single day.
So does Marie.
They packed for a luxury villa, not this… simple life.
Once the bread finishes baking, I pull it out, let it cool, then slice it and bring everything to the table.
As I lean forward to set the basket down, Ivan’s hand slides up my leg, settling on my ass.
Damn it.
He’s already had a few drinks with our fathers and his brother.
As much as I love when he touches me like that—not in front of my father.
I reach back and move his hand away.
Across the table, my father chuckles.
I barely sit down before he starts.
“How long are you going to play house in the mountains?” he asks.
“Father,” I exhale, already feeling the tension build.
“I was talking to your man,” he says, looking straight at Ivan as he takes another bite.
My eyes widen.
Anger flares instantly.
Since when does Ivan get a say in how long I stay here? And what the hell is that—your man?
I feel it rising in my chest, sharp and fast, ready to explode—but Constantine is watching me.
So I swallow it.
Ivan’s hand slides up my back, under my tank top, his warm palm resting against my skin. It steadies me just enough. I catch Dimitri staring at my tits, he grins at me.
“Until Constantine has to start school,” Ivan says calmly. “Isn’t that what you want, Elena?” He presses a kiss to my shoulder.
I keep eating, saying nothing.
“Where are you going to live when that time comes?” my father presses.
I see Illia Sr. elbow him under the table.
He’s pushing today. Hard.
And I’m trying even harder not to snap.
I don’t want Constantine growing up in a house full of shouting. Not like this. Not when things between Ivan and me have finally been… calm.
We don’t fight anymore.
It’s nice.
“Wherever she wants,” Ivan answers before I can. “LA, Vegas, Milan, Paris, Plovdiv… it doesn’t matter.”
My father laughs.
I take a slow, controlled breath.
“There she is,” he says. “For a moment—just a moment—I thought he tamed you.”
Ivan bursts out laughing.
“Like Helena says,” he adds, “don’t poke the bear. Just because she looks peaceful doesn’t mean she won’t rip your face off.”
“Or give you a new butthole,” Constantine chimes in casually.
The table goes silent.
Then we all turn to him.
Slowly.
And then the laughter hits—loud, uncontrollable.
“What are you saying? Don’t say that!” I manage between laughs, my ribs already aching.
Constantine shrugs like it’s nothing.
“You told Auntie Gemma you were going to rip Sergey a new butthole if he didn’t stop saying stupid things to you.”
When the laughter dies down, I stand and start collecting the dirty dishes.
“I’ll take those,” Christina says with a warm smile. “I think Ivan needs your attention.”
I blink at her, confused, as she gently takes the plates from my hands.
What is she talking about?
I turn toward Ivan.
He—
is
down
on
one
knee.
My breath catches.
No. Not like this. Not in front of everyone.
Heat rushes to my face, embarrassment creeping in, but I force myself to stay still.
“Will you marry me?” he asks, looking up at me.
There it is—that look. The please say yes written all over his face.
I’ve had time to think about this.
He’s asked me before. More than once.
But never like this.
Never with a ring.
“Yes,” I say quietly.
For a split second, everything feels still.
Then Ivan is on his feet, grinning like a madman as he slides the ring onto my finger. It’s stunning—far more than the last engagement ring I wore.
“I’ve been carrying this damn thing around since your eighteenth birthday,” he says, cupping my face as he leans in, pressing soft, lingering kisses to my lips.