Page 91

Wrapping the damp towel around me, I opened the door to the bathroom and walked toward the bedroom, pausing to see if he was following. A part of me hated that having too much distance from him right now caused me such anxiety, but there wasn’t anything I could do to control it. As if sensing what I needed, he wrapped his big hand around the nape of my neck. “I’m here, Em,” he said, leading me to the bedroom.
I pulled out some shorts and a long-sleeved t-shirt out of my luggage and he threw on his usual uniform of jeans and a t-shirt. My stomach growled and Ivan looked at me with a stern look. “Why didn’t you tell me you were hungry,” he accused lightly.
“I didn’t even realize it until now.”
His lips pressed together, and he pulled me into a tight hug, and I didn’t realize until that moment it was exactly what I needed. “Let’s get you some food.”
“Cold pizza?” I teased.
He smirked and threw his arm over my shoulder and escorted me to the living room. “I can do better than that. Do you like Thai?”
“Oh, yes. Pad Thai with tofu, please.”
He nodded, already typing something into his phone. He grabbed two more beers from the fridge and sat down next to me on the couch. Was it just last night we were sitting here while I flirted with Ivan, daring him to have sex with me? It felt like a million years ago.
“Watch what you’re doing with that bottle,” Ivan warned as I absentmindedly brought it to my mouth.
I shot him a shy grin and took a sip, grimacing again at the harsh taste.
“I’ve got to get some drinks for you that you actually like,” he murmured before taking a sip. His implication that I would be returning to his apartment gave me the courage to spit out the one topic that had been pressing down on me since we arrived here.
“Can we talk about…us?” I blurted out.
He gave me a slightly pained expression but followed it up with a tight nod and more beer drinking. “What do you want to talk about?”
I licked my lips nervously, an action Ivan’s green gaze followed avidly. “You better get to the point, Emmy, before I drag you back to the bedroom and you have cold dinner again.”
I gave a little nervous laugh. I didn’t know why I was so nervous; he’d just told me had deep feelings for me. I should feel more confident. But I didn’t.
“Well, what happens between us now? Are we… like…dating?”
He frowned, as if the label we’d use to describe our relationship had never occurred to him. “I suppose that’s what you’d call it. You’re mine. You stay with me. Whatever that kind of relationship is called, that’s what we are.”
“So, we’re in a committed relationship?” I pressed. I think it was the lingering vision of that stripper sitting so close to Ivan, putting her hands on him. Or trying to put her hands on him, given Ivan’s skittishness. There was this low buzz of insecurity that I couldn’t completely shake, and I knew if I didn’t just talk about it, it would end up consuming me.
Ivan pressed his lips together, as if he could see exactly what I was imagining and was frustrated by it. He put his beer on the table and moved closer to me, curling his hand around the nape of my neck.
“Emmy, what you saw today…that was work. I was sent there to put that woman on an airplane and ship her ass back to Moscow. That’s it. I know it looked fucked, but trust me, I had absolutely no interest in her.”
I nodded my head, believing him. “Okay. I can’t say I’m thrilled that tracking down exotic dancers and negotiating with them is one of your primary tasks.”
“I know, it sucks, but that isn’t exactly a common occurrence.” He paused and stared deeply into my eyes, worry creeping into his emerald gaze. “You’ll just have to trust me. Can you do that?”
I reached up and gripped his wrist, simultaneously indicating my trust and testing the waters on touching him. “Yes, of course, I can. I’ve always trusted you. I just got a little rattled when I saw you with that woman in the club.” He nodded in understanding and didn’t remove my hand from his wrist. “I can trust you. Can you trust me?”
He took a deep breath and released me, reaching for his beer and sitting back against the couch. “I’ve never trusted anyone, Emmy,” he stated grimly, then winced. “Well, I did once, sort of, and it nearly got me fucking killed.”
I moved closer, surprise and curiosity flickering inside of me. I wanted to give him a consoling touch, but he didn’t look particularly receptive. He looked tormented and shut down. “Can you tell me about it?”
Ivan finished his beer, then gave me a long look. “I’ve never told anyone the whole story. Nobody even knows half of it.”
I knew what he was saying. This wasn’t going to be easy for him. My brow furrowed as I wracked my brain for a way to make it less difficult for him, to make him feel more at ease to share with me. I reached out twice but pulled my hand back with uncertainty. I wasn’t sure how long I sat there trying to think of something, when I caught Ivan staring at me with a soft, mysterious look on his face.
“What?”
He shook his head with a soft smile. “Come here, Em.” He held his hand out to me, pulling my back against his side and wrapping his arm around my front. I couldn’t see his face, but I was pretty sure that was intentional. The vulnerability of sharing his story while I could watch his expression was obviously too uncomfortable for him. I also noticed that his arms were securely locked around me. He might not want me looking at him, but he definitely didn’t want me getting away from him either.
“I joined the Bratva because it was my birthright and the only world I’d ever really known, but from the minute I got in, I was determined to figure out what happened to my mother. I knew it wasn't a coincidence that she and Nikolai’s mom had disappeared at the same time. The wives of the number one and two disappear at the same time coincidentally? No fucking way. I feel like a fucking idiot for not having put it together after finding out that Yuri had been so infatuated with Katya. Of course, if my mother had found out something like that, she would have tried to take us away,” he said, his voice low and gritty with emotion. I knew he rarely spoke of his mother, knew it was a highly sensitive topic, and my heart ached at the heavy sorrow in his voice.