Page 18 of Devious Truth (Vicious Sinners #3)

I van’s in the living room on the phone with Kaz, arguing about his injury when I find him the next morning. He’s standing at the window, glaring down at the street below while chastising his younger brother.

“Give it one more day.” He adds something in Russian. From the tone, I’m pretty sure he’s throwing an insult at Kaz.

Finding the pharmacy bag from my shopping trip yesterday on the counter, I grab the brand-new bottle of shampoo. The crinkle of the plastic bag must grab his attention, because he lets the curtain fall and turns to look at me.

He’s dressed in nothing but his black trousers, and his hair is a tousled mess that makes him appear unruly. It’s the realest I’ve ever seen him.

When his eyes catch mine, a tingle dances over my skin.

“I have to go. Just do what the damn doctor tells you.” He ends the call, tossing the phone onto the coffee table. “You’re up.”

I nod. “I am.”

“I thought you’d sleep a little while longer.” He slides his hands into his pockets.

He’s beautiful. Without the layers of his suit to hide his form, every muscle in his arms and his chest ripple with his movement. The sacred abdominal muscles that direct the female gaze downward make my mouth water. How had I missed this last night?

Right, he distracted me with spankings and orgasms.

“I thought you might be gone already.” I hug my towel to my chest.

I doubt the oversized T-shirt I threw on before venturing out of the bedroom is giving him the same appetite as what I’m looking at.

“Gone?” He tilts his head. “Why would I be gone?”

“It’s morning.” I gesture to the light streaking from the windows. “And this place doesn’t look any better in the daylight.”

A hint of a grin lifts the left corner of his mouth. “You can come stay with me. The offer is still open.”

Right. Kaz’s little accident.

“That would be a bad idea. Living with you? No.” I nudge my chin toward the window. “Has the armed guard shown up yet?”

“They never left.” He lifts a shoulder, as if this is the most normal thing in the world– having men with guns sit outside.

But for him, it’s just another day. This is his world. Full of violence and threats.

“They won’t bother the other people in the building, right? I don’t want anyone being harassed on my account.”

“Unless your neighbors are a danger to you, they’ll be fine.”

There’s a knock on the door, making him frown.

“I hate your building.” He puts a hand up to stop me when I start for the door. “I’ll get it.”

“You’re not dressed,” I take another step, but the fierceness of his glare when he looks over his shoulder at me makes me freeze.

“You’re wearing nothing but a shirt that’s so thin I can see your nipples from here.”

Heat rushes up my throat, covering my face, and I lift the towel higher, hugging it tighter against me as if it could possibly shield me from Ivan’s gaze.

“I was hoping to avoid committing murder this early in the morning, but if the delivery guy looks at you even for a second too long, I’ll have to cut out his eyes. And if he so much as brushes his hand against you, I’ll have to kill him. So, for his sake, just stay there.”

I can’t tell if he’s kidding or not. Considering the threat he made that Russian guy at the club, I have a suspicion there’s at least some truth to it. Or he’s just trying to make me comply with his orders.

“Wait. Delivery man?”

Ivan opens the door as I move behind the table. There’s a short conversation, then Ivan leans back, finding me hidden enough in the kitchen to allow the delivery to be brought in.

“Just put it here.” He steps back, holding the door open, still trying to block me from view.

Bags and bags of groceries are brought into the apartment. The delivery guy, a young man barely twenty, I suspect, doesn’t even look in my direction. I wonder if Ivan told him to keep his eyes down before he let him inside the apartment.

Ivan hands him several folded-up bills before he leaves, then shuts and locks the door.

“What is all this?” I drop the shampoo and towel to the counter and inspect the bags. “You bought groceries?”

“Your fridge is basically empty and if you’re going to insist on staying here, you’ll need food.” He carries half the order in two hands to the kitchen, hoisting the bags onto the counter. “Go take your shower. Breakfast will be ready when you’re done.”

“Breakfast?” I peek into one of the bags. “I’m fine with toast.”

He stops unpacking the bags to glower at me. “Get in the shower.”

“Are you always extra bossy in the mornings or is it just this one?” I snag my shower supplies again.

“I’m as bossy as you need me to be.” He slaps my ass, propelling me toward the bathroom.

I shower quickly, then realize I left my clothes in the bedroom. Wrapping the towel around my body, I tuck in the corner before opening the bathroom door to search for Ivan’s location.

The scent of smoky bacon fills my nostrils. Peeking my head out, I find him standing at the stove stirring something in a pan—probably scrambled eggs. The toaster beeps just as two slices of bread pop up.

“It’s almost ready.” Ivan half turns his head to flash me a sly grin.

There’s a playfulness to him this morning that makes him even hotter.

“I just need to get dressed.”

“Don’t bother on my account. Less work for me later.” He winks then snags the toast and drops them on a plate.

I hurry to the bedroom and dig out a pair of leggings and another T-shirt. Cursing myself, I realize I never got around to washing my clothes yesterday. Looks like I’m going without panties again.

“Coffee?” Ivan asks when I pad back out.

“Of course.” I slide up to him as he pours a cup for me. His is already half drunk. “You drink it black?”

I make a face.

“It’s good coffee; you don’t need to put anything else in it,” he argues with a soft smile as he watches me pour creamer with a heavy hand, then dump a tablespoon of sugar into the cup.

He’s completely appalled as I take a sip of the coffee, and it almost makes me spit it out.

“Don’t judge me.” I look over at the plates he’s filled with scrambled eggs, bacon, and toast. “That looks amazing. I’m surprised you cook.”

“Why does that surprise you?”

I scoop up a forkful of eggs. “Don’t you have a chef and a full staff of people that cater to whatever you want?”

“I do here, yes.” He takes the plate from me and carries both to the tiny kitchen table.

“But when we were younger, we spent a lot of summers in Russia with our grandparents. My grandmother loved cooking, so she wouldn’t allow my grandfather to hire anyone to work in the kitchen.

When we visited as children, she taught us. ”

The thought of Ivan as a boy, perched on a stool beside his grandmother, learning to cook, makes me smile. It’s overshadowed by the hope I’d had once of having the same experience with my own children. My appetite wanes.

“Vee?”

I look up from my plate.

“Did I say something wrong?”

“No.” I inhale sharply, then dig back into my breakfast. “It’s so good. Much better than toast.”

He eyes me suspiciously, but he doesn’t press.

“You’ve started calling me Vee.” I move the subject safely away from talk of children.

“Things are less formal between us now.” He finishes off his coffee.

“Ivan, I know last night we said things, but people say things when they’re in the middle of sex, right? It’s not binding. You don’t have to?—”

“What’s this?” He cuts me off, picking up the photo frame from the end of the counter. The only photo I’ve allowed myself to keep since my world cracked in half. “Vee?”

I instinctively touch my stomach, to the scar.

“That’s me and my husband.”

He continues to stare blankly at me.

“You knew I was married before.”

“Yes. He passed away. It’s in your file.”

“My file?”

“You work for my family, did you think we wouldn’t dig around before offering you a job.” He raises his brow, moving his finger to my swollen belly in the photo. “But nothing showed up about a baby.”

“That’s because there isn’t one.” I get up from the table, snatching the frame from him and putting it face down again– as though the past will stay buried if I can just keep from looking at it. Maybe it’s time I pack the photo away.

“I was in the car accident that killed Derek. I lost the baby.”

People’s reaction is the same every time—pity followed by an awkward silence. Their faces soften into a look of helpless sympathy. Then comes the panicked look for escape, because losing a baby makes people uncomfortable. As though losing a baby is contagious.

“How?” His voice is low. Rough.

“How?”

“You looked very pregnant in that photo.” He places his hand on top of the frame. “What happened?”

I fold my arms over my stomach—protective. Empty. “A drunk driver jumped the median and came into our lane. We were hit head on. Derek died instantly.”

The next words catch in my throat. “I was unconscious when the paramedics arrived. When I woke up, I found out that my husband and my son were gone.”

I force the rest out, dragging the memory out into the light. “I was seven months pregnant, and the placenta separated from my uterus. There was no oxygen...” I take a shaky breath. “He suffocated inside me.”

Ivan’s jaw tightens. “What happened to the driver?”

A chill runs through me at the ice in his tone. His expression is murderous.

“He was paralyzed from the neck down in the accident. He’s spending the next fifteen years in prison, one of those medical facilities.”

“That’s not enough.”

“No.” I breathe, it comes a little easier now. “It’s not. But whatever happens to him, it won’t make things different. They’ll still be gone.”

Ivan steps to me, cautiously, as though he can sense me battling my instinct to run and hide.

“You’ve been carrying all that all by yourself.” His anger still underlines his words.

But I can sense the rage isn’t at me; it’s for me. For the pain I’ve had to endure, and maybe the fact that he wasn’t there to protect me. Even though all of it happened before he even touched my life.

“I knew you were strong, but fuck, that had to be so much.” He cups my face, drawing me into him. “You don’t have to do this alone anymore. Not while I’m breathing.”

“Don’t.” I push his hand away and shove away from the table. “You can’t make that promise. You have no idea what can happen on any day.”

His brow pulls tight. “I know that I’ll do whatever I have to do to keep you from getting hurt.”

“How? By keeping men sitting outside my apartment for the rest of my life? What about you? Kaz went to dinner, a date, and look what happened to him.” I pick up the dishes and bring them to the sink.

“Yes. I’ll keep men on the street, outside your door if I need to.”

“And the rest? You think Marco DeAngelo and the rest of his family is going to back down anytime soon? Kaz was shot, Ivan, do you think I don’t know what that means for what comes next?” I press the heel of my hands into the edge of the counter.

His phone blares from the coffee table.

“You should get that,” I say when he continues to stare at me.

“I’m not worried about my phone.”

“Get your phone.” I turn, ready to leave to him to it, but he catches my wrist, spins me back to him until I’m crushed against his chest.

His fingers dig painfully into my cheeks as he grips my face, forcing me to stare into his heated stare. “You’re cute like this, thinking you can control the moment.”

“I’m not trying to control anything?—”

“But you and I both know it’s the last thing you want.” He leans into me. “You’re mine now, Vee. I didn’t just say that because my dick was inside you. I said it because I meant it. And I mean it still today.”

“Well, you were wrong.” Shoving at his chest proves impossible. His grip only tightens.

“You think so?”

“Yes. I’m not yours. I’m not anyone’s!” I kick him in the shin.

Pain ricochets up from my bare foot up into my leg, while he seems completely unfazed. Except for the black clouds that have entered the room and hover directly over us. Those suggest I’ve unleashed a storm of epic proportions.

“You kicked me.”

No sense in backing down now.

“I did. Let me go.” I try again to pull free of his grasp, but still, he doesn’t relent.

His eyes narrow.

A sinister force curls his lips as he lowers his mouth to my ear. I stiffen, knowing whatever he’s about to say is going to break me.

“You’re a bad girl, Vivienne.”