Page 18

Ivan

The meeting with the Italians wraps up quicker than I expected, and as I drive back through the narrow streets of Florence, my mind wanders to Sarah. I can’t help but chuckle at the memory of her earlier, the way she looked so annoyed at having to go out alone—well, alone with Artem, which to her is probably worse. The fire in her eyes, the sass in her voice… she’s always trying to push my buttons, but I know she’s just trying to carve out a little independence in this life I’ve pulled her into.

The thought of her brings a small smile to my lips, but as I approach the Uffizi Gallery, my mood shifts. The streets around the gallery are bustling, but I find a spot and park, feeling a strange pull toward her. The closer I get, the more I feel the need to see her, to remind her—and myself—of what’s between us.

Artem is waiting outside, as usual, ever the vigilant shadow. He straightens up when he sees me, nodding in acknowledgment. “She’s inside, Mr. Sharov,” he says, his tone professional.

I nod back, stepping past him and into the gallery. The cool air and quiet ambiance of the gallery are a stark contrast to the heat and noise outside. I start my search, weaving through the halls and glancing at the art, though none of it holds my attention. My focus is solely on finding Sarah, my little feisty wife who’s likely sulking at having been left on her own.

When I finally spot her, my blood runs cold. She’s not alone. She’s standing with a man, their conversation too intimate for my liking. The way they’re looking at each other… it’s as if they share a history, something deep, something personal. My jaw clenches as I watch them from a distance, my hands curling into fists.

Then, suddenly, the man pulls her into a hug.

Red. All I see is red. My vision narrows as fury floods my veins. Without thinking, I march toward them, my stride long and purposeful. There’s a ringing in my ears, the sound of my own rage drowning out everything else. How dare he touch her? How dare she let him?

I’m on them in seconds. Without a word, I grab the man by the collar and yank him away from her, throwing him aside with a force that sends him stumbling. Before he can react, my fist connects with his jaw, the satisfying crunch of bone meeting bone reverberating through my knuckles.

Sarah gasps, rushing between us, her hands pushing against my chest in a futile attempt to hold me back. “Ivan, stop!” she pleads, her voice high with panic. “Please, don’t do this!”

Her words barely register. All I can think about is the look on her face when she was with him, the way she seemed to know him, to care for him. It’s a betrayal I hadn’t prepared myself for, a wound to my pride and my claim on her that I won’t let stand.

“Who the hell is this?” I growl, my eyes locked on the man who’s now clutching his jaw, struggling to stand.

Before Sarah can answer, the man—Leo, I think she called him—spits blood onto the floor and glares up at me, his defiance clear despite the pain. “Her heart is mine,” he says, the words slurred but still cutting through the air like a knife.

His audacity sends a fresh wave of rage through me. I lunge forward, ready to pound him into the ground for even daring to say such a thing, but Sarah throws herself in front of him, her hands clutching my shirt as she begs me to stop. “Ivan, please! He’s just an old friend. This isn’t what you think!”

Her touch is enough to make me pause, but just barely. My chest heaves with the effort of holding myself back, the urge to protect what’s mine, and the need to understand just what the hell is going on here. I look down at her, searching her eyes for the truth, for some explanation that will make this all make sense.

“He means nothing to me,” she says, her voice trembling but steady. “I swear, Ivan, he’s nothing.”

I narrow my eyes, trying to gauge her sincerity. Before I can decide whether to believe her, Leo pushes himself to his feet, his eyes blazing with a mix of anger and desperation. “Nothing?” he scoffs, wiping blood from his lip. “Is that what you’re telling yourself, Sarah? You used to love me—hell, you still do. You can’t hide that from me.”

His words are like gasoline on the fire. I shove Sarah aside, my patience snapping as I land another punch squarely on Leo’s jaw, sending him crashing to the ground. “You don’t know a damn thing about her,” I snarl, standing over him, every muscle in my body coiled and ready to strike again.

“Ivan!” Sarah cries, scrambling to pull me back. She throws herself between us once more, her small frame a barrier I can’t bring myself to push through. Her hands clutch at my arms, her voice frantic. “Please, stop. This isn’t the way.”

I glare down at Leo, my fist still aching from the force of the blows. He’s sprawled on the floor, dazed but glaring up at me with a look that makes my blood boil. But Sarah’s touch, her voice, holds me back from finishing what I started. She’s desperate, pleading with me in a way that shakes something loose inside of me.

Before I can say anything, a security guard rushes over, his eyes wide with alarm as he takes in the scene. “Sir, you need to leave. Now.”

I’m not used to taking orders from anyone, especially not some low-level security guard, but I know the attention we’re drawing isn’t good. This isn’t the time or place to continue this fight.

“Get him out of here,” I snap at the guard, who quickly moves to help Leo to his feet.

As the guard drags Leo away, I turn back to Sarah, my chest still heaving with barely restrained anger. Her eyes are wide, filled with a mix of fear and something else—something I can’t quite place.

“Who is he?” I demand, my voice low and dangerous. “Don’t lie to me, Sarah.”

She hesitates, her gaze flickering to where Leo was just moments ago. “He’s… he was my boyfriend. Before everything. Before the Mafia.”

Her admission sends another jolt of anger through me, but this time it’s tempered by something else. Jealousy. The idea that anyone else might have had her, even before I came into her life, is like a thorn in my side. I force myself to stay calm, to focus on what’s important.

“Is that what this is about?” I ask, my voice tight. “You think you can just run back to your old life? Run back to him?”

“No,” she says quickly, her voice filled with urgency. “I wasn’t planning anything like that. He just… showed up. I didn’t know he’d be here.”

I search her eyes, looking for any sign of deceit, but all I see is sincerity and fear. Slowly, I exhale, forcing myself to relax, if only slightly. “You’re mine, Sarah,” I remind her, my voice firm. “Don’t forget that.”

She nods, her gaze dropping to the floor as she takes a step back. “I know,” she whispers, her voice barely audible. “I know.”

I take a deep breath, trying to push down the lingering anger and jealousy. “Let’s get out of here,” I say, my tone brooking no argument. I don’t give her a chance to protest, grabbing her hand and leading her out of the gallery. Artem falls in step behind us, silent as ever, but I can feel his eyes on me, assessing the situation.

As we leave the gallery behind, I feel the weight of everything that just happened settling over me. I don’t like the way it makes me feel—vulnerable, exposed. I need to remind Sarah of who she belongs to, to erase any lingering thoughts she might have about her past, about Leo.

More than that, I need to remind myself that I’m the one in control. No one else. Not Leo. Not even Sarah.

***

The drive back to the villa is thick with tension, the silence between us charged with unspoken anger and confusion. My knuckles grip the steering wheel tightly, the image of Sarah in that man’s arms seared into my mind. The more I think about it, the more my blood boils. I can’t shake the look on her face when she saw him—a mix of shock and something else I can’t quite place. The way he touched her, held her, like he had any right to do so, makes me see red.

When we finally pull up to the villa, I don’t even wait for her to get out of the car. I’m around to her side in an instant, my hand gripping her arm as I lead her inside. The door barely closes behind us before I push her up against the wall, my body crowding hers, my hands on either side of her head, trapping her in place.

“What the hell were you doing with him?” I demand, my voice low and dangerous.

She looks up at me, her green eyes wide, a mixture of defiance and fear in them. “It wasn’t what you think, Ivan,” she says, her voice trembling slightly. “We were just talking.”

“Just talking?” I snarl, leaning in closer, my face inches from hers. “Is that what you call it when another man puts his hands on you, when he hugs you like that? Do you think I’m a fool, Sarah?”

Her breath hitches, but she holds her ground, her chin lifting slightly in defiance. “It’s over. I told him that. I told him I’m with you.”

The words ignite something dark inside me, something primal and possessive. The thought of anyone else even thinking they have a claim on her, touching her, holding her the way I do, drives me wild. I grab her chin, forcing her to look up at me, my grip firm but not enough to hurt her. My eyes bore into hers, searching for any sign of doubt, any indication that she might still care for that man.

All I see is the same mix of defiance and confusion, the same fire that drew me to her in the first place.

“You’re damn right you’re with me,” I growl, my voice low and rough. “And don’t you ever forget it.”

Before she can respond, I crash my lips against hers, the kiss rough and demanding, leaving no room for protest. It’s not gentle or soft—there’s nothing tender about the way I claim her mouth, the way I pour all my anger, my frustration, and my desire into the kiss. Her hands push against my chest for a moment, as if she’s trying to resist, but I don’t let her pull away. Instead, I press her harder against the wall, my body pinning hers, showing her exactly who she belongs to.

Sarah lets out a muffled gasp, her lips parting beneath mine, and I take the opportunity to deepen the kiss, my tongue tangling with hers in a heated dance. Her resistance crumbles, her hands moving from my chest to my shoulders, clutching at me as if she can’t decide whether to push me away or pull me closer. I take that as a victory, my grip on her chin tightening slightly as I tilt her head back, deepening the kiss even more.

I pull back just enough to speak, my breath hot against her lips. “You’re mine, Sarah,” I murmur, my voice a rough whisper. “Only mine, don’t fucking forget it.”

The words are a declaration, a vow, and I don’t wait for her to respond. I capture her lips again, this time with a bruising intensity that leaves no doubt in her mind who she belongs to. My free hand moves to her waist, sliding beneath the fabric of her shirt, feeling the warmth of her skin beneath my fingertips. Her body arches into mine, a soft moan escaping her lips, and I can feel the heat between us, the desire that simmers just beneath the surface.

I drag my lips down her neck, nipping at the sensitive skin there, savoring the way she quivers beneath my touch. Her hands find their way to my hair, her fingers tangling in the strands as she pulls me closer, a silent plea for more. The sound of her soft gasps, the way her body responds to me, only fuels the fire burning inside me.

“Mine,” I growl against her skin, my voice thick with possession.

She moans in response, her fingers tightening in my hair as she tilts her head back, giving me better access to her throat. I take full advantage, dragging my tongue along the sensitive skin, feeling the way her body trembles under my touch. Her reactions only spur me on, driving me to claim her with an intensity that borders on desperate.

I slip my hand under her shirt, sliding it up to cup her breast, feeling the soft weight in my palm. She arches into my touch, her breath hitching as I brush my thumb over her hardened nipple, teasing it through the thin fabric of her bra. Her hips buck against mine, seeking more, and I grind against her, letting her feel how hard I am, how much I want her.

“Do you feel that?” I murmur against her ear, my voice low and rough. “That’s what you do to me, Sarah. No one else—just you.”

She whimpers, her hands sliding down to my shoulders, clutching at me as if she’s afraid I’ll pull away. There’s no chance of that. Not now, not ever. I push her shirt up, exposing her skin to the cool air, and she gasps as I dip my head, taking her nipple into my mouth through the lace of her bra. I suck hard, biting down just enough to make her cry out, her nails digging into my shoulders.

“Ivan, please,” she moans, her voice filled with a need that matches my own. “I need you.”

The sound of her begging sends a jolt of satisfaction through me, and I quickly rid her of her bra, tossing it aside before pulling her shirt over her head. I capture her mouth in a bruising kiss, my hands roaming over her bare skin, feeling the way she shudders beneath me, the way she clings to me as if I’m the only thing keeping her grounded.

With one swift movement, I lift her off her feet, wrapping her legs around my waist as I press her against the wall. She gasps, her hands gripping my shoulders as I thrust into her, desperate, wanting.

I break the kiss, dragging my lips down her throat, across her collarbone, savoring the way she trembles in my arms. “You’re mine, Sarah,” I murmur against her skin, my voice thick with possession. “I’m never letting you go.”

“Yes,” she breathes, her voice shaky but filled with raw need. “I’m yours.”

Her words are my undoing. With a growl, I lower us both to the floor, her back hitting the hardwood as I cover her body with mine, kissing her fiercely, possessively, letting her feel the depth of my need for her.

I fuck her in a heated frenzy, hands exploring, bodies pressing closer, seeking more, demanding more. Her gasps and moans fill the room, mingling with my own as we lose ourselves in each other, the world outside fading into nothingness.

Finally I feel her tighten around me, her nails digging into my back as she cries out my name, her release hitting her hard. I follow her over the edge moments later, groaning against her neck as I find my own release, the pleasure crashing over me like a wave.

We collapse together, both of us spent, our bodies tangled on the floor. I hold her close, my chest heaving as I struggle to catch my breath, the aftershocks of our lovemaking still pulsing through me. She’s trembling in my arms, her head resting against my shoulder, her breath warm against my skin.

I press a kiss to her temple, feeling a surge of satisfaction as I hold her tight, knowing she’s mine in every way that matters.

She sighs, her body relaxing against me, her eyes fluttering shut as exhaustion overtakes her. We lie there together, the world outside forgotten, lost in the aftermath of our passion, and I know, without a doubt, that I’ll never let her go.