I wanted more of it. And maybe another part of me, the dark, insidious part that thirsted to test the limits of those around me, wanted to see how far I could push before she broke and decided it was too much for her.
Judging by the way her shoulders are locked tight and how set her jaw is, I’ve gotten my answer.
Too far.
The gate guards wave us through when we reach the compound. I pull through and up the long drive, killing the engine in front of the front steps. She gets out without waiting for one of the doormen to come over and open it for her, already shutting the door before I can talk to her.
I don’t bother trying to get her to stop and talk to me. Clearly, what’s done is done and I’ve ruined whatever fragile truce had been temporarily held between us.
As we make our way up the front steps, the front doors are pulled open for us.
“Go to your room,” I tell her when we step inside. “We’ll continue our conversation from earlier later.”
She doesn’t argue and walks off without so much as a glance over her shoulder.
It bothers me more than it should. Enough that my jaw aches from how hard I’m clenching my teeth together watching her figure retreat up the stairs and disappear around the corner heading to her suite.
Lev is waiting in the entryway for me, only stepping away from where he’s leaned up against the wall once I’ve finally let out a slow exhale. “Sergei’s been trying to reach you.”
I nearly sigh again. Of course he has. Nothing gets past him long—though I am interested to find out how he knew I was the one who took his glorified babysitter. Perhaps that man has more eyes in the city than I originally thought.
Nodding my thanks to Lev, I make the call from my study, needing the quiet and privacy while I still grapple with how deeply I’ve fucked up with Ivy. I have a feeling there’s no coming back from what I’ve done.
Though, perhaps in hindsight, that’s a good thing. I don’t need another distraction, especially one as tempting as her.
Sergei picks up on the second ring, already breathing fire. “Antonov. Tell me why you have my daughter’s tutor with you.”
“I needed to speak with her again about the cafe incident,” I reply simply.
“Then why the hell haven’t you returned her? It’s been days.”
Because I’m not in the habit of handing people back without knowing what they’re involved in. Even involuntarily.
Out loud, I say, “She’ll be back soon. I need to clear up a few things first.”
“Whatthings?”
I let the silence stretch.
The truth is, I don’t know why she went back to that cafe, what compelled her to risk herself like that when she knows no one has been apprehended for it. She never actually explained herself while we were talking over lunch. Though, to play Devil’s advocate, I didn’t exactly ask, either.
While I’m not still married to the idea that she had something to do with the shootout, until I know whether it has anything to do with heremployer, I’m not telling him a damn thing.
“It’s nothing for you to worry about, Sergei. I’ve got it handled.”
His temper flares. “I paid good money for that girl to come over here and teach my daughter.Goodmoney, Antonov. And now Yulia’s been asking every day where she is. Do you understand me? She misses her and wants her back.”
Internally, I wince. Yulia has always been my soft spot. That girl has been surrounded by more darkness in her short little life than most men in my line of work ever will be. And yet somehow, she’s still bright, still kind, still curious. I’d seen Yulia soften under Ivy’s gentle persistence.
Taking that away from her is the last thing I want.
“I’ll make sure she gets back to you soon,” I tell him, and then I hang up before he can argue with me again.
I don’t like being rushed. Not by business, not by enemies, andcertainlynot by colleagues who think emotional leverage will get them what they want if they dig their fingers into my soft spots hard enough.
It never works the way they think it will.
If anything, it has the opposite effect. It makes me dig my heels in, forces me to put my foot down and tighten my grip on the reins until I’ve wrestled every ounce of control back into my own hands.
