His expression hardens, though he doesn’t seem all that surprised. “Get some sleep.”
Turning away from me before I can insist on continuing this conversation, Ivan heads in the direction we came from with his shoulders tight. Everything is still unresolved, with even more damning information hanging between us now.
I furrow my brows. “Where are you going?”
But he doesn’t say anything. Instead, he opens the door and closes it roughly behind him, allowing the lock to click into place.
Then, the condo goes deafeningly quiet, and I stand there for far too long without a clue of what to do next while my hands shake.
His family killed my dad. He watched me, followed me, and allowed himself to know me without my permission.
That violation settles deep within my chest, and I don’t know how I can even begin to free myself of it.
Chapter 11 - Ivan
Not having a concrete plan pisses me off.
Watching my attempts at keeping one together, only for it to crumble right in front of me, pisses me off more.
Instead of doing what needs to be done and reaping the rewards, I have an angry woman on my hands, busy hating me for reasons that are entirely my fault, along with a never-ending slippery slope I can’t catch a break from.
Try as I might to form something concrete that will help us all, the baby shower made it painfully clear that I’m not any closer than I was a few weeks ago.
My brothers said as much, and knowing how perceptive they are, they know I’m improvising. They know that something other than duty is guiding me right now. Hell, for the most part, they’ve found themselves in a similar position, and they wasted no time doing the one thing they surely expected me to.
In our world, marriage is how you both secure alliances and figuratively tell your enemies to fuck off when done with the right person. Tying myself to Mila legally would be a swift way to remove her from the equation, and it would be difficult for others to challenge without more bloodshed. My brothers wouldn’t have a leg to stand on if they questioned it, either.
Roman didn’t ask me to tie a knot around her. He told me to get rid of her like it was a simple request. Of course, I’m not prepared to let that happen, which leaves me with very few options.
Forcing Mila to marry me would also require me to be someone I’m not.
I don’t marry, and I don’t promise anyone permanence. I don’t operate around another person outside of my family and call it duty, nor do I waste time trying to find security or comfort in anyone else.
Whether my brothers have benefited from sheer luck or pure stubborn determination when it comes to their marriages, I don’t know, but in my case, I don’t think I’d have such luck.
With my track record, I’m not so sure I deserve it anyway.
Yet, letting Mila go feels more like shooting myself in the foot and hoping I don’t bleed out. I’ve invested far too much time into watching her and learning about those details she didn’t want me to uncover, and now, she also knows too much.
Whether she’s figured it out completely or not, soon enough, she’ll realize my dedication was never about facts skimmed over in a dossier handed to me. Instead, it’s personal, even if I never should’ve allowed that to happen.
She already hates me, but she’ll only hate me more.
While I don’t want to admit that Roman is right, and the smart move would be to create distance between us for the sake of damage control, I’m not willing to let that happen. I’m not prepared for the inner turmoil it would place in me.
So, I make temporary space instead. Something I can abandon the moment my urge to be near her kicks up again.
I end up in one of our clubs, reacquainting myself with the low lights and the deep bass I’ve managed to stray away from more recently. I’ve been too busy to indulge like usual, and now, I need the relief I’m used to.
Here, the private section calls me in like a siren call, and drinks appear without me asking. Our men and associates greetme briefly, nodding as I pass them, and before long, the usual drifters come back in.
This is where I usually unwind, and while the relief surrounds me at first, it doesn’t feel as sweet as usual.
Still, I drink anyway. The whiskey goes down as easily as it normally does, and the slight burn melts the rough edges of my otherwise flailing plan. Between the lights and the bottles entering my space, along with the more attentive women, I don’t know how much time passes, but it doesn’t seem to matter anyway.
Their laughter surrounds me, pitched just right while their dresses are cut short enough to potentially invite curious hands, but I struggle to focus on them or the way they linger like they want something.
Of course, it doesn’t take long for her to find me.
