CHAPTER 17
IRIS
I wake up, take a long shower, pack my bags, and get everything ready. When I come downstairs, Ilay is already waiting. He looks calm, composed, as usual, and fully prepared.
I glance around and raise a brow. "No bodyguards?"
He gives me a slight smirk. "It's just a trip to America. I have people there. No need to carry a whole team across the ocean."
"Right," I say, adjusting the strap of my bag. "Of course you do."
We get into the car, and the tension between us sits right there in the backseat like a third passenger. Neither of us says much on the ride, but it isn't exactly uncomfortable.
When we arrive at the private airport, I can't help but grin. Tessa is already there, standing near the entrance with a massive duffel bag and what looks like homemade cardboard signs tucked under her arm.
She is dressed in baggy jeans, an oversized hoodie, a backwards cap, and beat-up sneakers. She looks like she has raided a teenage boy's closet.
"Tessa!" I call out, walking over.
She turns and grins, pulling out one of her signs. It reads "HELLO AMERICA" in big, uneven English letters.
I stop and stare. "What… is that?"
"My signs!" she says proudly. "I made a bunch of them. I want to practice my English with random people, so I figured why not start strong? I'm pretty excited."
I blink. "You made… cardboard signs. To talk to Americans."
"Yeah! Look, I've got 'THANK YOU,' 'WHERE IS BATHROOM,' and 'I AM TOURIST.'" She flips through them like flashcards.
Ilay walks past us, takes one look at the signs, shakes his head, and mutters, "Unbelievable."
Tessa looks up at him and grins. "What? You don't like my creativity?" He doesn't answer, just keeps walking toward the jet.
I laugh and loop my arm through hers. "Come on, you lunatic. Let's go."
As we walk across the private runway toward the aircraft, Tessa's jaw drops. "Holy shit. Is that his plane?"
"One of them, apparently," I say. "He says this is the smallest one."
"The smallest?" She looks at me like I've just told her aliens are real. "Girl, what have you gotten yourself into?"
"Don't ask."
Once we step inside, Tessa freezes. Her eyes go wide as she takes in the plush leather seats, the polished wood finishes, the full bar in the corner.
"This is insane," she whispers. "I've been sleeping in tents and now I'm on a private jet. What is my life?"
I smile. "Enjoy it while it lasts."
We settle into our seats. Tessa immediately pulls out her "THANK YOU" sign and holds it up to the flight attendant who brings us water.
The attendant blinks, smiles politely, and says, "You're welcome."
Tessa beams. "It works! Did you hear that, Iris? My English works!"
I laugh so hard I nearly spill my drink.
Ilay, sitting across from us, watches the whole exchange with a look of pure disbelief.
The plane takes off, and for the first time in a while, I actually feel excited. This is my first time going to America. Sure, the reason is shady as hell, chasing leads on an illegal case with a dangerous man, but still, I can't help the flutter in my stomach.
Ilay, surprisingly, is in a decent mood. He offers me a glass of wine, and I take it gladly. We chat a little. Well, he talks, mostly. Still has that smug tone, but at least he isn't being too weird for once.
Tessa, meanwhile, is in the back corner practicing her English with the flight attendant, holding up her signs and asking questions about American slang.
"What does 'yeet' mean?" she asks seriously.
The attendant tries not to laugh. "It's… well, it's like throwing something. Hard."
Tessa nods, writing it down in a little notebook. "Yeet. Got it."
I shake my head, smiling. This is going to be an interesting trip.
When we landed, I lit up like a child at Disney World. America. I was actually here.
As we walk-through the private terminal, Tessa held up her I AM TOURIST sign to a security guard. He laughs giving her a thumbs-up. "Welcome to America!" She practically glows. "Thank you!" she shouts back, fumbling with her words but grinning the whole time.
I pull out my phone, excited to use my translation app. Not that I don't understand English, I'm not terrible, but I'm not exactly fluent either. My mom is half Russian, half German, and she makes sure I can speak both fluently. English? Not so much. That one I am still working on.
So when the airport staff speaks to me, I jump at the chance to practice.
"Your luggage, ma'am."
"Thank you!" I say with a huge smile.
"This way, ma'am."
"Thank you!" Again, like I've just won an award.
Tessa is doing the same thing, except she is holding up her signs every time someone speaks to her.
"Do you need assistance?" She holds up her "THANK YOU" sign.
The staff member looks confused but nods politely.
I am dying laughing by the time we get to baggage claim.
Then someone asks Ilay in English, "Do you have any other bags, sir?
" And to my complete shock, he answers. In perfect, fluent, American-accented English.
"Yes, just the suitcase in the back." I blink at him. That voice. His Russian voice is all gravel and dominance, the kind that makes your spine straighten and your stomach twist. But his English voice? It is like a whole different person is speaking. "You speak English?" I ask, still stunned.
He glances at me, amused. "We didn't need it in Russia.
" Then he leans closer, his voice playful.
"But if you like my English voice… I can use it more.
Especially in the bedroom. Just say the word, baby.
" I swear, my soul leaves my body. If I were in an anime, black lines would be scribbled all over my face.
I just turn away, mumbling something like, "I regret asking. "
Tessa, who has been eavesdropping, bursts out laughing. "Oh my God, he's smooth in English too? That's not fair." Ilay chuckles. And with that, we get into the car, headed toward the inn we are staying at.
America, here we go.
By the time we get to the inn, I am already mentally checked out.
The drive has been quiet, with tension thick in the air between Ilay and me.
His bodyguards have peeled off earlier, heading to another location since this is the only decent place close enough to that hidden ranch in the forest. It looks more like a forgotten cabin than an actual inn, nestled in the middle of nowhere. Cozy, but rundown.
Ilay eyes the building with pure disgust. "Is this the best one here?" he mutters, wrinkling his nose. "We're really staying in this?" I shoot him a look. "I'm sorry, Your Majesty. But yes, this is the closest option to the ranch. Believe me, I'm not thrilled either."
He sighs, rubbing his jaw. "Fine."
Tessa, naturally, is thrilled. "This is so rustic! It's like the beginning of a slasher film."
"Please stop talking," I mutter.
As we approach the entrance, a car pulls up, and a tall man with ginger hair steps out. He looks lost but weirdly adorable, clutching a suitcase.
He spots us and smiles. "Excuse me, is this the Sweet Forest Inn?"
I open my mouth, but Ilay beats me to it with a grunt. "Yes."
"Oh, thank God," the guy laughs. "Thought I was gonna get lost out here."
The way Ilay looks at him? Whew. If looks could kill, that man would have dropped dead on the gravel. But to my surprise, the stranger doesn't even flinch. He just keeps his eyes on us, talking kindly, smiling. Then his eyes land on Tessa.
Tessa notices immediately. She crosses her arms, giving him the deadliest side-eye I have ever seen. "Can I help you?"
The guy blinks, flustered. "Oh, sorry, I didn't mean to—"
"Then stop staring," she snaps. He clears his throat, awkwardly holding the door open. "Ladies first." I smile back. "Thank you." Tessa walks in without acknowledging him, still giving him side-eye.
Inside, a friendly-looking woman at the counter greets us. "Welcome to Sweet Forest Inn. What kind of room would you like?"
I lean forward and say, "Two bedrooms, please."
Ilay cuts in immediately. "One room is fine. Your friend can sleep in the lobby. She loves tents."
There is a beat of silence. Then Tessa's head whips around so fast I think she'll get whiplash.
"Excuse me?" she says, her voice dangerously quiet. Ilay doesn't even look at her. "I said what I said." Tessa takes a step forward, fists clenched. "You arrogant, broke-shaming piece of—"
I jump in between them, hands up. "Whoa, whoa, whoa! Tessa, calm down."
"Calm down?" She points at Ilay. "This asshole just—"
"I know, I know," I say quickly.
Ilay mutters behind me, "What's the point of getting two rooms? You could stay in one with me. And Save us money."
I spin around. "Are you serious? You're a billionaire and you're whining over a few hundred dollars for a three-day stay?"
He raises a brow. "You could save the money and still enjoy my company. And not worry about the cold night air." The innkeeper, a sweet-looking older woman, chimes in helpfully. "Oh, sir, we have a working heater. All our rooms are quite warm."
Ilay frowns. I shoot him a triumphant look. "I'll take the cold night air and my sanity, thanks."
Tessa snorts. "You two argue like an old married couple."
The ginger-haired man behind us chuckles. "I was just thinking the same thing. Are you two dating or something?"
I wave my hands. "No! No, no, no. Definitely not. He's just… someone I unfortunately know."
Ilay clutches his chest in mock pain. "You wound me. Truly." The stranger laughs again, then offers a hand. "Name's Roman." I shake it and say in my broken English, "My name is Iris."
"You have an accent. Where are you from?" Before I can answer, Ilay jumps in. "Why are you prying into our private life?" Roman turns to him and smiles coolly. "You didn't introduce yourself, sir." Ilay straightens. "Ilay Ivanovich."
Roman's eyes light up with genuine recognition. "Ah, Russian! No wonder. I'm Russian too," he says, switching seamlessly to our native tongue.