Chapter 11
Chapter Eleven
Anna
I should leave.
At least right now, I shouldn't be here.
But my legs took root the second I saw him, nailed to the spot. I couldn't even lift them.
"We need to talk."
His voice hadn't changed much from years ago—low, rough, magnetic, wrapped in emotions I couldn't read. It made everything inside me tremble.
I opened my mouth, barely finding my voice. "We have nothing to talk about."
I clenched my hands at my sides, nails digging deep into my palms. The sharp pain pulled my scattering thoughts back together.
I moved to leave. One step, and his hand caught my wrist.
His palm was scorching hot, the heat searing through my thin skin like I'd been thrown into fire. I yanked back. He gripped tighter, his knuckles pressing against my wrist bone with enough force to crush it.
"Anna."
He said my name again, so low it seemed to crawl up from the back of his throat.
He took another step forward. This time his scent hit me full force—cedarwood, tobacco, clean soap. Exactly the same as years ago. Not a single note different.
All those memories I'd buried deep came flooding back. Candlelight in the garden, violin music, his hand in mine as we turned clumsy circles. Late-night sheets, the weight of him above me, his arm still wrapped around my waist when I woke.
God, what am I thinking?
Two voices fought in my head. One screaming at me to push him away, leave now. The other one gagged with cotton, frozen in place, staring at his face.
Ivan looked at Nadia. "Sweetheart, you should go upstairs and get your textbooks ready for your teacher."
Nadia nodded solemnly and headed upstairs with the housekeeper.
Just the two of us were left in the living room.
"Ivan..." My voice shook.
He lowered his head, his massive frame bearing down on me, swallowing all my air. His burning lips landed at the corner of my mouth, the pressure so heavy it felt like he wanted to grind me to pieces and embed me in his bones.
I couldn't stand.
I was going to collapse.
My back hit the cold marble wall. All my struggling turned into weak resistance. I turned my head to dodge his kiss. He got more frantic, trailing down from my mouth to bite my neck.
"Ah—"
I couldn't hold back the sharp intake of breath. Dull pain mixed with a barely detectable itch crawled up my spine. My tense limbs went soft.
His presence engulfed me. All the resolve I'd carefully gathered shattered against this familiar touch.
I closed my eyes. My nails loosened from my palms, and without control, my hands landed on his shoulders. The warm chest beneath the fabric matched the contours in my memory perfectly.
This chest.
He'd held another woman against it. He and that woman had speculated about me, belittled me, ground my careful feelings into dust.
That thought drove through me like an ice pick.
I opened my eyes and shoved him with everything I had.
He staggered back half a step, the corners of his eyes still flushed, his breathing still ragged. I stared at him, my chest heaving violently, my voice hoarse enough to crack. "Stop!"
"Ivan, we can't do this."
"Can't?" He stared at me, stepping forward again. I had nowhere to go, my back pressed hard against the wall, the cold marble digging into me painfully. "Anna, with me, there's no such thing as 'can't.'"
He moved closer again.
I squeezed my eyes shut in despair. Against absolute power, all my struggling was pointless.
"Hey, Dad, when are you sending the teacher up?"
Nadia's bright voice suddenly rang out from upstairs.
Relief washed over me.
Ivan's outstretched hand froze. His fingertips had already touched my cheek, but in that moment they went rigid, like he was using enormous force to stop himself from going further.
I pushed past him and headed for the stairs. My legs were still weak. I had to brace myself against the wall to stay upright.
Ivan reached out to steady me. I dodged to the side, avoiding his touch.
I heard him inhale sharply behind me, his voice still carrying that unsuppressed rasp. "Anna, you can't run from this."
I didn't look back. I climbed the stairs.
The wooden steps creaked softly under my feet. Each one felt like walking on cotton.
Upstairs, Nadia was leaning over the railing, looking down.
She tilted her head, her round eyes studying my face for several seconds before frowning. "Anna, why is your face so red?"
I smiled at her, trying to keep my voice steady. "It's a bit stuffy in here. Nadia, which subject do you want help with?"
She looked up at me. "Math."
Then she took my hand and led me to her room.
Her small hand wrapped around my finger. She walked exactly like she did when she was little.
"Anna," she said as we walked, "I have lots of little secrets I want to share with you."
"Really?" I followed her. "Let's finish your homework first, okay? We'll have plenty of time."
Nadia didn't refuse. She eagerly pulled out her workbook and spread it on the table, then dragged a small chair over for me to sit on.
I sat down and opened her math workbook, going through her assignments. She was truly brilliant. These problems were nothing to her—she grasped everything immediately. Every time I explained an example, she could solve all the variations that followed.
I pushed down the panic from downstairs and explained each problem carefully, as if focusing hard enough would make that kiss, that moment of weakness—all of it—disappear.
Between problems, I glanced at the doorway.
The door was ajar, leaving a narrow gap. Ivan's figure stood by the frame. He didn't come in, just leaned there casually, arms crossed over his chest. I didn't know how long he'd been standing there or how much he'd heard.
I looked away and continued teaching.
When Nadia finished the last problem and capped her pen, I looked up to find her resting her chin in her hands, smiling at me.
"Did you understand everything, sweetheart?"
"Anna," Nadia said, completely off topic. "You're even prettier than you were five years ago."
I was caught off guard by the random comment. Before I could respond, Nadia spoke again. "Will you stay and be my mommy?"
The air went still.
I looked at her. Those gray-brown eyes sparkled, pure and clean, filled with uncomplicated hope.
Nadia's words reminded me of something.
I wasn't alone. I had a son. And my son's father was Ivan. If Ivan found out about Alex, he would fight me for custody.
I couldn't lose Alex. He was my everything, my only family in this world.
"Anna, why aren't you saying anything?"
I snapped back, forcing a smile. "Nadia, I can't be your mommy."
"Why not?"
"Because I have a son. I have my own family now."
I deliberately raised my voice at the end, making sure the last part carried through that cracked door to the person standing behind it.
I didn't know how he'd react. Anger? Questions? Or nothing at all.
But I hoped that once he heard it, he'd stop bothering me.
The light in Nadia's face went out instantly. She pressed her lips together and said nothing, her small shoulders sagging.
Seeing her disappointment made my chest ache. I was about to say something to lighten the mood when—
The door swung open.
Ivan walked in. His face showed no emotion—couldn't tell if he was pleased or angry. He just walked over to Nadia. "Sweetheart, you should go get your teacher some juice."
Nadia mumbled an "okay" and shuffled past me out the door.
She pulled it shut behind her, but it didn't close completely. A narrow gap remained.
I lowered my eyes and started packing up the materials on the table, stuffing the lesson plans, workbook, and pencil case into my bag one by one. Before I could zip it, Ivan's hand pressed down on the edge of the table, blocking my way out.
He was too close.
Close enough that I could feel his warmth wrapping around me inch by inch. Close enough to see the tight line of his jaw.
A storm was gathering in those eyes, like a current that had been suppressed deep underwater, slowly rising to the surface.
"You have a child?"
"Yes." I zipped my bag. "He's four. Very sweet."
"And his father?" Each word seemed squeezed through clenched teeth. "Do you love him?"
My fingers tightened on the bag strap.
How could he ask that?
Did I love my child's father?
I didn't even have the courage to admit he was that father.
Right now, I could only straighten my back and answer with forced calm. "The kid's father and I had a one-night stand. Love doesn't come into it."
"Impossible." He denied it too fast—like a reflex. "Anna, you're not the kind of person who does one-night stands!"
Aren't I?
But isn't that how we started?
The auction, the price, one night.
He bought me. I handed over those nights. Fair exchange. Simple transaction.
I turned my face away, not daring to meet his eyes.
He gripped my chin, forcing me to look at him. "You're lying."
I slapped his hand away. "Why would I lie? Ivan, we're nothing to each other now. You can go ahead and check if you want. I can't lie about having a son."
In that instant, I could see Ivan's eyes turn red.
His breathing got heavier, each breath dragged up from deep in his throat.
All the air in the room felt sucked out. Light filtered through the window onto the floor, but it offered no warmth.
My head was buzzing.
Reason stretched like a taut wire, reminding me not to give in.
He had a wife, a family. I couldn't be the other woman. Especially when he and his wife had no respect for me. To them, I was just some gold-digging girl.
I continued. "I need to go home. Please move."
He didn't move. The cold air around him hit my face. "I don't believe you."
My heart clenched.
What was he holding onto?
I bit my lower lip, swallowing back the heart trying to leap out of my chest. "What's not to believe? Don't forget how we met."
I pushed against his chest, trying to squeeze out of this suffocating pressure. "I could do it with you, I could do it with others, too."