Chapter 20 – Ivan #2
I studied her profile as she concentrated on the documents, struck by the sharpness of her mind, the determination in her expression. “How smart are you?”
She looked up. “Not that smart.”
Now it was my place to call bullshit. “Your file tells a different story.”
“My file? What else does my file say?” she asked without looking up.
This was it. This was the moment to tell her the truth about our intertwined past?
Was I ready to tell her? It wasn’t like she needed to know—not that it would change anything.
On the contrary. My past, the things that had made me who I was today, weren’t pretty or remotely normal.
I didn’t grow up with a family that loved me, unlike her.
Would she even be able to comprehend? Could she even imagine what kind of monster those experiences had shaped me into?
And once she knew, would it change the way she looked at me?
Probably.
And she would be right. She deserved better. Deserved a man worthy of her.
I rubbed my hand through my hair. I was jumping the fence here, wasn’t I? We’d known each other for only a couple of days. Had kissed twice, hadn’t even had sex yet.
Where was this obsession coming from then?
I sighed and stared at her.
I knew.
Deep down, I knew why I was reluctant to tell her. I didn’t want her to look at me differently. I wanted her to turn to me for help, for protection, for safety. I wanted to have her buried beneath me, begging for my dick. And even after having her, I would want more—I would want everything.
I kept looking at her, her drying hair, which hid her beautiful heart-shaped face, the line of her long, delicate neck, which fit perfectly in the palm of my hand.
So, this is what it felt like to be obsessed with someone.
Because with her, I didn’t just want the physical stuff.
I wanted her to be mine.
I wanted everything. Forever.
The “white picket fence, a couple of kids, dogs, cats, lazy mornings in bed, sex on the kitchen counter” type of forever.
Most of which I’d never even considered before.
She must have felt my gaze because she looked up, those dark eyes questioning. “What is it?”
The words formed in my throat, heavy with implications. “There’s something you should know about me. About who I am.” Something to shut down any possibility of a future.
“I’m listening.”
I took a deep breath, preparing to reveal a part of myself I rarely acknowledged, even in the privacy of my own thoughts.
“You ever hear of the Gladiators?” I asked.
She raised an eyebrow. “Duh…of course, I’m Italian, plus I’ve seen the movie…but what does that have to do with anything? Are you stalling? Or are you trying to change the topic?”
I stared at my hands, seeing the scars covered by ink that mapped my knuckles, remembering how I’d earned each one.
“Imagine the Colosseum is some dump underground place built during World War II,” I said, my voice dropping lower.
“Imagine the gladiators are kids who just drew a shitty hand in life, and the wild animals…well, you don’t need wild animals if you can create them.
” I looked up, looked her straight in the eyes—time to face the music.
Her expression sobered as she began to understand where this was going.
“You just need to treat those kids badly enough,” I continued, the words spilling out now.
“You need to starve them, you need to beat them, you need to burn them until they want to rip the skin from their bones themselves, and then you need to give them exactly one chance to survive—an opportunity to prove that they’re stronger, that their will to survive is stronger…
or maybe that they’re just more broken than the other kids. ”
Her face had gone pale. “What are you saying?”
I looked back down at my fists. “I’m saying I’ve fought for my life so many times, I can’t even remember all those kids’ faces that died through my own bare hands.
” The confession burned like acid in my throat, but she needed to know.
“I’m saying there’s nothing I could do that would be adequate to repent for my sins. ”
I laughed—a dry laugh—because even after escaping that hell-hole, my path in life hadn’t led to repenting anything. The opposite, really. I’d piled onto my sins until there was not a chance in hell—nothing worth salvaging.
I looked up and locked eyes with her. “I’m saying you’ve never met anyone as bad, as morally bankrupt as me. I’m saying you should take your family and run. And never look back.”
I expected disgust. Horror. Fear. Any rational response to the monster I’d just revealed myself to be.
“And what if I don’t?” she asked instead, her voice as steady as her eyes locked with mine.
A laugh escaped me—dry, crackly, as if there was tar in my lungs, as black as the picture I’d just revealed. “I’ll just have to give your brothers a call, and you’re off this island faster than you can count to 100.”
“Good thing then I suck at math,” she replied without missing a beat.
I stared at her, completely stuck on her dark brown eyes. “Shorty…Iset,” I said, using her hacker name deliberately, “if there’s one thing I know you don’t suck at, it’s math. So don’t even pretend. Let’s just leave it at this and part ways amicably. Be a smart girl.”
She cocked her head to the side, then scrunched her nose. “Apparently, I’m not that smart either,” she said, moving closer instead of away.
I narrowed my eyes, feeling cornered by her recklessness. “You’re scary smart, blindingly beautiful, and breathtakingly annoying. And if you don’t stop antagonizing me, I’ll show you what kind of man I really am.”
“What kind of man are you?” she challenged, leaning into my space.
I growled, then bridged the gap until my nose met hers. “The one that drags you into his cave, gags you, and does whatever he wants with you.” The threat came out harsher than intended, a desperate attempt to make her understand the danger, the massive black hole I was.
“Hmm. I’m down,” she said simply and, before she moved back, gave me a peck on the nose as if I was five years old.
And everything inside of me went completely still. Even my brain stopped working for a moment. I sighed, closed my eyes briefly. “You’re what?”
When I opened them again, she was reaching for my hand. Intertwined her fingers with mine in a deliberate gesture of connection that shook me to my core.
God have mercy…
“This is what I heard. You did what you had to do to survive,” she said softly. “And you probably protected your siblings while doing so. There’s zero shame in that.”
Her understanding blindsided me. No one outside my family had ever looked at me or my past without some kind of judgment. Yet here she was, this fierce, brilliant woman, looking right through the monster to the broken child beneath.
She moved closer, her free hand coming up to rest against my cheek. The gentle touch sent an electric current through my body, more powerful than any kiss we’d shared.
“You might’ve been a wild animal or a fighting machine as a child,” she said, her eyes never leaving mine, “but as a grown man—you’ve proven to be so much more than that. I see you for who you really are, Ivan. Beyond the scowl. Beyond the barking.”
Something cracked inside me—a fissure in the walls I’d built around my heart. I remained perfectly still, afraid that any movement might break this fragile moment.
“I became Iset because I needed power in a world where I felt powerless,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. “I did things that weren’t legal because sometimes, that was the only way to feel I mattered.”
Her thumb stroked my cheekbone, the simple touch anchoring me as her words washed over me.
“Sometimes, survivors become criminals, and sometimes, they become predators because they have to,” she continued. “But we don’t have to be that. Not with each other.”
I stared at her in disbelief. “After everything I’ve told you, you should be running.”
Her lips curved into a small smile. “I’m done running. Actually, I really hate running—don’t have the body for it.” Her smile deepened before she turned serious again. “So I choose to stay right here. With you.”
The barriers I’d maintained for years—the professional distance, the emotional walls, the careful compartmentalization of my life—crumbled completely in that moment. For the first time since I was a child, I allowed myself to be truly me. To be truly seen.
I leaned forward and pulled her file out of the stacks of files.
I needed to show her. Needed her to know about the past. About how my fate and hers were intertwined.
I was actually surprised she hadn’t made the connection yet.
“There’s a part I didn’t tell you. Something that put you onto Grey’s radar.
Because he’s been watching you for a long time. ”
She nodded. “I know about the past. He told me all about it. We can worry about that later. Right now, we need to find out what exactly is in the Paraskia database that has Grey so desperate,” she said.
She knew? He told her? Or did she make the connection already? And it wasn’t even important enough for her to talk to me about it?
A knock at the door interrupted us. I rose to answer it, not surprised to find a scowling Vince Salvini standing there with Mira, Matt, and Jemma behind him. Mira held a bundle of clothes, presumably for Isabella.
“All of you didn’t need to come,” I said.
Vince’s eyes narrowed. “If I want to check on my sister, I will do so. Don’t need your permission, asshole.” He took a step until we were face to face, both scowling.
And before I could step aside to let them enter, Isabella rose from the sofa. “Stop it. I’m fine. Really.”
Mira pushed both Vince and me to the side and crossed the room in record time, while the rest spilled into the room, as well, and Matt closed the door.
Mira handed Shorty the clothes with a concerned smile. “We were so worried.”
The sisters hugged.