Chapter 34 – Ivan
IVAN
Icarried Isabella through the door to my quarters, her body light yet solid against my chest. Her head rested against my shoulder, her breath warm against my neck. The violent rocking of the speedboat had probably drained what little energy she had left after her ordeal with Moretti and Grey.
With every step away from everybody else, the tightness in my chest loosened, but my grip on her never did as if she might vanish if I loosened my hold even slightly. How close I’d come to losing her. How easily Moretti could have—
I cut the thought off.
She was here. Safe. In my arms. Just holding her was enough.
Once inside, I locked the door. What next?
“You can put me down,” she murmured against my neck. “I can walk.”
“I know you can.” I didn’t loosen my grip, though. “I know.” But the feel of her against my chest had become a reassurance I wasn’t willing to surrender yet. “Let me just hold you.”
She didn’t protest further, her fingers curling into the fabric of my shirt. The gesture wasn’t desperate, just…present. As if she needed the confirmation I was really there. Or maybe she gave me the reassurance I needed.
We were safe now, but my body hadn’t received the message yet.
It took a while until the dripping of our soaking-wet clothes pulled me out of my temporary daze. We were leaving a puddle on the floor.
I carried her over and nudged the bathroom door with my foot, then maneuvered us through the narrow space without jostling her.
“Bath or shower?” I asked, my voice sounding rougher than intended. How was it that every single interaction between us always led us to the bathroom?
She hesitated. “Bath, I think. I’m too tired to stand.”
I nodded and gently set her on the edge of the counter. Her eyes followed me as I moved to the tub, turning the taps to get the temperature right.
Steam began rising, fogging the mirror.
“Don’t move,” I said, stepping back into my bedroom to grab a couple of clothes for us. When I returned, she was exactly where I’d left her, watching me with those intelligent eyes that missed nothing.
The silence stretched between us, comfortable rather than awkward.
The storm outside provided a constant backdrop of sound—rain lashing against the windows, thunder occasionally shaking the building.
I focused on the task at hand rather than the storm of my own thoughts—thoughts about Grey escaping, about the look on Moretti’s face, his hands on Isabella.
About Anton and Chris rescuing Cara, and then my clash with Director Kozlova because she had the motivation, abilities, and power to make my future life hell.
I tested the water temperature with my hand. Perfect. Then I poured a measure of Epsom salts into the water, followed by a measure of bath salts. The scent of lavender and eucalyptus filled the small space.
Isabella raised an eyebrow. “You’ve been holding out on me. Didn’t expect you to have bath salts.”
“Muscle recovery,” I said, testing the water temperature again. “Helps with soreness after a long day.”
She smiled slightly. “Of course. Very tactical bath salts.”
I smiled back.
How drastically my priorities had shifted in just days. A week ago, I had been the Paraskia’s perfect operative.
Focused. Controlled. Effective.
Now I had abandoned everything to be with a woman I’d known for less than a week. A woman who belonged to a family that had been on our watchlist for decades. A woman who, by all objective measures, should be my enemy.
Yet here I was, measuring bath salts with the precision of someone defusing a bomb.
I glanced up and found her watching me with genuine curiosity. Her hair was beginning to dry in wild strands around her face, and a bruise was forming along her jawline. My jaw tightened at the sight, but I kept my expression even.
“Do the deadly Zotovs ever take bubble baths?”
A small smile tugged at my lips despite everything. “Only the sophisticated ones.”
“So let me guess, we’re talking about Nina and Mila, right?” Her eyebrow arched slightly.
“You have no idea—compared to Anton and Roman? I’m sophistication personified.” The light moment felt incongruous with everything that had happened but necessary somehow.
The tub filled quickly. I turned off the taps and stood, suddenly uncertain. This was the second time I was running a bath for her. The second time she was in my care. Nothing in my life had prepared me for the simple intimacy of feeling so damn much for someone.
But Isabella was mine now. My top priority. Not Grey. Not the mission. Not the Paraskia.
Just her.
My teenage years had been about survival, and everything after that had been about loyalty, about putting the mission first. Yet choosing her over everything else felt like the first right decision I’d made in my life.
“You’re thinking very loudly,” she said softly.
I met her gaze. “Just processing.”
“Any regrets?”
The question carried weight beyond the simple words: Regrets about choosing her over Grey? About resigning from the Paraskia? About everything that had happened between us?
Hell no.
“None,” I answered honestly. The bath was ready, steam curling invitingly from the surface. “Can you manage, or do you need help?”
Isabella slid down from the counter, wincing slightly.
She met my eyes, something vulnerable flickering in her gaze. “Maybe.”
I approached slowly, giving her time to change her mind.
When she didn’t pull away, I gently helped her remove the wet clothes.
Bruises on her upper arms stood out starkly against her pale skin.
Something dark and violent stirred in my chest at the sight, but I pushed it down.
Later. I would deal with Moretti later. My fingers brushed against her skin, and I felt her shiver slightly.
Whether from cold or my touch, I couldn’t tell.
The intimacy of the moment wasn’t lost on me. This wasn’t about sex—it was far more. This was about care. Trust. Vulnerability. Things I’d systematically avoided in my life until Isabella Salvini had crashed into it.
When she stood before me, completely bare, I kept my eyes on hers. Not because her body didn’t affect me—it did, painfully so—but because this moment demanded something more than desire. It demanded respect.
I offered my hand, helped her step into the steaming water. She sank down with a soft gasp, the water rising around her.
“Too hot?” I asked.
“Perfect,” she murmured, then leaned back against the tub’s edge and closed her eyes. “Though it would be more perfect if you stopped hovering like a bodyguard and joined me.”
I hesitated, torn between my desire to hold her close and self-discipline.
As if reading my thoughts, Isabella sighed. “I’m not proposing we have sex in the bathtub, Ivan. I just…” She paused, vulnerability flickering across her face. “I want to be as close to you as humanly possible.”
That simple admission broke something loose inside me. I nodded once and began removing my own clothes, methodically. When I finally stepped into the tub across from her, the heat of the water was a welcome shock against my tense muscles.
For several long moments, we simply sat in silence, the steam rising between us.
I studied her face, noting the exhaustion in her eyes, the tension she still carried in her shoulders despite the hot water.
The bruise along her jaw was darkening already.
My fingers curled into fists beneath the water, imagining what I would do to the men who had hurt her.
“I’m sorry,” I said finally, the words feeling strange on my tongue.
Her eyebrows rose slightly. “For what exactly?”
“For after…” I hesitated, searching for the right words. “After our night together. I was cold. Distant.” I rarely apologized. Even more rarely explained myself. But Isabella deserved both.
Understanding dawned in her eyes. “When you wouldn’t look at me the next day?”
I nodded. “I didn’t know how best to handle the situation. I’m not used to…”
“Bathing with beautiful women?” A flash of her usual sarcasm though the smile didn’t quite reach her eyes. “I remember you telling me that’s what you usually do with your women.”
I narrowed my brows, but I couldn’t even muster an ounce of annoyance.
“I’m not used to being loved by someone.
To feeling…” I didn’t even know if this was the moment to confess, but I pushed on.
“I’ve spent my life making sure I didn’t care too much about anything or anyone. It’s what made me effective.”
“And I’m making you ineffective.” It wasn’t a question.
“You’re making me human.” The truth slipped out before I could filter it.
Isabella’s eyes widened slightly, but she recovered quickly, her expression softening. “And you don’t like to be human?”
“No.” I met her gaze directly.
The word hung between us, weightier than I’d expected. I’d never admitted this to anyone, not even my siblings.
“Why not?” Her voice was gentle, encouraging.
I looked away, fixing my gaze on the steam curling from the water. “It means you feel fear.”
“Fear of what?”
“Of needing you? Of how quickly you became important to me. Of what that meant for everything I’d built my life around. Of love.”
Her hand emerged from the water, droplets trailing down her arm as she traced her finger along the surface of the water.
“It’s never black and white in our world, is it?” she said softly. “Not when you’re used to working in the shadows. Not when you fall for your enemy.”
I watched the ripples her finger created, spreading across the water between us.
“Not ideal starting conditions for a relationship.”
I took her hand in mine, studying the contrast between us, her elegant fingers against my calloused palm. “I love you, Shorty. And that changes everything.”
“It certainly does.” She leaned her head back against the edge of the tub. “I withdrew, too,” she admitted. “After that night. I was scared of what it meant that I’d let you that close. That I felt so much so soon. And when you behaved as if nothing happened—I…kinda overreacted.”