19. Hawke
Hawke
T he moment she hangs up, my recently updated screensaver, a picture of her sleeping, appears on my phone. I know if she finds out, she’ll yell at me, but I don’t give a flying fuck. It was the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.
Before she left my place, she must’ve stolen back the keycard to her apartment that I’d stolen from Ford.
So here I am, at her door, knocking like a gentleman.
Or something along those lines. I considered climbing up the fire escape, but since she’s on a popular street in Manhattan, I didn’t want others noticing me and giving her a heads-up, which would ruin the whole surprise.
So instead, I’m holding a bouquet of flowers and wearing a collared shirt, which I fucking hate.
I knock once. Then twice. I look at the time on my phone.
Hopefully, she hasn’t left already. I go to knock a third time, and the door swings open before my knuckles can connect.
She’s wearing shorts so short that I know I’ll see the bottom of her ass cheeks when she spins and a shirt that just covers her tits, which I know are the perfect handful.
Her gaze narrows on the flowers. “What are those?”
“For your mother, when we go over for dinner.”
She crosses her arms over her chest. “Hawke, you’re not coming with me for dinner at my parents’ house.”
I shove past, and into her apartment, not deterred whatsoever. “If there’s free food involved, Ivy, I’ll be there. I don’t give a shit whose parents they are. What time are we heading over there?”
I know her mother. Alina won’t have an issue with me coming over.
I love her mother. As a teenager, I used to watch her steal things from her husband.
She’d giggle and wink at me when I’d notice what she did far before he would.
While my mother isn’t particularly close with Ivy’s family, my uncle Alek and Will are, in a surprising way, considering their different temperaments, best friends.
That grace was never passed over to me because her dad can’t fucking stand me.
She throws her hands in the air, frustrated, and I know I’ve gotten my way. My gaze dips to her ass. Yep, as perfect as I thought she would look.
“Stop looking at me like that,” she chastises as I follow her down the hallway to her room. It’s dark in here; three computer screens giving off the only light.
“Like what?” I ask, raising a brow.
“Like you want to eat me,” she says with her back to me as she removes her shirt. The fucking tease. She throws another top on.
“Well, I haven’t had dessert,” I say matter-of-factly, basically salivating at the sight of her curves.
“Gosh, you’re annoying.” She goes to remove her shorts, but then looks over her shoulder at me. “Do you mind?”
“You love it,” I smirk as I turn my back, still awkwardly holding the bouquet of flowers.
I once bought flowers for my mother on her birthday.
She looked at me like I’d grown a second head, unsure of what she was supposed to do with them and forgetting the fact it was her birthday.
As far as Anya Ivanov is concerned, she doesn’t age.
To be fair, she doesn’t look like she’s aged since she first adopted us.
“My dad’s going to be pissed if I bring you,” she says as I stare at the wall.
“As if you’re not excited by that,” I reply, imagining that she’s smiling right now.
I wanted to make sure she was okay after Friday night. I know Ivy is a strong woman, but the fact that she hasn’t yet told anyone else about what happened, at least not that I’m aware of, doesn’t sit right with me. I want to be here if she does need to talk about it.
But I’m not so wholesome. I’m also a completely selfish asshole. Sleeping beside Ivy for only those few hours was the first time in months I hadn’t been haunted by nightmares. It was a fucking miracle, and I wonder if somehow this little viper is my cure.
I’m desperate for peace, and I can’t deny the fact that she’s one of the people I have fun with the most. She’ll eventually push me away once she gets fed up with me, but if I can have some fun until then, then why wouldn’t I put on one of my best-collared shirts and bring flowers to her mother?
Especially if I get free food out of it.
She walks past me, her hips swaying in a flowing skirt, and I admire her ass as she does. I like Ivy’s fashion sense because she doesn’t have only one style. Every time I see her, she’s wearing something different. It very much matches her playful nature.
“You’re driving, then,” she says, grabbing her phone off the counter. I look around her home. It’s emptier now that Billie has moved out. Two bowls and spoons are sitting on the coffee table alongside an empty bag of chips. I never noticed it before, but she’s a bit of a chaotic mess.
She’s waiting for me at the door. “You just going to gawk, or do you actually want to be fed?”
“Just checking things out,” I say as I step through the door. She has to move to the side, as do most people when I’m often the width of the door.
I like her apartment; it’s not too flashy or oversized, unlike my own home. I wanted to get the biggest house when I had enough money to buy a place outright. Anya then helped me fill it up with furniture because… well, besides my gym and bedroom, I didn’t think that far.
“I’m telling you, this is going to be a disaster,” Ivy singsongs as we head to the elevator. We turn to one another with matching mischievous expressions.
“Just make sure your dad doesn’t shoot me.”
“No promises, Mr. Ivanov. I don’t know what you did to piss him off, but he really can’t stand you. I can’t wait. But that’s the only reason I’m letting you come with me.” She’s quick to add, “Don’t tell anyone I was nice to you, or it’ll ruin my reputation.”
I pretend to zip my lips and lock them. “Your secret is safe with me, Ivy Walker.”