Chapter 23 – Poppy
“Here’s the beef tripe you special ordered, Mrs. Mladenov,” the butcher squeaked, rushing from behind the counter.
A bubble of guilt fizzled in my gut, the feeling reminiscent of drinking a lemon-lime soda too fast.
“Thanks!” I chirped, snatching it and trying to rush away.
“And it’s grass-fed beef,” the butcher added, blocking me. “Tell Mr. Mladenov I hope he enjoys it. Whatever you need, you come to me.”
“Thanks, again. Will do!” I hurried to set the paper-wrapped package in the cart.
Brady watched me. “Why did he call you tatko’s name?”
“It’s…complicated.” It didn’t have to be. I could just take the damn name and use it without remorse. But it was the fact that I’d schemed to use it at all that made my stomach feel full of popping, restless bubbles.
They didn’t have the ingredient I needed the other day.
They wouldn’t special order it. And the words ‘Ivan Mladenov will be disappointed to hear he’s not getting his favorite dish for supper’ just slipped out.
Now I had several employees at the local grocery store eating out of the palm of my hand.
What was the harm in a little fib? It worked. They’d assumed, and I hadn’t corrected.
I would probably take advantage of it again.
“Are felicitations in order, Poppy?” a voice asked behind me.
Stifling a squeak, I whipped around. “Mr. Dallas—”
“Please, it’s Steve to my friends.”
My smile felt weak. “We have to be going. I have a Shkembe Chorba to cook.”
“Sem Cobra? What’s that?” The commissioner wrinkled his nose.
“It’s my tatko’s favorite soup,” Brady informed him. “Shkembe Chorba.”
I beamed at my son’s perfect pronunciation. The crash courses in Bulgarian were easier for him, much to the guards’ delight. Kiril, in particular, had taken to talking to him in the native tongue. I struggled with the non-romance language, but I was determined to learn the basics.
“Sure, kid, whatever.” The commissioner turned to me. “I thought I’d find you here.”
Dread prickled along my spine.
“Come on, Brady. We gotta go, bud.” I grabbed his hand, the one that was losing the last bit of pudge and becoming the hand of a child, not a toddler.
He was a big boy. He didn’t deserve to be talked to like that.
I wasn’t giving Steve the time of day. My boy and I had cooking lessons to get to in the kitchen, followed by a few chapters of The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe.
“I can help you, you know,” the commissioner said behind me.
Pushing the cart, I ignored him. Whatever he was here for, I wasn’t interested. I shot a careful look around, but Boris liked to wait in the truck. And today was no different. He hadn’t come inside.
“Hey, Poppy, wait up!” The commissioner jogged after me. “I have a proposal for you.”
I’m so freaking tired of those!
Taking a deep breath, I met his gaze while continuing to the checkout lanes. “For your own health, Mr. Dallas, go on with your day and pretend you didn’t see me.”
“Help me tie the noose around Mladenov’s neck, and I promise you’ll be free of him.” There was a spark of malice glittering in the commissioner’s eyes.
I stopped and lowered my voice. “Why in the heck would I do that?”
“Because Ivan brought you here against your will.” The commissioner dropped his gaze quickly to my naked fingers. “Unless you like being Mrs. Mladenov.”
I wasn’t. And I don’t want to be.
The thought felt funny. Just like every other time I tried to sort my feelings out when it came to the Bulgarian mobster. Right now was not the time to examine that feeling.
“What you’re saying is suicide,” I hissed. “Now go away.”
“Mama?” Brady watched me.
Crap. The boy adored his father. He’d just heard me consider treason.
“Let’s bake some ginger snaps,” I said, redirecting his train of thought. I tugged him along, going to the express lane. We had nine items, and the sooner we were outside, the sooner this raincloud would back off.
“Just think about what you want in life,” the commissioner murmured, grabbing my cart. “Give me a call. We’re friends, right, Poppy?”
“Yes, fine, whatever,” I snapped. I would say anything to make him leave.
His grin was lewd. “Always a pleasure to see you. Take care, squirt!”
Brady shot him a perplexed look.
Mercifully, the commissioner left.
“I don’t like him,” Brady confided.
I gazed after the sliding doors. “Me neither, buddy.”
It wasn’t until we were safe in the kitchen that the full weight of the encounter hit me. I gripped the counter tight, taking deep breaths with the sudden realization that in my rush to leave the slimy businessman, I inadvertently gave him the thing he was after.
“But it’s not like I have a phone to call him,” I muttered.
Brady helped Boris bring in the bags behind me. I stood straight, gathering myself.
“It’s going to take this a couple of hours to simmer,” I explained, going to fill the stock pot with the filtered water system. “Why don’t you go ride bike until it’s ready?”
“Okay, mama.” Brady tore off, taking the guard with him.
He sees these men as his friends.
I salted the water and dropped the piece of beef stomach into the pot.
The Made Men would cut me out of the picture and carry on happily with their lives. I was only here for Brady.
This isn’t the happily ever after I wanted.
But it was fast becoming my son’s.
I scrubbed my hands into my hair. The braid loosened, and whisps fluttered around my face.
“If you want your hair pulled,” murmured temptation incarnate.
Saints above! He hadn’t spoken to me like this since the bookstore. In fact, it had been days of a word or two here and there. The fresh scent whispered around me, warm and spicy. I inhaled the mixture of mint and man before turning…and smacking into him.
“Something’s troubling you.” It wasn’t a question.
I plastered a huge smile on my face. “It’ll pass.”
“Hmm.” The rich sound played like music, just for me. Warmth responded, spreading between my legs, and coiling to the tips of my toes. “Let me help.”
Gently, Ivan turned me back to the counter. His hands rested on my shoulder, giving me a second to pull away if I wanted.
I leaned into his touch.
That was all the permission he needed. Those strong, deadly fingers began to dig into my muscles. With practiced precision, Ivan worked the knots from my muscles.
“Isn’t it early for you to be awake?” I asked, my eyes fluttering closed.
A short laugh breathed behind me. “Would you believe me if I said I was lonely in there?”
Another pulse of heat thrummed in my core. “No. Because you can’t be lonely when asleep.”
The moment I said it, I realized it could be true.
“I wasn’t sleeping.” Ivan spoke quietly, almost as if the confession cost him. “I was staring at the ceiling.”
“Is something troubling you?” I asked kindly.
Virgin Mother, that pressure felt good. The tight muscles relaxed, the knots of tension eased.
“Yes.”
“Well?” I demanded after a pause.
Ivan brushed his fingers down my spine, while the other hand remained on my shoulder, pushing on a particularly tight spot.
“I’m being driven mad, Poppy.” That hand inched around my waist. “A slow, torturous descent into insanity.”
Yet another reason not to stay.
But I couldn’t bring myself to pull away. I didn’t want there to be distance between us. If I wasn’t holding onto the counter for dear life, I would have spun around and wrapped my arms protectively around his neck.
The instinct to comfort him was natural.
“What’s bothering you?” I insisted.
“You,” came the quick response.
I bit my lip. “Me?”
Ivan pulled me against his solid frame. I felt every hard inch of him. “I want you, more than I have wanted anything. I used to starve, you know?”
I blanched. “What?”
Ivan nodded. “There wasn’t a store, and if there was, we wouldn’t have had the money to buy anything. I used to give my food to my siblings and my grandmother, making sure they ate. I know hunger. I craved food.”
Tears sprung to my eyes.
“But that was nothing compared to wanting you.” His confession whispered against my ear.
“You don’t mean that,” I choked.
Ivan splayed his hand over my belly. “I want you the way a man needs a woman. I think of you as mine, but here you stand. In my home. Not wearing my ring. And—”
He stopped short.
“And?” I whispered.
He chuckled darkly. “I wish Brady was ours. That can’t be changed. But…he would be a good big brother, don’t you think?”
This time the heat drenched my panties. Wicked ideas consumed me. Feeling Ivan inside me, bare inside me. Giving me the one thing I dreamed of most.
That was why I had a child, after all. I wanted a family.
And here was a man, offering me everything.
Everything but himself.
He didn’t love me. Wanted me, cared for me, protected me—all good things. But he wasn’t the piece my soul was missing. The puzzle of my life would still be incomplete.
“Does that scare you?” Ivan pushed himself against me, angling his body so that his cock pressed against my body.
No!
Yes….
“Maybe a little,” I murmured.
“And yet you turned me down, condemned me to torment.” His accent thickened.
And spoke to a business rival, possibly committing treason. Yup, I was in over my head.
The only self-defense mechanism I knew sprang to my aid. “You haven’t spoken to me. In days. And then, what?” I snapped. “You can’t sleep, and you come unload that on me? That you want to get me pregnant!”
I stopped when I realized my voice was high and squeaky.
Ivan shrugged. “My proposal didn’t convince you. I thought honesty might.”
It was brutally shocking. I didn’t know what to say.
A man doesn’t suggest starting a family unless he feels something, right?
A small voice in the back of my mind reminded me that he didn’t believe in love. And there were plenty of children born between parents who weren’t in love. Hell! Brady was one of them.
“Ivan, I—”
“Don’t, little flower.” He nuzzled his nose against the curve of my neck before stepping back. “Don’t do that to me again.”
Ivan stepped back, and I staggered.
“Here.” Ivan dropped my phone on the kitchen table. “My men are tired of you begging to use their internet shopping accounts. If you have things you need to order for the house, use yours. My card is already loaded into your shopping wallet.”
I blinked rapidly. The rollercoaster of emotions was more than my heart could take. It pattered wildly in my chest. Like a mummy, I reached out for the device.
“Is that…?” Ivan peered into the stock pot.
“Oh, Brady said it was your favorite,” I said absently, swiping my fingers over the screen. “Can I…can I message some people?”
Ivan shrugged. “It’s your phone.”
Freedom. That was what he was giving me.
The gesture came with a leash, but it felt surreal to suddenly be attached to the world once more.
Ivan disappeared back into his room without another word.
But his revelation, that he saw us as a family, that he wanted me for more than quick satisfaction, made it hard to focus on anything on the screen.
I closed it, leaned back in the chair, and laced my fingers over my belly. Brady would make a good older brother. A family of my own sounded like a dream come true. But Ivan wasn’t the one I saw when I painted that picture.
Why not? He was hot. He was capable. The age difference was there, but it didn’t feel off.
I chewed my bottom lip and stared at his door. Maybe his jaded outlook was right. Perhaps it was naive to think love was a requirement to marry and have babies. He was offering me everything I wanted on a silver tray. I only had to reach out and take it.
I kept my feet firmly planted on the floor and opened the app. A vicious round of shopping, finding things for the kitchen, new dishes, and other things I could live without—like throw pillows—consumed my afternoon.
And kept me from knocking on the kingpin’s closed door.
Scooping the last of the soup into an ancient orange Tupperware that would be replaced when the packages began arriving tomorrow, I jumped when my phone rang. I looked between the device and the man loading the dishwasher.
Ivan set another bowl in the bottom rack. “Your phone’s ringing.”
“I know, I—”
My teeth sank into my lip. Was this what it’d come down to? Me asking permission to take a call? I wasn’t sure if my kidnapper would allow it.
But…screw him.
It was my phone. He’d given it back to me. If he didn’t want me to answer it, he could try and stop me.
He didn’t.
“Hello?” I stammered, finger sliding over the green button just in time.
“Poppy!” Penelope choked. “Are you still in Chicago?”
Alarm bells pealed at her tone. Time slowed, and the mobster, the kitchen, and the chaos of my personal life fell away.
“Yes,” I breathed. “What happened, Penny?”
“Can you come over?” she sobbed. “I’m…I’m…bleeding.”
“I’ll be there in twenty minutes.” I slammed the phone down.
Ivan glared at me. “I didn’t—”
“Stop it.” I pulled myself up straight. “You say such passionate things; you think playing with my desire will win you points, but if you’re serious about wanting me, you’ll let me go to her.”
Those lips I spent an ungodly amount of time thinking about thinned.
“Brady is playing right now. I’ll be back before his bedtime, but please, Ivan.
She needs me.” I didn’t dare form the words.
I knew in my heart what had happened. If it was a bullet or anything else that spilt her blood, Alessandro would have taken care of it.
But she said bleeding, and she was calling me.
“I have to go,” I insisted.
Ivan stood for a moment, staring me down.
Then, without a word, he stalked to his room.
I was practically dancing on my toes, ready to scream.
I bit my tongue, forcing myself to wait and see what he was doing.
When he came back, he held his hand out.
I dove for the keys, but he gripped my fingers in his.
“I am serious.” He held me. “About everything.”
I snatched my hand back. I didn’t have time for that. I opted for a simple answer.
“Thank you, Ivan.”
He nodded. “Hurry home, Poppy.”
Home….
Damn him, I had a lot to think about, and right now, there was no time to sort through any of it.