Lily
Iopen my eyes to find Ivan standing over me, a tray full of fresh fruits, coffee, and oatmeal in his hands. His green eyes sparkle in the natural sunlight streaming through the translucent curtains, and the corners of his mouth turn up in a smile as I sit up.
“What’s all of this?” I ask as he hands me the tray.
“Breakfast, darling. I don’t want you going out on an empty stomach,” he replies, moving over to the window and pulling the curtains open.
A solid golden beam falls over the bed, bending over the sheets that are tangled at my feet. Normally, I’d be shy to be naked in front of someone who is fully clothed, but Ivan makes me feel so comfortable. Even though he’s large and imposing, the way he moves is gentle and caring.
I take a deep breath, smiling a bit as I become adjusted to being awake. I slept like I was dead last night, totally exhausted by the evening of passion I shared with Ivan. I didn’t know I could be fucked in that many positions, and for that amount of time. I swear I lost track of how many orgasms I had, and how he gave them to me.
Now, I’m getting breakfast in bed. It’s like a dream come true. The dream part is especially accurate because I know I’m going to wake up from it. This can’t last forever. In fact, it won’t last much longer than a few more hours.
The realization spoils my appetite, but I don’t want to turn down such a lovely breakfast from Ivan, so I eat it regardless. The coffee is amazing, and the fruit tastes like it was picked just minutes before it was sliced and put on my plate.
Ivan confirms this as he plucks a strawberry from my tray and pops it into his mouth. “These are just coming into season. In another month or two, the garden will be in full swing, and you can live off the land for the entire summer if you want.”
“Sounds lovely,” I say, dread building in my stomach. I can tell he’s trying to convince me to stay, but it’s simply not possible. I can’t leave my job, my normal life, for the Bratva. It would be an act of suicide, and I’m not that depressed. I still have hope that I can go back to normal, forgetting about the Bratva and Dimitri’s connection while I mourn him.
In a few years, this will be nothing more than a faint memory, a wild time in my life that I outgrew.
“You can see the garden, if you’d like. I know you’re probably eager to be on your way, but there are some lovely dogwood flowers starting to bloom, and they smell like heaven,” Ivan says, his voice calm and soothing.
A bit too soothing, considering he doesn’t want me to leave.
I finish the last of my coffee and give him an apologetic look. “Listen, Ivan, I’m really grateful for all this, but you know I have to go. I’d be a burden to you, or at best, a distraction from your work.”
“I doubt that very much,” he replies, his eyebrows drawing together tight on his forehead. “You’re a pleasure to have over, and every man needs a distraction from work, or he’d work himself to death.”
I slide the tray off my lap and get out of bed, stretching in the sunlight. I wish I could stay, but it’s not good for either of us. I hope Ivan can understand that and forgive me for leaving.
I do feel oddly regretful about this. I came into his house, ate with him, made love to him, and now I’m leaving like it was all just a cheap hookup with a guy I don’t really like. I feel like I used him, but I think we both just used each other.
“Thank you for all this,” I say, my eyes drawn to the clothes I wore yesterday, washed and neatly folded on a chair by the window.
I feel even more guilty now.
“It’s my pleasure, Lily,” he says, flashing a pearly white smile and brushing the curls from his forehead. “I just wish you could stay longer.”
“Me too,” I mutter, walking over to my clothes.
I get dressed as Ivan takes my empty tray back downstairs, and by the time he returns, I’ve splashed water on my face, repeated to myself a hundred time that I’m definitely not staying, and zip my leather jacket up all the way to my neck.
I meet Ivan in the hallway, going downstairs with him. My footsteps echo on the marble floor, bouncing up to the vaulted ceiling and coming back down at me like a swooping eagle.
Suddenly, I feel less safe. I’m venturing out on my own again, and there’s a group of people called the Red Hitters who want to ruin my life. I should probably buy a gun and learn how to use it. Dimitri always said I should, but I never did.
I guess I felt safe with him around, like I didn’t need a weapon. I feel the same way with Ivan, to an even greater extent, but that’s coming to an end the moment I step off his beautiful estate.
“I’ll drive you home,” Ivan says, slipping into a pair of black dress shoes.
I’ve never seen him wear sneakers. He’s always so formal, which is rare for a man these days. Most of the guys I went to school with wore dirty sneakers and hoodies all day, even if we went somewhere fancy.
Ivan, on the other hand, is dressed like he’s taking me on a date at the finest restaurant in Paris, but we’re not going anywhere special. I’m not even going to let him take me all the way to my house because I don’t want him knowing where I live. Something tells me he’d show up one night and insist on coming inside.
I’d be out of my clothes and under him again in a heartbeat.
No, I’ve taken too many risks already. Last night can’t happen again, or I run the risk of getting pregnant. I’m not on birth control, and condoms weren’t even mentioned before we had sex.
I suppose there’s already a chance I could’ve gotten pregnant, but it’s unlikely. People always make it out like one slip up is enough to have a baby, but most people try for months or even years before they manage to make one.
I think I’m safe as long as I don’t let it happen again.
Ivan’s hand finds the small of my back as we walk down the steps on his front porch, coming to a circular driveway with a black sedan parked on the jet-black pavement. It’s not the same car we drove here in yesterday.
I look at him curiously. “Is this also your car?”
He nods. “I have about a dozen just like it, and then a collection of sports cars in the garage around back. I could give you a tour if you’d like.”
A smile tugs at the corners of my mouth, though I try hard to suppress it. He’s still trying to convince me to stay. It’s actually rather cute, coming from someone who could just as easily overpower me and make me his bedroom toy for the rest of my life. I might even enjoy wearing the chains, as long as he did that thing with his mouth like he did last night.
I shake the filthy thoughts from my head, turning down his offer to give me a tour of his cars. “I’m sure they’re lovely, but I have to go. I’m supposed to be back at work in a few days, and there’s about a hundred things I need to do at home before then.”
“Not a problem,” Ivan says, stepping around the car and opening the door for me. “In you go.”
I climb into the leather interior, once again amazed by how nice it is. The leather is white with coconut brown accents, and everything is either shiny metal or wood – no plastic!
Ivan slides in beside me, starting the car with a push of a button. It hums to life, the powerful engine making very little noise until he presses on the accelerator.
“If you give me an address, I’ll put it into the navigation,” he says, leaning toward the screen on the dashboard between us.
My jaw tightens. “No need. I think you can just take me back to my car at the cemetery. It should still be in the parking lot there, assuming it wasn’t towed.”
To my surprise, Ivan doesn’t press me on my decision. He just drives us through the front gate, nodding at the armed guards as we leave. There are six of them now instead of two.
Ivan drives me to the cemetery without saying a word. The silence is oppressive, but I know there’s no point in starting a conversation. If anything, it would work against me because I’d be more reluctant to leave.
It’s better that it ends this way, in bitter silence. Sweetness is addicting, but that doesn’t mean it’s good for you.
My car is still in the parking lot when we arrive. The police tape has already been removed, all signs of disaster gone like the shooting never happened. I’m still not entirely convinced the police were behind it, but if they were, they probably wouldn’t bother staying at the scene for very long.
Just enough to make it look like they cared, and then they’d move on to the next thing.
It’s sad, really, but it’s not my business. All I’m supposed to do from here on out is keep my head down and act like I don’t know anything. I’ll go back to work, settle into my old lifestyle, and try to figure out how to continue on through life without a strong masculine figure beside me.
Difficult though it may be, I’m sure I’ll manage. If there’s one thing Dimitri taught me, it was the power of independence. Sure, we’re always stronger as people together, but that should be a voluntary undertaking. You should always be able to rely on yourself if you need to.
Ivan’s eyes are narrow, and his grip on the steering wheel is tight as he parks next to my car. He scans the parking lot, the tension in the cabin palpable. “You need to stay safe out there,” he grumbles. “Any sign of danger, and you call me. You understand?”
“I don’t even have my phone,” I reply, “much less your number. I’m not sure I want it, either.”
He shoots me a vicious look, like he doesn’t even like me. I suppose he doesn’t have any reason to, since I’ve turned down every attempt he’s made to keep me around since our tumble in the sheets last night.
I’m old news, I guess. No need to be nice anymore.
“Get another phone, and take my number,” he growls, grabbing a pen from his pocket and digging around for a napkin. He scribbles down some numbers once he finds something to write them on, and hands the napkin to me. “Don’t hesitate. Any danger, and I’m a minute away.”
“Thanks,” I mutter, taking the napkin from him sheepishly. I tuck it into my jacket pocket, feeling the blue ink smear on my fingertips. I plan on throwing it away the second he’s out of view.
I open the door, about the step out, but Ivan’s firm hand on my arm stops me. “Wait a second.”
I turn to face him, ready to defy him one last time, but then he pulls a wad of cash from his coat pocket, handing it to me. “Should be enough for a phone.”
I take it, feeling the thickness of the bills in my hand. They’re all hundreds, meaning that there’s at least a few thousand dollars here.
“This is way too much,” I say, trying to give it back to him.
He holds up his hand. “Take it, darling. It’s nothing to me, and if it helps you get back on your feet, I want you to have it.”
I feel less guilty when I remember how rich he is. This probably is nothing to him. It would take me months to save up this kind of money, but he tosses it around like pocket change. I don’t know whether I find that attractive of infuriating.
Maybe both.
“Thank you for everything,” I say as I climb out of his car. This time, he doesn’t try to stop me.