Chapter 23
Chapter Twenty-Three
Anna
Ivan brought me home.
No. Ivan kidnapped me and brought me home.
The iron gate slid open automatically. The wheels crunched over the gravel driveway and stopped in front of the entrance.
Ivan unbuckled his seatbelt and came around to my side to pull me out.
Like a puppet, I let him push me into the house and up the stairs.
I sat on the edge of the bed in the bedroom.
The room was huge. South-facing windows. Sunlight spilled across the carpet through white sheer curtains, warm and bright.
"You'll stay here for now. If you need anything, tell Antonia."
"I don't need anything." My stomach hurt. My head spun. "I'll leave. The second you slip up, I'll take my son and disappear. You'll never find us."
Ivan stood a few steps away, his silhouette caught in the bright sunlight, but his voice sounded waterlogged. "Why won't you just listen? I'm doing this for your own good."
"For my own good?" My throat ached, but I forced myself to fight back. "You threatened me with Alex. You had me watched. And you call that good?"
"Ivan Volkov, what gives you the right?"
He looked at me. Eyes bottomless.
"I'll say it again, Anna. Staying here is good for you and Alex."
Good? In what way?
Who kidnaps someone, locks them up, and calls it helping?
I clenched my jaw. Couldn't take it anymore.
"You keep me here like a canary in a cage. Have you ever stopped to think I'm a person, not a pet?"
I don't know where the courage came from, but I swung at his arm.
Ivan grunted and caught my wrist.
"Let go!"
I struggled, desperate to break free.
He yanked me forward instead.
I crashed into his chest. Before I could push myself up, his kiss came down.
I turned my head to dodge it, but he wouldn't let me.
His hand gripped the back of my neck tighter. His breath scorched my skin. His kiss landed on my forehead, my cheek, finally capturing my lips. His tongue forced past my teeth, stealing my breath.
Panicked and scared, I shoved at him with everything I had, clawing at his shirt.
Then I froze.
Warm liquid splashed onto the back of my hand. Sticky and hot.
That smell—metallic and sweet, sharp in my nose.
My whole body went rigid. I wanted to push him away but had no strength left.
When I stopped struggling, he let go.
He reached for my face. I turned away.
His hand paused, but he didn't give up. Instead, he bent lower.
"Kitten, don't be mad."
The gentle pet name clashed grotesquely with what he'd done.
My head spun. Heat prickled behind my eyes again.
"Kitten, don't cry."
He kissed away the tears that leaked from the corners of my eyes. His stubble scratched my skin, itchy and burning.
I shoved him hard and heard him suck in a sharp breath.
I was pathetic.
Even hating him, resenting him, I still looked.
Blood seeped through his sleeve, spreading slowly like an ugly, vicious flower.
"Ivan—"
My voice shot up before I could stop it.
All the anger and resentment evaporated in that instant.
"You—you're hurt?"
How was he hurt?
In my mind, he'd always been invincible.
Someone that formidable—how could he be hurt?
He gritted his teeth. Cold sweat beaded on his forehead. Still, he waved it off. "I'm fine, kitten. Don't be scared."
"First aid kit, first aid!" Tears came harder now. "Where's the kit?"
I tore through the room like a madwoman.
Ivan sat on the bed, completely unhurried. Actually laughed.
He pointed. Top shelf of the storage cabinet. "Up there."
My feet felt like jelly on the carpet. I finally found the kit and brought it over.
"Hold still. This might hurt."
He leaned back against the headboard and unbuttoned his shirt. Pulled it off.
His body was still beautifully sculpted. Clean lines of muscle across his abs. Shoulders broad enough to weather any storm.
"Like what you see?"
The teasing voice floated above my head.
I met his eyes. That familiar smirk tugged at his mouth. Cold sweat still clung to his temples, but he played it off like nothing.
I cleared my throat and looked at the wound.
The stitches from before had torn open. Blood ran down the curve of his arm.
"How did it get this bad?"
Ivan said nothing.
His gray-blue eyes were heavy, veiled with fog, hiding too many secrets.
I bit my lip and didn't ask again.
I cleaned the wound with saline, then disinfected it with iodine.
Pain made a vein jump at his temple. His hand rested on my waist the whole time, fingers tracing lazy circles.
Itchy. Tingling.
I cursed him silently.
Even now, he was in the mood to flirt.
I exhaled and focused on restitching the wound.
I'd volunteered at a community clinic before. Basic sutures, I could handle. When the needle pierced his skin, his body tensed, but I didn't stop. "Does it hurt? I'll be gentler..."
"I'm fine. Keep going."
His voice was low but steadying.
I pulled myself together and finished stitching, then wrapped it with gauze.
When I looked up, Ivan's lips had gone bloodless.
I frowned and searched the kit. "Do you have painkillers in here?"
Ivan tilted his head, gaze sliding down my face, dropping to my chest.
"Don't need pills. There's a better way."
I looked at his bandaged arm. Equal parts irritated and amused.
"You really don't give a fuck about your own life."
Ivan sighed. "Baby, I'm just being honest."
I ignored him and started putting the kit back on the shelf.
He laughed softly and pulled me onto his lap. "It hurts. Help me with the pain."
I glared at him. His smile deepened. He lowered his head and kissed my neck.
I was a woman with no backbone. I'd been furious about being forced here, but the second he showed weakness, I fell right back in.
I knelt between his legs, hand trailing down his torso. When I touched him there, my face burned.
Ivan hissed and pressed his hand over mine, guiding me slowly.
The room went quiet except for his ragged breathing.
He kissed the top of my head. Stubble scratched my forehead. Faster and faster, his fingertips brushing the most sensitive spot, his low groan rumbling in my ear, hot release spilling into my palm.
So hot.
I quickly grabbed tissues and wiped my hand clean, heart still pounding.
Ivan tipped his head back, panting, then pulled me into his arms again. His chin rested in the hollow of my shoulder. His breath warmed my ear.
I leaned against his chest, listening to his steady heartbeat, and suddenly thought of that night in Las Vegas.
He hadn't hurt me. He'd chosen the bathroom instead.
Right.
A man that gentle had restrained every urge for a stranger.
Someone like that—how could he ignore what I wanted and lock me up here?
I lifted my head to look at him. His eyes were closed, long lashes casting shadows, hiding whatever he felt.
"Ivan," I said softly, fingers brushing his sharp nose. "Tell me. What happened? Why did you have to bring me here?"
He opened his eyes and looked at me. A thousand words seemed to live in those depths, but he said nothing.
I didn't know what he was afraid of.
He'd always been invincible in my mind. I'd forgotten he could bleed too. That things could weigh on him.
I looked at him. The anger I'd felt at being trapped seemed to drain away with that pool of blood.
"Anna, will you just stay here for a while?"
Still no explanation. But I heard the plea in his voice.
Faced with that, I couldn't refuse. I nodded and buried my face in the crook of his neck. "Okay. But you have to bring Alex back."
Maybe when he trusted me enough, he'd tell me why. All I had to do was wait.
Ivan tightened his arms and held me closer. "Of course. He's our son."