Chapter 28 Gabi
GABI
Fuck. I just broke my own rules and it’s going to bite me in the ass. Not only did I give Milana a glimpse into who I am, but I stepped right out of character.
I’m frozen on the spot as I listen to her retreating footsteps. She walks down the corridor, pauses, and makes quick small talk with Ivan, who is on his way to his room. She bids him goodnight, having kept my secret, but the tension in my stomach doesn’t give.
She’s clearly in a hurry to get away from her brother. I don’t blame her. Right now, I can’t face him, either, because she’s trapped me in a promise I didn’t even make.
Milana wants out of this house, out of the Bratva. She’s going to use me under duress, messing with my own plans. The least I could do would be to give her hell, but I’ve no grip on the situation, nothing to blackmail her with to even the playing field.
This is the last thing I need.
I take a deep breath. She might have me pinned down with her talons, but she’s a woman like me, on the run for reasons of her own.
My head swarms with so many emotions right now. Annoyance at my own stupidity. Fear at what would happen to me should my secret leak out. And awe wrapped in a thin slice of loathing for Milana for putting me in this position.
But just look at her—she was thinking on her feet while I was stunned, a deer in the headlights, what with her catching on that I understand Russian.
Whatever the fuck the convent prepared me for, it wasn’t to be a spy.
There’s no doubt she would make a brilliant one, which begs the question: why the hell does she want to get out of here so desperately?
My mind is still reeling as Ivan strides into the suite, and I force myself to look busy, not like the shell-shocked idiot I am, who allowed his sister to read me in seconds.
Overriding all my emotions is the horror of Milana thinking I’m here to kidnap the girls—to traffic them.
I’m physically sick to my stomach just at the mere idea of it.
Ivan’s eyes are on his daughters where they’re sitting on his bed, looking at a picture book, but he walks in my direction.
“The girls look happy and relaxed,” he says as he comes to stand next to me. “Dinner was amazing, thank you.”
“It’s nothing,” I say softly, not meeting his gaze as I try to recalibrate.
“What’s wrong?” he asks as he tips my face up to his, a gentle but firm finger under my chin.
“Nothing. I’m just tired. Busy day.”
I want to step away, out of his reach, but my body has dropped anchor, keeping me tethered to his touch.
It isn’t threatening. In fact, it’s the opposite, and as he caresses a tender line along my cheek, all I want is to close my eyes and lean into him.
Tell him everything. Unload the burden of every vow I’ve been chained to, whether I’ve made them or not.
He is such a calm presence, the anchor of this little family, and I bet there’ll be nothing of mine he couldn’t carry or pick up if I let go.
It's his touch…how gentle he is with me. How kind and caring.
It strikes me that while I was in the convent I couldn’t heal, even if I’d wanted to. I couldn’t talk. Now, I’m in a different world and things that were always stark black and white are turning into color. No wonder getting cozy with Milana made me so comfortable, I let my guard down.
“I’ve got the girls now, so you can call it a day,” he says. “You’ve been working overtime.”
I smile weakly as he lowers his hand, leaving me afloat, cut adrift of his strength. “With kids, there’s no such thing as overtime.”
“True, that.”
He runs his fingers down the back of my arm, a reassuring gesture, but one that also ripples desire through me.
That he can do this with one simple touch makes me wary of him, of his ability to seduce me with nothing but his hands. I need to get away from this man, before my body betrays me.
“I’m just going to rinse out the bath and tidy up.” I need to stay busy. My mind is spiraling, and the last thing I want is for this man to witness it.
“It’s all good,” he says as he steps up to the bed and promptly bounces on it, startling his girls into happy shrieks as he roughhouses with them and tickles them until they squeal.
I turn my back on this picture-perfect moment, of just a dad with his daughters whom he loves to the moon and back, finding it hard to imagine Ivan being cruel, ruthless, and calculating.
When I see him like this with them, it’s inconceivable.
When he touches me, every caress holds only promises of a man who is compassionate and kind and who would take great care—
I cut off the thought, because I can’t allow my mind to go there. My body should be banned from reacting to him like this, making me a slave of desire, craving the last thing I thought I’d ever want.
In the bathroom, I make sure the bath is rinsed out and the toys stacked in their corner and the rest of the place is neat. As I slip out, I hope to make a quiet escape, but three pairs of eyes turn to me. Ivan and his girls are lying on the bed, reading a counting book.
“Good night, sweethearts,” I say, not wanting to intrude any further on this precious moment.
“Kissy-kiss-kiss!” Katya calls out as she struggles to sit up, pouting her lips in my direction.
I smile, for she is irresistible with her golden curls and huge blue eyes. This has been our ritual for the past three nights, and I can’t cop out now just because Ivan is here. I pad over and lean in to give her a kiss on the forehead.
“Good night, Katya,” I whisper, my heart in my throat, already knowing I will kill to protect these girls.
“Me, too,” Irisha chimes in, and I dutifully circle the bed to where she’s now sitting up to receive her goodnight kiss.
A deep blush settles on my cheeks, butterflies just below my heart as Ivan follows my every move, and when I meet his gaze over the top of Irisha’s head, there’s something in his eyes I’ve not seen before.
A longing. Sincere and open, for just this, but more.
Something real. Him and his future wife in a moment just like this one.
It’s as if we both know how precious these moments are with the girls, both of us coming from a dark place where we’ve seen things we want to protect them from. I’ve seen the scars on his body, this bullet-riddled house, but he has seen none of mine, and he never will, for I’ll never be his.
“Good night,” I whisper, not trusting myself.
“You still wanted to talk to me about, you know,” he says as Irisha leans back to cuddle with her dad.
“No, it’s fine. There’s really nothing to talk about.” The last thing I need is to talk to Ivan about Milana.
“Okay, maybe in the morning.”
“I’ll just head down to the kitchen to clean up from dinner.” Just keep busy. Nobody wants to go down in the morning and find last night’s mess in the kitchen.
“There wasn’t much left to do. Yuri and I cleaned up. No need to go down again.”
I nod, realizing in my panic about Milana, I’d forgotten that I’m essentially being watched. Maybe, now that Ivan’s back at home, Yuri will give me space.
But it isn’t only Yuri. For all I know, there’re hidden cameras, like the ones Dominic uses, in every single room in this house.
Maybe not. Half the place seems to have been blown to bits.
I have more questions than ever before—about the whereabouts of the old Pakhan, who the hell Dimitri was, why this house was riddled by bullets—and no means to get any answers.
“See you all in the morning, then.” I walk out to the corridor, past the security gate, and to my room.
I’m still baffled how Milana jumped from one conclusion to the next about me.
That I’m here to spy. She insists there’s a deal between Ivan and my brothers, but I don’t know of any, nor do I see a connection that would lead Matteo, as Don, to make a deal with Ivan, as Pakhan of the Petrov Bratva, that involves me.
I close my bedroom door and sink onto the bed, feeling for Mom’s golden cross underneath my T-shirt. To be honest, it won’t be the first time in my life I’m the last to hear about my fate in the maneuverings of men.
Somehow, I still have it in me to run, but I’m used to short sprints between convents. This is turning into a marathon, and I’m not trained for that.