Chapter Fifteen - EMMA
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
EMMA
I WAKE UP the next morning feeling rested, but a little uneasy.
I spent the night at Ivan’s house in the most comfortable bed I’ve ever slept in.
I kind of don’t want to leave this bed, but when I roll over to check the location of my phone, instead my stomach rumbles loudly.
I find my phone on the side table, plugged in like it’s always been there.
I don’t remember plugging in my phone when Ivan left me here last night.
I wonder if maybe he came in while I was sleeping and did it for me.
I get out of bed, brush my teeth, and then go in search of Ivan and some coffee.
As soon as I open the bedroom door, I smell bacon, so I follow my nose to the kitchen.
Ivan didn’t exactly give me a grand tour last night, but it was pretty easy to find the kitchen.
Bacon has never led me astray. When I walk into the kitchen, Ivan is standing at the stove cooking breakfast. I stop in my tracks.
The man has his back turned to me, and is wearing nothing but a pair of gray sweatpants that are sitting low on his hips.
There is a huge dragon tattoo covering his back, with the tail running down Ivan’s spine and the wings spread out across his shoulders and part of his upper arms. It’s beautiful.
I can also see some more tattoos running down his forearms and now I’m imagining what’s on the front of his chest. My breath hitches, and I have to wipe a little bit of drool from the corner of my mouth.
“Like what you see?” Ivan asks me over his shoulder. I have no idea how he knew I was standing there.
“Um…” is all I can manage to get out because my tongue has suddenly become too big for my mouth. Ivan chuckles and turns to face me. Holy crap on a cracker, this man has abs for days. When he smiles at me, I feel it down to my core.
I’m in deep trouble.
“Coffee?” he asks, holding up a coffee cup.
“Sure,” I respond and take a seat. The island in Ivan’s kitchen has stools tucked underneath it, creating a more comfortable environment. I’ve always felt more at home in a kitchen. Maybe that’s why I like being a waitress so much.
“When can I go back to my apartment?” I ask him as he puts a large coffee mug in front of me. His fingers graze mine as I reach for the cup, and a tingle shoots up my arm.
“When I know it is safe for you,” he tells me, turning back to the stove and scrambling some eggs.
“When will that be?” I ask.
“Persistent and stubborn,” Ivan mumbles with a shake of his head, avoiding my question as he places a plate of fresh scrambled eggs and bacon in front of me. He has his own plate and stands opposite me while he eats.
“I’m half Irish. The Irish have historically been persecuted by others, so we sometimes fight back,” I retort. Ivan laughs again before taking a sip of his own coffee.
“This goes beyond being stubborn,” Ivan says, his voice getting louder the more he speaks. “You were assaulted outside your apartment. You were kidnapped yesterday by four men working for the Irish mafia.”
“How do you know they were Irish?” I question.
“My brothers questioned the last man alive.”
“How did you know where I was?”
“I put a tracker in your phone,” Ivan says matter-of-factly.
“You did what? What the fuck, Ivan?” I yell, choking and nearly spitting out my coffee.
“Calm down,” he says like it’s no big deal.
“Don’t you tell me to calm down! In what universe does saying that to a woman ever work?”
“I put a tracker in your phone when I was at your apartment. I knew at some point you would try and shake off Yuri, and you proved me right.”
“What gave you the right to put a tracker in my phone? Ivan, that’s an invasion of privacy!” My mouth hangs open at the audacity of this man. He may be hot, but in this moment he’s also infuriating.
“If protecting you means putting a tracker in your phone so I know where you are, then I’ll do it. I won’t apologize for that.” Ivan is eerily calm while also managing to be intimidating at the same time.
“You don’t own me, Ivan!” I scream at him.
“You’re right, I don’t own you. Doesn’t change the fact that you’re mine.” There’s a sinister grin creeping into the corner of Ivan’s mouth.
I get up from the kitchen island and stomp away to the guest room, slamming the door behind me. Ivan is infuriating, and handsome, and just plain sinful, and ugh!
Somehow in the time I was downstairs eating breakfast and yelling at Ivan, his housekeeper has washed, dried, and folded my clothes. I quickly get dressed and go downstairs. I need to get out of here.
“Who are you?” I ask the man standing near the front door.
“Ilya,” he responds.
“I need the keys to a car. Any car. I don’t even care which one. I have to go home and then to work,” I explain while I hold out my hand for the car keys.
“No, Ms. Murphy. Boss says you stay here today,” Ilya replies.
“Please? I won’t tell him you gave me the keys.”
“No. Unless the boss says you can go somewhere, you stay here. Even if he says you can go, I take you,” Ilya says.
“What happened to Yuri? Where is he?” I ask impatiently.
“Not my concern, Ms. Murphy.”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” I ask again.
“Talk to the boss,” was Ilya’s reply.
“Please, Ilya. I need to be in my apartment with my stuff.” I feel like this argument isn’t getting me anywhere.
“No,” he said simply.
Well shit. This is not going the way that I hoped.
Time for a new plan. Looking around the foyer, I can’t see any keys hanging from a hook, but I do notice a basket on a hallway table near the front door.
There are several key fobs nestled inside.
Taking a quick glance out the window, I notice there are a few cars and a motorcycle parked in the circular driveway.
I glance quickly to see that Ilya is on a call with someone, so I grab a random key fob from the basket and head for the front door.
Clicking the unlock button on the key fob in my hand, it unlocks Ivan’s Mercedes at the front of the line.
There’s some damage to the back end from yesterday’s chase, but I’m not worried about that.
I get into the driver’s seat and start the car.
In the rear-view mirror, I can see Ilya rushing out the front door and towards me.
I put the car in drive and head down the driveway.
I didn’t notice it yesterday when Ivan brought me here, but his house is set back from the road, the driveway long and curved.
I think to myself that it might not be so bad to live in a place like this someday—until I get to the entrance gate and it’s closed.
Crap! Where is the button to open it? I look around the dashboard and the sun visors and don’t see one.
I start pushing a random buttons on the bottom of the rear view mirror, and finally the gate starts to open. I smile.
The smile doesn’t last long because as soon as the gate is halfway open I notice there’s a man standing in the middle of the driveway. It’s not just any man—it’s Ivan. Where the hell did he come from?
He stands there looking at me, his arms crossed across his chest, and he doesn’t look happy. He drops his arms and slowly walks to the passenger side of the car. The car is locked so he can’t get in—or so I think. Ivan reaches into his pocket, and I hear the click of the door unlocking.
“Going somewhere, lyubimaya?” Ivan asks as he settles into the passenger seat.
“Yes. I’m going home,” I tell him.
“No you’re not. You’re staying here.”
“I want my things, and I need to pick up Gran’s ashes from the funeral home. Oh yeah—that’s another bone I have to pick with you,” I say as I stab my finger into his infuriatingly hard chest.
“Nyet. No. Drive my car back to the house,” Ivan demands.
“Make me,” I huff, but after we stare each other down, I eventually do as he says. When we get back to the house, I park behind the other cars this time and Ivan takes the keys from me. We walk in the front door, and I go to the guest room, slamming the door behind me.
I’m mad and have never felt so helpless in my life.
A couple of hours later, there’s a knock at my door.
“What?” I ask. I don’t feel much like talking to anyone right now.
“It’s Ivan. Open the door.” That accent does things to me that it shouldn’t.
“No. What do you want?” I ask through the door.
“For you to open the door,” Ivan responds.
“No thank you,” I tell him. He opens the door and comes in anyway. I sit up quickly and throw a pillow at him. “Get out!”
“You’re mad that I won’t let you leave, and I don’t care. At least you’re alive.”
“Why are you doing this, Ivan?” I ask him, tears forming at the corners of my eyes.
“I’m doing this because someone needs to make sure you’re safe,” he replies, grabbing me by the shoulders to get my attention.
“What about Gran’s ashes? What about my own things? How will I get any of that if I’m stuck here?” I ask him.
“I sent some men to your apartment to pack up your things. Your stuff will be delivered later this afternoon,” Ivan explains, releasing his grip on my shoulders and settling into a chair near the bed.
“Fine,” I say, the fight and sass leaving me. “What happened to Yuri?”
“He was punished for his failures yesterday.”
“What does that mean?” I ask.
“It means that he won’t be guarding you for a while, if ever again.”
“What did you do?” I continue to question.
“Nothing he didn’t deserve. Actually, that’s not true—he deserved to die for letting you get taken and failing my instructions. Instead he was beaten, by me, within an inch of his life, and will be under careful watch until further notice,” Ivan answers. I can hear the anger behind his words.
My eyes grow large and my hand covers my mouth in shock.
I look down and notice that Ivan’s knuckles are red on both hands.
I’m utterly speechless at what Ivan has told me.
It seems harsh that Yuri was beaten so badly.
I really hope he’s okay. I turn away from Ivan because I can barely stand to look at him.
“One more thing, Emma,” Ivan says as he turns toward the door.
“What?” I ask him over my shoulder, still annoyed we’re having this conversation.
“Next time you want to take a joyride, just ask. You don’t have to steal my car.” Ivan winks at me as he leaves the room.
“Arrogant asshole,” I huff as I cross my arms across my chest. Who does Ivan think he is? He can’t just boss me around and expect me to be happy about it.
As promised, my stuff arrived before the afternoon was over.
Everything was packed into boxes and placed in the guest room where I’m staying.
I search for my clothes and pull out my favorite pair of leggings and a sweatshirt, then search another box for my blanket from the couch.
Whoever was on this crew also took the time to gently pad and pack my laptop.
I shower again, hoping to shake the awful feeling in my stomach at Yuri’s punishment, then crawl into bed to do some digital journaling. If Ivan wants me, he knows where to find me.