Chapter Twenty - EMMA
CHAPTER TWENTY
EMMA
A COUPLE OF days later, I find Ivan waiting for me in the kitchen, fresh cup of coffee in hand.
He’s wearing a shirt that hugs his chest and arms in all the best ways to show off his toned muscles, and I swear it must be at least one size too small.
The gray sweatpants are back, hanging low on his hips, and I can only imagine what the rest of him looks like underneath.
Seriously, gray sweatpants are for women like lingerie is for men.
“Good morning, Ivan,” I say as I take a seat at the kitchen island. Ivan passes me a freshly made cup, our fingers touching quickly as I reach for it.
“Good morning. Did you sleep well?” Ivan asks.
“I did. The bed in the guest room is one of the most comfortable I’ve ever slept in. I get so comfortable so quickly, that I’m practically falling asleep before I plug my phone in to charge,” I reply as I take a sip of my coffee.
“I have something for you,” Ivan says, pulling a small box out of the pocket of his sweatpants and sliding it across the kitchen island towards me.
“What is it?” I ask him. He doesn’t answer my question, just nods to the box.
I open the box and find a gold bracelet inside. It’s a simple rope-style bracelet, and I have no idea how to hook it around my wrist because there’s no clear clasp.
“I need you to wear this,” Ivan says as he takes the bracelet out of the box.
“Why?” I ask him. He takes his time securing the bracelet, his touch lingering on my wrist. I’m glad he knows how it works, because I certainly don’t.
“Inside this bracelet is a tracking device,” Ivan starts to explain. “This is so that I will always know where you are, even when I can’t be next to you.”
“Is that really necessary? You already have one in my phone,” I point out.
“Yes.” Ivan is very direct. “Your safety and security is my first priority. You won’t always have your phone on you.”
“Well, at least you’re telling me about the tracking this time,” I say in an attempt to make a joke. Ivan smiles.
“There’s something else I need to tell you,” Ivan continues.
“Go on,” I say as I take another sip of coffee.
Ivan takes my hand in his. “I haven’t had feelings for any woman in many years. It’s part of why I have a strong need to keep you safe and to keep you close.”
“Oh,” I say.
“Yes,” he answers, once again being very direct. “And today, to show you how much you mean to me, we are going on a date.”
“A date?” I ask him.
“Yes, a date.”
“But what about security? What about the Irish being after me?”
“Taken care of. A man in my position with my connections can make lots of things happen,” he says as he smiles at me.
“Where are we going?” I ask him.
“You’ll see. Now go upstairs and get dressed in something comfortable,” Ivan replies.
“Okay.” I hop off my seat at the kitchen island, and Ivan playfully swats my butt when I walk by him. I’m finally getting out of this house. Granted, I don’t know where we’re going, but at least I can be a little relieved that I’m not stuck inside all day.
I quickly climb the stairs to my room and throw on a pair of jeans and my favorite sweater. Ivan said to dress comfortably, and this is my comfiest outfit. I swipe some mascara on my lashes and gloss on my lips, then put on my shoes and head back downstairs.
Ivan is waiting for me at the bottom of the staircase with my coat. He helps me into it and squeezes my shoulders. Taking my hand in his, he leads me out the front door and to a waiting car.
“So when are you going to tell me where we’re going?” I ask Ivan as we make our way into the city. Ilya is driving us in a car that has a divider between the front and back seats.
“You’ll see,” Ivan replies. He’s still holding my hand, and I’m loving the feeling of it.
Soon, we are pulling up in front of the Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum.
“We’re here,” Ivan says before opening his door to get out of the car. He holds his hand out for me to take and helps me out the door, closing it behind me.
“I’ve been wanting to come here since I moved to Boston,” I say as I look up at the building.
“Oh yeah?” Ivan asks, holding open the front door of the museum so I can walk inside.
“Yes, I’ve always had an appreciation for art and history, and this place kind of has it all when you think about. It’s a pretty incredible collection.”
“Not as incredible as you are,” Ivan says, looking at me like I’m the most precious thing in the museum. I look up at him, and he places a soft kiss on my temple.
“Mr. Kiselyov, Ms. Murphy, welcome to the Gardner museum,” a woman’s voice greets us. She reaches out to shake both of our hands, and we return the handshakes.
“Thank you for having us,” I tell her.
“Are you ready for your tour?” she asks.
“Our tour?” I look between Ivan and the woman.
“We have the entire museum to ourselves for as long as you wish,” Ivan tells me.
I stare back at him in shock while the tour guide just smiles at us. I take a look towards the museum entrance, and notice that Ilya and my new bodyguard are standing just inside the door, while several other members of Ivan’s security team stand outside the entrance.
“The museum is closed just for us, Emma,” Ivan whispers in my ear. “There is nothing to worry about. Nobody can get to us here.”
“Are you sure?” I ask him.
“Just let them try and see what happens,” Ivan replies with a smile. “We are ready for our tour now.” He smiles at the tour guide, threading his fingers with mine. I can’t help but jump with excitement and giggle like a school girl.
The next three hours are spent wandering through the Gardner museum, both inside and out.
He lets me go on and on about the things that excite me.
I think he did it mostly just to see me smile.
Sometimes, I would wander off to look at something while Ivan studied a painting or sculpture.
It wouldn’t be long before I would feel him wrap his arms around my shoulders and press his front to my back.
“Are you hungry?” Ivan asks as I’m standing in front of a portrait of Isabella Stewart Gardner.
“Starving,” I reply. My stomach grumbles in agreement.
“Good.” Ivan smiles and takes my hand as we say goodbye to the tour guide and walk out to the car.
Ilya and my new bodyguard return to their seats up front and drive us to the restaurant. I really need to get the name of the new guy if Yuri is no longer going to be around.
“We’re eating here?” I ask him as the car parks out front.
“Why not? The food is good, and I know you want to see Boris,” Ivan replies as he helps me out of the car. He’s not wrong.
Boris greets us with enthusiasm when we walk in. Apparently as a personal favor to Ivan, Boris has closed the restaurant for just the two of us. He won’t let us order from the menu, and instructs us to just sit down and enjoy what he brings.
Ivan sits next to me at the table he usually shares with his brothers when they come in for their weekly lunch. I find myself getting a little wistful when I think of how much fun I had working here. Hopefully, I’ll be able to get back to it when there’s no longer a threat to deal with.
After lunch, Ivan takes me to his home in Beacon Hill for the afternoon.
He shows me around, and then guides me to the library.
The library is just as beautiful as the one in his home outside the city.
It’s rich and warm, and has a pretty amazing collection of books from all genres, but nothing that’s really favored by a generally female population. I’m going to have to fix that.
Wait a minute. I’m going to have to fix that? Where did that come from? Will Ivan still want to keep me around when this is all over? I know he said earlier this morning that he had feelings for me, but even I know that can change.
“Earth to Emma,” I hear Ivan saying. “There you are. Where did you go?”
“Sorry. I just zoned out for a minute. I got carried away with all the books,” I explain while I gesture towards the shelves.
“Come sit with me.” Ivan takes my hand and guides me over to the couch in the library. Ivan leans back into the couch and drapes his arm across the back. I take my seat next to him, hands my lap, wringing my fingers together at what else he may have to say to me.
“Don’t be nervous. I promise I don’t bite.” Ivan smirks.
“What did you want to talk about?” I ask nervously.
“I want you in all the ways you’ll let me have you. It’s the only thing on my mind after my business,” he starts out. “I meant what I said that we wouldn’t do anything until you were ready.”
“I still don’t fully understand what you do. Where is this going?” I ask him.
Ivan reaches into his pocket and pulls out a sheet of paper. He hands it to me, and then leans forward to place his forearms on his knees.
“What’s this?” I ask him.
“I went to the doctor for a full work up. These are the results,” he says, pointing to the sheet of paper in my hand.
“Oh!” I say as my brain catches up to what Ivan is implying.
It’s a grand gesture that I wasn’t expecting, and the fact he wants to give another layer of reassurance for when I’m ready makes me smile.
I take his face in my hands to kiss him.
Ivan stands up, pulling me with him, and wraps his arms around me while he returns the kiss.
He places a small kiss right below my earlobe. “It’s time to go to dinner.” Ivan helps me into my coat before walking me to the car and holding the door open. We hold hands in the backseat all the way to the restaurant.
Imagine my surprise when we pull up to a building that is most definitely not a restaurant. It looks more like a store in a pretty building tucked in between a few other things.
“I thought we were going to eat,” I said as I got out of the car.
“We are.” Ivan smiles at me. “I’ve reserved us a private cooking lesson.” Ilya holds the door open for us to walk through.
“Aren’t cooking classes usually done with other couples?” I ask, looking up at him with confusion.
“Not tonight. One of the instructors here owes me a favor, so I called it in,” Ivan says like it’s not a big deal.
“Mr. Kiselyov, Ms. Murphy, welcome to our kitchen.” A man wearing chef’s whites steps into the kitchen classroom. “I’m Chef Brian, and I’ll be taking you through creating our menu this evening.”
Ivan and I put on aprons while the chef pours us each a glass of wine.
“I always cook with wine,” Chef Brian say as he pours. “On occasion, I even put it in the food.” That gets a laugh out of both of us. “Tonight, it will not be going in the food, but it will still be enjoyed.”
“Sounds good,” I say as I take a sip. It’s good wine, and probably expensive. It tastes like something I’d never be able to afford on a waitress’s salary.
Ivan and I spend the next three hours making the most incredible Italian dinner. There’s pasta and chicken with fresh veggies, a salad with tomatoes that made my mouth water, and a tiramisu for dessert. Naturally, there’s more wine. I wonder how Ivan found out that tiramisu is my favorite dessert.
“This is amazing, Ivan. Thank you,” I tell him as I savor the tiramisu.
”It’s worth it to see a smile on your face,” he responds as he sips his wine. I feel heat rising in my cheeks in addition to the heat pooling in my belly.
When we’re done eating our meal, we thank Chef Brian and Ivan escorts me back to the car. We sit close together, my head resting on Ivan’s shoulder during the drive back to the house outside the city. Ivan places gentle kisses on my head and traces lazy patterns on my shoulder the whole way.
“Do you want to watch a movie together?” I ask him as we walk in the front door.
“Yes. I’ll get things set up,” Ivan says.
I make my way to my room to change into my pajamas, smiling the whole way. I didn’t worry about my safety once the entire day.
Returning downstairs to the living room, I see Ivan has settled on the couch and is waiting for me to join him and pick a movie. Damn, that man and his gray sweatpants. I think he wears them on purpose to torture me.
I’m totally here for it.