Chapter 8 - Mila
The sheets I wake up tangled in aren’t mine, and that alone makes my heart startle the second my eyes open. Right after, the pounding in my head registers, and my chest aches like I’ve been punched over and over again.
For a moment, I forget where I am until clarity strikes me at once. Everything hits me from the alleyway, his hands on me, the condo, the camera.
The humiliation of hiding under the covers all night just to keep out of his sight clings to me even as I sit up abruptly, well aware of the anger surging through me so fast that it burns everything else away.
While sunlight filters through the reinforced windows and the silence of the room swathes everything, I’m reminded that this is nothing more than containment, even if Ivan wants to pretend it’s for my safety.
Swinging my legs over the side of the bed, I get up and pad over to the door.
Even if it was just one night, I’ve had enough.
I spent the whole time cycling between panicking, crying, and shrinking under the pressure of the situation, and now, I’m tired of it.
Ivan had calmed me down and reassured me of his intentions, but that game is all too familiar. The reassurance, the redirection…it’s just like my brothers, and that realization makes my skin go completely cold.
I didn’t run from Carlo and Cesare just to fold the moment a different man decided he knew what was best for me. I escaped, and that matters. By now, it has to mean something.
Rather than sitting around quietly while I wait and hope that Ivan Lukov suddenly grows a conscience, I need to take my life back into my own hands, even if I don’t know exactly how to do that yet.
Finding the bedroom door unlocked, to my surprise, I push through and step into the hall without hesitating. If he has more cameras around that he’s watching me through, then fine. Let him see I’m not hiding now.
The condo is as quiet as it was yesterday, and now that I’m looking around more thoroughly, I catch the smaller details.
Somehow, the place is masculine in an understated, expensive kind of way, with enough dark wood and steel accents to make it seem intentional.
It’s clean, but not sterile. With a dark bar cart in the corner of the living room, and crystal glasses on display behind it, I’m assuming that’s as personal as it gets here.
It suits him in a way.
After padding through the place, I find him in the kitchen, leaning against the counter with a coffee mug in his grasp while he scrolls through his phone. And to my horror, he’s shirtless.
I pause, eyes drawn to the lean muscle spanning across his back and how it flexes subtly as he shifts in place, then I catch the tattoo on his shoulder, though I don’t let myself look at it long enough to make out what it is.
The casual way his grey sweatpants hang from his hips doesn’t help my momentum in the slightest, but the slight flutter in my stomach forces me to correct myself, steeling my expression.
It only took one look at him in this relaxed position, in the comfort of his home, to make me second-guess myself, and I hate it.
Surely sensing that he’s not alone now, Ivan glances over his shoulder at me, then he pushes himself up smoothly. “Good, you’re awake.”
I don’t give him the decency of a greeting. “We need to talk.”
“Yeah?” He asks, offering me a noncommittal hum as he turns and leans back. “Do we?”
“Yes, we do,” I snap back, arms crossing over my chest. “Unless you prefer locking me in the spare bedroom like an object.”
Ivan gives me an unruffled look that’s more unimpressed than anything, and he sets the mug down. “You’re being dramatic. It wasn’t even locked.”
“That’s not the point. You put cameras in the bedroom, Ivan.”
“Don’t take it personally. The camera was there before you came here,” he says as simply as anything. “It’s for security.”
I narrow my eyes at him, not accepting that answer as innocently as he wants me to. “You were watching me sleep.”
“I turned the feed off…eventually.”
“Yeah, after you proved you could,” I fire back.
Ivan puts his hands up in a placating gesture that makes his biceps pop, and I have to convince myself I didn’t see it. “Fine, maybe the camera’s a bit much. But you’re safe here, like I said.”
“Physically keeping me hidden doesn’t make me safe. It just means I’m trapped, and I’m not giving you credit for that.”
At that, something flickers in his eyes, and it comes close to looking like reluctant admiration, but it’s gone too quickly for me to focus on. “I’m not like your brothers.”
“No, you’re not. But at least they didn’t act like my saviors.”
When his gaze sharpens, Ivan takes a step closer and deliberately crowds my space. He looks me over, not even trying to hide it. “Careful, Mila.”
The intensity there sends something scurrying up my spine, but I force it away. “With what, hurting your feelings?”
“Pushing me,” he utters, jaw clenching.
In any other situation, I would’ve found his stare too intimidating to stand my ground, but right now, I’m doomed either way. “Good. You deserve it.”
The room feels more charged now, tension pulling far tighter as we hold each other’s stare, unwilling to look away. As much as I don’t want to, I notice how close he is and how solid his body seems. Heat emanates from his skin, seeping into mine in a way that feels far too invasive yet appealing.
It’s aggravating.
“I don’t care about your excuses or justifications, you don’t get to watch me,” I utter, breaking that silence.
Ivan doesn’t flinch. “I need to know where you are.”
“Why? Worried I’ll escape?”
“You won’t escape,” he reiterates, words a touch sharper now. “I need to make sure you don’t get yourself killed doing something stupid.”
Scoffing at that, I pull away. “You sound just like them.”
The claim is thrown out carelessly, yet Ivan stiffens, and it apparently hits harder than intended. “I’m not them. Don’t even start.”
My brows furrow. “Then stop acting like I belong to you.”
He stares at me then, looking like there’s something else he wants to say, only to come up short. Another wave of irritating silence stretches between us, then he huffs out a breath.
“You’re getting bent out of shape over being monitored as if you haven’t been for most of your life. It’s not like this is the first time.”
It’s my turn to hesitate, finding myself dissecting those words much more closely than he likes. “How do you know that?”
Ivan blinks, seemingly realizing far too late what he said, and he can’t hide how a touch of panic moved through his eyes. He quickly masks it with a measuring look.
“You’re from a high-profile family, it’s not hard to assume.”
Sure, maybe it is an easy conclusion to come to, but the way he said it made him sound so sure.
So certain that I’ve experienced that kind of privacy invasion before.
I search his face then, looking for any mockery or cruelty, but instead, I just see that same focus and intensity. And, something too close to interest.
Forcing the thoughts out of my head, I demand, “What do you want with me?”
Ivan’s gaze slides along my features, and he goes to answer, only to close it again. Then, a quiet breath slips from him. “You’re…important.”
“To who?”
“To your family, and to mine,” he murmurs, looking vaguely annoyed for a moment. “And to others now, apparently.”
My brows furrow, and more anger sparks in me. “Why, because I’m just something to be sold off?”
“No, you aren’t,” he says without missing a beat, and the look he gives me is absolutely intentional. “That’s the difference between your brothers and me.”
That throws me far easier than it should, and I have to consider my words before releasing them. “You still locked me up.”
“I didn’t lock you up.”
“You might as well have.”
Ivan averts his gaze, apparently finding the island more interesting. Though I can see his interest in the argument waning, as if there isn’t an active problem he needs to address right now.
With a breath, he murmurs, “I’ll have some things brought for you…clothes, essentials, whatever you need.”
The sudden change catches me off guard, and I huff. “What, that’s it? You’re done talking?”
Those blue eyes meet mine again, making it exceptionally clear that he won’t expend more of his energy on the topic. “We’re going in circles.”
He isn’t wrong, but that doesn’t mean I want to accept that this is as far as we’re taking this discussion, especially since I’ve made zero progress here.
“And you bringing me clothes is supposed to make everything better?”
Standing up a bit straighter now, Ivan grabs his coffee again, gripping his phone precariously in the same hand. “We’re going somewhere in a few days, and you’ll need something to wear.”
Immediately, my pulse spikes, and alarms start going off in my head. “Where?”
“Relax,” he murmurs, far too casual about all of this. “It’s just a baby shower.”
At first, I assume I misheard him, but given how unfazed he looks, I know he means it. I stare at him in utter disbelief.
“What?”
“It’s a baby shower for my sister,” Ivan repeats. “A small, harmless get together.”
“Right…a baby shower,” I echo stupidly, not knowing what else to say. The whole thing doesn’t make any sense.
“Yes.”
Searching for any sign that he’s joking, I don’t find a single one. He’s being completely serious, which only brings me more questions.
“So after all of this, with you not letting me go, without telling me what you really want, you’re taking me to a baby shower for your sister…”
“Yes. I can say it again if you need me to.”
I glare at him then, irritated by his flippant attitude, while my stomach clenches at the idea of being around more Lukovs.
“Why?”
Ivan takes a deep, painstaking breath, like he wishes I’d talk about anything else right now. “Because it’s important and all of us are supposed to be there.”
“I’m not your family, so why do I have to be there?”
“You might not be, but since you’re with me, you’re going, and you’ll behave,” he says, making it sound like I’m just a dog that needs to obey.
I bristle before I can stop it. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me. You’ll be polite, and you won’t try to run,” Ivan says, leaving no room for argument.
“And if I don’t listen?” I question, eyes narrowing, pushing more than I should now.
A shadow moves across his features, giving me all the warning I need. “Trust me, you don’t want to find out.”
He’s right, I don’t. But that doesn’t mean any part of me wants to sit back and take it.
I swallow, silently hoping he doesn’t catch it.
“You’re my responsibility now,” Ivan says with a deliberate step closer, lowering his voice. “Try making this easier on both of us.”
The urge to snap at him again rises to the surface, but before I can, he turns away, leaving the kitchen behind.
“You should eat something,” he calls back to me as he strides away like this is a normal thing in completely average circumstances.
Left alone in the kitchen, I stand there for a long, stupid moment, feeling as if everything twists into a knot inside me.
A baby shower. He expects me to go to a baby shower and to blend in with his family, like it doesn’t scare the absolute shit out of me.
He’s delusional, yet I already know there’s no changing his mind.