Chapter 14 - Mila
I don’t regret losing my virginity, even if a part of me should.
That thought has been following me since it happened, and it surprises me.
I’ve come to regret plenty of things, like trusting the wrong people, staying compliant for too long, and believing my brothers when they said they had my best interest at heart. But being with Ivan and feeling his hands on me, feeling chosen and wanted…I don’t regret that.
However, what I do question is him. Rather, if I can ever truly trust him.
Lying in bed with warm sunlight filtering through the curtains, I stare at the ceiling in the spare room, replaying that moment again. I think of how warm he had been, the way he held me after the fact, and more importantly, how gentle he had been with me even when I was getting impatient.
Ivan had every opportunity to just take what he wanted without a second thought, but in that moment, he seemed almost hesitant about being my first, like he was wondering if he even deserved it. He showed more restraint than I ever expected from someone like him.
And so far, he hasn’t hurt me at all.
That shouldn’t feel like a revelation, or like a bar to be met, but it is.
He hasn’t been aggressive, and even if I’ve been pushing him a little, he hasn’t raised his voice in days, and he hasn’t forced anything when I pull away. He’s being oddly patient, and I don’t fully know what to make of that.
Obviously, it doesn’t erase the cameras, the stalking, or the fact that I’m still stuck here. That trust doesn’t magically appear just because we slept together, and because he was decent to me throughout.
Annoyingly, part of me misses how comfortable his bed is, even if I chose to sleep here last night. I try not to dwell too long on the implications.
Eventually, I hear typical movement from the kitchen, like the clinking of Ivan stirring his coffee, the fridge door opening and closing, followed by approaching footsteps. Then, a light knock at the door draws my attention over there.
“Mila?”
“I’m decent.”
The door eases open, and Ivan’s gaze lands on me immediately. Even if he tries to keep it discreet, I catch the brief once-over he performs, even while I’m still under the covers. “Get dressed.”
“Why?” I ask, feeling another flare of suspicion in me.
“We’re going out today, like you asked.”
I hesitate, feeling both a flicker of hope in my chest and the urge not to believe him. ‘Going out’ could mean many different things, and I can’t just assume it’s good.
“You wanted to see more of Vegas again, so I’m giving you that,” he adds, leaning his shoulder against the doorframe, dressed in dark trousers and a matching button-down with the cuffs rolled up.
His hair’s half dry and styled neatly, looking every bit a man who knows exactly what he’s working with, as insufferable as that tends to be.
“Where?”
“You’ll see.”
“And this isn’t a trick?” I ask, studying his face for any kind of trap.
He gives me a pointed look. “No. No tricks.”
“And this isn’t a test?”
At that, Ivan sighs, but the slight grin on his lips gives away his surprisingly good mood. “You ask too many questions. We’re going out together for a few hours, then you’re coming back with me. That part is non-negotiable.”
I don’t move right away as I mull it over.
The stubborn part of me is annoyed this isn’t really what I asked for, but at the same time, that hope spreads a little more at the prospect of getting out and away from the condo for a little while.
I already know I’d feel better out there with him than stuck here on my own.
Finally, I move the blankets and get up. “Give me fifteen.”
I catch Ivan’s subtle smile and nod before he quietly exits again, leaving me to it. His obvious satisfaction both stirs something in me and makes me wish I could somehow wipe it from his face.
After washing up, my clothes are picked with more excitement than usual, and before long, we leave the house together.
I don’t want him to assume this supposed day out is anything too important to me, but in a way, it is.
If we really are seeing more of Vegas as he said, then that will be a significant change of pace.
Ivan grips the steering wheel a bit lighter while he navigates easily, obviously very familiar with the city.
He even keeps the radio on, not so quick to turn it down.
For once, he doesn’t look like he’s anticipating some disaster to happen at any given moment.
If Ivan’s relaxed, then I feel more inclined to ease up on my suspicions, too.
And when the Strip comes into view, I find my chest aching less.
It’s not like I’ve never seen it before, obviously, but it’s a rare thing for me to get out during normal hours, and to peruse as anyone else would. If I were ever out with the sun, then it was with a strict purpose, not for pleasure or leisure.
Taking in the people, the movement, and the lit-up signs despite it being daytime, I watch with more interest than necessary, and I don’t care to stop.
Ivan parks somewhere out of the way, then he gets out and circles to my side, giving me a look that’s silently telling me not to get out a moment too soon. With sunglasses on, he pops the door open and gives me room.
Amusement settles in his features while he looks me over. “First day on the Strip?”
“No,” I say with a vaguely unimpressed glance at him, but I drop it, feeling too relieved by the fresh air to be overly bothered. “I’m just not used to seeing it without Carlo and Cesare…or in the light like this.”
“Then soak it in,” he says, surprisingly thoughtful as we start walking. “The day’s yours.”
There’s something strangely supportive in that claim, and even if I don’t want to fall for it, I don’t hate it.
I never thought simply moving with the crowd like this, unencumbered by my brothers or hovering guards, could feel this freeing, but it does. It’s just us, blending in and being part of something outside of myself.
It’s an overload to the senses, with music spilling from the various establishments, food smells wafting and tangling with perfume and warm pavement, but there’s something appealing about it anyway.
A group of tourists stumbles past, clearly drunk before noon, and I let a laugh slip without meaning to.
From beside me, Ivan watches, but doesn’t comment on just how dialed in I am right now. Instead, he leans in and murmurs, “How long do you think they’ve been at it?”
The question surprises me, assuming he wouldn’t think much of anyone making a fool of themselves here, but I hum as I consider it. “Since last night?”
“I give them two days strong. Maybe pushing three. That one guy looked like he hadn’t showered in a while.”
I grimace at the thought, to which Ivan chuckles and continues walking alongside me.
It doesn’t take long for me to realize he’s allowing me to set the pace, rather than nudging me in the direction he wants, or pulling me from place to place. Something about that warms me more than it should.
We wander for a while, and as we stop for food and the occasional pop-up game booth, I lose track of time. In the moment, I don’t concern myself with it, even if part of me is still waiting for the catch to come out of left field.
Still, it doesn’t.
A light, jazzy melody catches my attention, and when I glance over to see a music store just up ahead, I stop at the first set of windows. Various instruments line the displays, polished and faintly glowing under warm lights. It’s something so simple, yet it looks more like heaven to me.
When Ivan pulls the door open, my heart does a little jump. “You better not be messing with me.”
He glances between me and the displays, and something dances in his eyes. “I thought you could use a browse.”
I still don’t move, finding myself caught in a place of disbelief and absolute glory. “Ivan…”
“Go in,” he says with a light grin and a nod towards the string section. “Pick one. Whatever you want.”
My heart almost stops entirely. “I can’t, I—”
“You can, and you will,” Ivan insists with a lighter tone than anticipated as he guides me in.
As stunned as I am, I’m not willing to let the moment pass me by, so I go in.
From inside, the world outside goes quiet as the light smell of wood and fresh varnish surrounds me like something familiar, and at once, I feel myself itching to touch everything. To test each one, like I’m waiting for the right instrument to call to me.
Before long, an associate comes to help us, sharing various details about the violins while I’m able to hold them and get a feel for them myself. When I try a gorgeous dark one, Ivan watches and listens patiently, far more involved than I thought he’d be.
“Looks like a perfect match,” he comments once I finish.
I glance at the price tag, then back to him hesitantly. “It’s expensive.”
To that, he chuckles. “Not in my books.”
Before I can refuse, Ivan purchases it without even blinking, and before long, I’m walking out with a violin case in hand that still shakes faintly. It feels more like carrying proof that any of this happened, and that I didn’t just imagine the strangely nice time we’ve had so far.
On the way back, while the case sits in my lap, I carefully hold it like a precious thing, and I pull in a slow breath. “Thank you for this…but I’m still not forgiving you completely.”
Unbothered by this, Ivan keeps his eyes on the road while he drives. “I didn’t do it for forgiveness. I realized you were right.”
When I look at him, I feel more receptive than usual. “About what?”
“Needing to live,” he murmurs, like it’s nothing too profound. “You’ve had enough taken from you. I don’t need to ruin that, too.”
Even with a head full of thoughts, all fighting for center stage in my mind, I can’t form a response to that. He has just given me more than he realizes with those words alone.
I don’t trust him fully, but in some odd way, this feels like something other than doom.