23. Ivan

23

IVAN

I ’ve never felt so torn about anything in my life as I do about how I feel when it comes to Charlotte.

What started out as a physical obsession has turned into more. Every moment that I’ve spent with her has changed it, molded it, until it’s grown into something that threatens to take me down, too. I wanted her from the first moment that I saw her, but it’s more than that, now.

I genuinely care about her. I’m more than a little afraid that I’m falling in love with her. And none of that can go anywhere.

It doesn’t matter. I can’t let her go.

I don’t log onto the site when I get home. I don’t want to know if Charlotte is online, or if she got on hoping to talk to Venom after I left. I can’t stand the thought of her getting off to another man—even if that man actually is me. She doesn’t know it’s me, and that’s the part that’s driving me fucking insane.

I get in the shower, turning the water on as hot as I can stand it, thoughts of her soft mouth and body under mine earlier driving away every other rational thought until I’ve made myself come thinking about her. I stand there afterward, shuddering with the aftershocks of pleasure, and I tell myself to let her go. To break her heart now so that I don’t shatter it later.

My world is too violent for her. She wouldn’t want me if she knew half the things I’d done. And she won’t want me once she finds out I’ve lied to her.

In finding a way to have her, I’ve ensured that I’m always going to eventually lose her.

“Fuck!” I slam a hand against the wall, gritting my teeth as hot water runs over me, head bowed and muscles tense. I’ve teased her about keeping her in a cage, my pretty little dove, but I’ve built myself a cell and given her the key. I’m never going to stop wanting her—and the longer this goes on, the worse it will get.

And she’s far from the only thing I should be thinking about. I’ve been putting off meeting with Agent Bradley for as long as I can, but I can’t get out of seeing him the next day. I find myself at the diner just after the breakfast rush, sliding into the booth across from him where he’s sitting with the same cup of black coffee in front of him.

“You look a bit worse for wear, Kariyev,” he says with a raised eyebrow, and I scowl at him.

“My father had feelings about losing Sabrina Petrov. He made sure I was aware of them.”

“Well, I’m sure she’s grateful for your sacrifice. Although, for a girl like her, witness protection might be almost as bad as the fate your father had planned.” He chuckles dryly, as if he’s made a funny joke. “No designer heels and hair extensions where we’re sending her to hide.”

“I’m sure she prefers that to being sold to some billionaire,” I tell him coldly, although inwardly, I can’t help but feel bad for her. It is better, I’m sure of that, but I can’t imagine she’s going to be happy, wherever it is that she’s going. It feels monumentally unfair that our fathers’ private quarrel with each other has turned her world upside down, and now she’s going to suffer for it, if less so than she would have otherwise.

“These are the names of the men who were there that night, that I know of for sure.” I push a piece of paper across the table towards him. “There’s also my brother, Lev Kariyev. But good luck trying to take him down. He’s my father’s heir. You’ll need more than this to go after him.”

“And what about you?” Something cold and dangerous glitters in Bradley’s eyes, as if he thinks he’s about to catch me in a plot. “What happens to you if your brother, the heir, goes down?”

I snort at that, leaning back. “If you think I’m doing all of this to orchestrate my brother’s fall so I can take over for my father, guess again. He has two other sons before me, and they’d eat each other alive before they’d let me have the spot. I want out , Bradley. Not further in.”

Bradley raises an eyebrow, but says nothing for a moment. He tucks the paper away, then looks at me coolly across the table. “This is a good start, Kariyev. Next time we talk, I expect more.”

“More?” I glare at him. “I told you, I’m not in on the trafficking. Me helping you to get Sabrina out is only going to push me further out of it all, not closer. I’m not sure how much more I can get you, besides more of what I’ve already been doing. Movements, shipment times, that sort of thing.”

Bradley stands up, as if he hasn’t heard a word I’ve said. A heavy hand lands on my shoulder. “Figure it out, Kariyev,” is all he says. And then he’s striding towards the door, the chime of the bell letting me know he’s left.

I rest my head against the back of the seat, closing my eyes for a moment, colors swimming in the dark of my vision. Exhaustion sweeps over me, and for a minute, I just want to quit. All of it. I want to leave, and dare any of them to come after me. Even Charlotte, for that brief moment, isn’t enough to keep me here.

But they’d find me, eventually. If not my family, then the feds will. I can’t run far enough to get away from them, not forever, and I’m not willing to end up in one of their cages.

Which means continuing to play the game I dealt myself into, at least for now.

The worst part of the day is that I have somewhere I’m expected to be tonight. Somewhere where my family expects me to be, specifically, and just the thought makes my teeth grate. I want to see Charlotte, to talk to her, to be with her, but there are some family obligations that I can’t get out of.

Tonight is one of those.

My father is throwing a party on his yacht. I’ve been ordered to attend, and I suspect it’s so he can see the aftermath of his “lesson.” Lev called me with the “invitation” a few days ago, and made it clear that it wasn’t one I could decline.

A driver is waiting for me by the time I come downstairs. I got ready at my penthouse, suspecting my father would send a driver. I wonder, as I slide into the back, if he realizes how predictable he actually is. If he knows how easily I can anticipate what he’ll do next.

It doesn’t matter, I think grimly, smoothing my hands down the crisp fabric of my suit. I still haven’t been able to get away.

All three of my brothers are at the party. Lev is waiting for me on the dock, just as the yacht is getting ready to sail. My father’s excess is already on full display—nearly-naked women carrying drinks and trays with party drugs, billionaires in suits splayed out across couches, women in their laps, snorting lines, doing shots. Music pounds through the air, and I see my father on the far side of the deck, deep in conversation with someone as the yacht pulls away, heading out onto the water for the remainder of the night.

I’ve been to my father’s parties before. I’ve never minded the drugs and excess before this; I’ve even partaken in it. A high, a woman, a hit of a drug, or a moment of pleasure—all of that makes being around my family for the duration of something like this much more tolerable. But tonight, it all feels distasteful.

Charlotte has given me a taste of something different. Made me crave something different. And now, that something different is all that I want.

I cross the deck to where my father is standing, knowing he’ll want to see me. There’s no use putting off the inevitable. His stony gaze rakes over me, taking in the nearly healed wounds on my face, and he nods.

“Looking better,” he says, and I shrug.

“What can I say? I heal up nicely.”

“A good Bratva man knows how to take a punch as well as give one.” There’s something almost approving in his gaze, as if my ability to take his beating somehow raises me in his approval. The thought turns my stomach, and I have to fight to hide my distaste.

“Take that sour look off your face,” he says flatly, and I know I didn’t entirely succeed. “I invited you here tonight to let you know that you’re forgiven. You’ve paid your penance, you took your punishment. Now—enjoy.” He waves his hand, indicating the party spread out across the yacht. “And talk to Lev before you indulge too much,” he adds, his stony gaze holding mine for a moment without blinking. “He has something to tell you.”

I can’t fucking wait. “Will do,” I tell Dima in a clipped voice, turning away to walk across the deck. The night ahead of me feels interminable, especially since I have no interest in the drugs or the women on offer. I grab a shot of vodka off of a passing tray, tossing back the top-shelf alcohol and relishing the burn down my throat. I might get drunk. There’s no real harm in that, and it might be the only way that I manage to make the night tolerable.

I hear heavy footsteps behind me as I down another shot, and turn to see Lev standing there. “Shit. It’s you.” I grab another shot before the server can move on. “ Otets told me to talk to you tonight, before the party went on too long.” I have no real desire to know what my brother has to say, but much like the conversation with my father, finding out is inevitable. I might as well get it over with.

The cold smile at the corners of Lev’s mouth gives me pause. He leans in, his hand on my arm, gripping it in an almost brotherly embrace as he speaks very close to my ear.

“We know about her, Ivan.”

The heat from the alcohol is replaced in an instant, by a cold hand squeezing my chest. “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I manage, my voice remarkably smooth despite the fact that it feels as if a fist is wrapped around my heart. “Which her are you referring to? There’s been quite a few.”

Lev’s hand tightens on my arm. “Don’t play games, Ivan. Little Charlotte won’t last long if you do. I’ll take my time with her, if we have to use her against you, but I have a feeling she’s very breakable. And you know how I can lose patience sometimes, with my toys. That’s why you’re the better torturer, brother. I don’t have the finesse .”

My blood is ice, my head pounding. I want to kill him, my hands clenching into fists, and only the knowledge that to do so would certainly result in them taking Charlotte stops me. I take a step back, wresting myself out of his grip, and when I look at him, the expression on his face tells me that he’s not bluffing.

“You’re up to something, Ivan,” Lev says silkily. “ Otets and I aren’t sure what, yet. But there’s something in that devious mind of yours, and we intend to make sure you continue using your talents for us . So remember, if you step out of line—” He smiles gleefully. “I’ll enjoy making you watch while I make an example of her. You can even critique my technique, if you like. I’m sure I could learn a lot.”

I want to get the fuck off of the yacht. I want to be as far from Lev, from my father, from my whole fucking family as possible. But I can’t , and I know that’s why they picked now to tell me this, to trap me here on the fucking ship in the middle of this hedonistic display, and remind me who I belong to.

What they will always take from me, if I try to grasp anything else for myself.

When the next server comes past with a tray of shots, I yank it out of his unsuspecting hands, carrying it with me as far from the party as I can get. Leaning against the railing, I down shot after shot, looking down at the dark water and blearily wondering if I could dive over and swim to shore.

By the time the yacht docks again, I’m well and truly drunk. I know my father and Lev have probably noticed, but I’m beyond giving a shit. I drag myself off of the ship and down to the waiting car, falling into the backseat as it takes me back to my penthouse.

For the second time in a row after seeing my father, I end up sitting on the floor of my shower, letting the hot water beat down on me. The cold feeling hasn’t left me, icy fingers wrapped around my heart as I think about the fact that my brothers know about Charlotte.

In all my games with her, I foolishly thought they were the one thing I could protect her from. I couldn’t protect her from eventually uncovering my lies, or the truth of who I am, or how violent my world is. I couldn’t stop either of us from getting hurt, eventually, because of this obsession I’ve fostered. But I thought I could keep her safe from them.

I should warn her. I should tell her to get away. I should come clean and tell her the danger that she’s in, but I’m not sure she’d believe me. The world that I live in, one full of Bratva and mafia, criminals, and kingpins, isn’t one that everyone knows about. She might think I’m making it up to justify my lies. She might never speak to me again, but stay put, leaving herself wide open for my family to use her against me.

I could take her away myself. I could make her go with me, until she understands.

I run my hands through my wet hair at the thought, my eyes shut tight. Until she understands what, exactly? That I’m falling in love with her? That I want to keep her, even though I have no right to her? That she can trust me to protect her, even though I’ve only ever told her half the truth at best?

I could keep her captive, but she’d hate me for it. Still, if it’s the only way?—

I know it’s wrong to even consider it. But my imagination is out of control, trying to fathom some way out of this where I don’t lose her.

I can’t let her go. Not now, and maybe not ever. And I refuse to let my family take her from me.

—

In the morning, my head is pounding, and I don’t feel any more at ease. The anxiety has settled into a ball of ice in my stomach, and I get up despite my headache and nausea, leaving my penthouse to watch Charlotte go to work. The sight of her walking into the building, happy and unbothered, eases the feeling a little, but not enough. She’s safe for now, but only until my family decides they need to leverage something against me. And then?—

I need her. I need to be close to her, to feel her in my arms, to remember that she’s real and safe and mine . I’m tempted to fall back on the old staple of meeting her at her spot for lunch, but it doesn’t feel like enough. With my heart slamming against my ribs, I pull my phone out, texting her.

Ivan: I know it’s a work night, but meet me for dinner? I want to see you.

Charlotte: It’s been less than a day and a half since we saw each other.

Ivan: Is this too much? I miss you. I shouldn’t say that, but I do.

Charlotte: No, it’s sweet. Dinner it is.

I pick her up at six that evening in the Mustang. Instead of going anywhere fancy, I take her to a little place I know of just outside the city, a bistro that has a quiet, rustic vibe, but serves food as good as anything I’ve had downtown. Logically, I know that if Lev or any of my brothers are following me, just getting outside the city limits won’t stop them from watching where I’m going. But it feels better, safer, and that’s what I need right now.

“Are you alright?” Charlotte asks as we sit down, looking at me with concern in her eyes. “You seem off. Worried about something.”

I shrug, glancing down at the menu. Everything here is good, but nothing sounds particularly appetizing. “Work stress.” It’s not entirely a lie. “I haven’t been sleeping well. Just a lot on my mind, I guess.”

She tilts her head slightly. “And coming out to have dinner with me makes you feel better?” There’s a hint of surprise in her voice, as if that idea seems foreign to her. As if she’s never had a boyfriend tell her that his night was made better by having her there.

“Of course it does.” I look at her, wanting her to believe this, at least, even if she eventually stops believing anything else I’ve ever said. “Every time I see you, Charlotte, my day lights up. You are, without a doubt, the best person I’ve ever known. And when I’m with you, the rest of it—it feels unimportant.”

Her eyes widen, and she sets her fork down, looking as if she’s struggling with what to say. “That’s the sweetest thing anyone has ever said to me,” she finally says, softly. “You’re a very sweet man, Ivan Vasili.”

I want to laugh, then, because no one on earth has ever described me as a sweet man. I don’t know a single person who ever could, except for, apparently, Charlotte Williams. But that urge dies away on the heels of hearing her say the false name I gave her, the cover that I set up from the very beginning to keep her from knowing who I really am.

“I’m not sure that’s true,” I tell her instead, reaching across the table to touch her hand. “But I’m glad that you think it is.”

For all that she was willing to make small talk over dinner, telling me about her friends and what she’s been doing at work, asking me about my hobbies—most of which I can’t tell her—she’s unusually quiet on the drive back to her apartment. I look over at her when I pull up to the curb, reaching out to rest a hand on her knee.

The tension is thick in the car, but it isn’t only the desire that I always feel when I’m near her. It’s the weight of all the lies I’ve woven around us, the weight of my family’s threat, and even though Charlotte knows none of that, I have a suspicion that she can feel it, too.

“Charlotte?” I murmur her name, and she turns to look at me, her green eyes luminous in the dim glow filtering in from the streetlights.

“I want you to come up,” she says softly. “I know you said you wanted to take it slow, but, Ivan?—”

I’ve already put the car in gear, pulling away from the curb and towards the entrance to the underground lot where I can park. I might have wanted to take things slow the last time I saw her, but that was before my father’s threat, before Lev leaned close to my ear and whispered the things he would do to Charlotte if he got ahold of her.

The emotions warring inside of me are too many and too complex to unravel them all. It’s not only possessiveness and jealousy and anger and fear, but others, too—and somewhere in the mix of all of it is the undeniable fact that I care for Charlotte more than I ever meant to. More than I ever should have.

And I need her. If she wants me, I can’t tell her no.

A good man would walk away, I think as I park the Mustang and kill the engine, my entire body throbbing with anticipation. A good man would try to get her to go somewhere safe, and then leave.

But I’m not a good man. For all that I’ve tried to do good things, deep down, there’s sin in my blood. I’ve been raised in it, steeped in it, and I will never, ever be the kind of man that anyone could call good.

So instead, the moment I open her car door, and she steps out, I wrap my hand in her hair and push her back against the side of the car, my mouth slanting hungrily over hers.

I can feel in every inch of her that she’s made the decision to take this all the way. She responds to the kiss without hesitation, her hands sliding over my chest, my shoulders, gripping me beneath my jacket as she arches against me and tangles her tongue with mine. Her breathing is quick and fast, her chest heaving, and I want to pick her up and fuck her right there against the car, without waiting a minute longer.

But I also don’t want my first time with her to be like that—quick and rushed and dirty. If I’m lucky enough to get more than that, I’ll fuck her in every filthy way she’s ever dreamed, but this time?—

I pull away from the kiss, as breathless as she is, rock-hard and foggy with lust. She sends my desire into overdrive in a way that no other woman ever has, and right now, all I can think about is getting her upstairs and into bed.

“Come on,” Charlotte says softly, grabbing my hand and tugging me towards the elevator, as if she’s thinking the same thing. I follow her, and the thought enters my head that this is my last chance to walk away. To do the right thing.

But that ship sailed a long time ago.

We’re barely in the elevator before I’m kissing her again, pressing her up against the wall with my hands in her hair as the floors tick upward. She lets out a soft moan against my lips, and I rock my hips against her, letting her feel exactly what she does to me. Exactly what I’ve been waiting to give her, ever since that first night at Masquerade.

“It’s been—” She takes a shaky breath against my mouth, looking up at me with those wide, soft green eyes. “It’s been a little while. I haven’t been with anyone else since?—”

She breaks off, biting her lip, and even though I was almost sure of that, I feel a wave of satisfaction from knowing for sure. That from the night I met her, there has been no one else who has touched her, seduced her, made her come. It’s always been me, since that night.

The doors chime, sliding open, and Charlotte leads me down the hall to her door. There’s a sudden shyness in her movements as she unlocks it, and as she steps inside, I look down at her, seeing the way she’s chewing on her lip, her fingers trembling a little as she drops the keys into the entryway bowl.

“Are you sure about this?” I ask softly, and she nods.

“I’m sure.”

My hands land on her waist, turning her, pushing her up against the door as I kiss her again. I’ve forgotten about any part of me that hurts—all that matters now is feeling her against me, the way her body softens with each drag of my mouth over hers, even as mine tenses and hardens, wanting her with a desperation that makes it hard to go slow.

I pick her up, my hands sliding under the curves of her ass as I lift her up against the door, and her legs go around my waist, kissing her furiously as I grind into her. She lets out another breathless moan, and I remember vividly the way it felt when she came on my lap in the car, working herself to an orgasm as I watched her.

I need to taste her. I need to make her come again, but this time, with my mouth. “Which way is the bedroom?” I murmur against her lips, barely breaking the kiss, and she motions in the direction of it, gesturing as I step away from the door, still carrying her the whole way.

With a quick jerk of my shoulder, I push the door open, walking straight to the bed and spilling her back onto it. She looks up at me, her lips parted, her eyes wide, and I slide my jacket off, letting it fall to the floor as I return her gaze hungrily.

“Last chance,” I murmur softly. “Tell me if you want to change your mind, Charlotte. Because once we start—” I let my eyes slide over her, taking in every inch, and I know nothing has ever been as true as what I’m about to say.

“Once we start, there’s no going back.”