Chapter 21 - Adley

As we walked into the massive room, the ceiling at least twenty feet high and crisscrossed with thick metal beams, an attendant led us away from the main floor, where the ring sat in the middle of the floor toward the far right corner. Apparently, the match wouldn't begin for some time, and we had a private VIP booth where we could watch it broadcast live.

As we passed through the crowded space, with dozens and dozens of people packed inside and lined up at the numerous bars, I realized this wasn't exactly a "legal" boxing match.

The building was hardly where you'd go to see an actual match, and the crowd all had the same air about them as Ivan.

"Would you like anything to drink? Scotch? Champagne?"

I sat up straighter, suddenly aware that the attendant was asking us a question. Ivan smiled at him, ordering a scotch, and then they both looked at me. I had no idea what I wanted, so I just went with the only other thing the man offered.

"Champagne, please."

The attendant nodded and left us to the private booth. It was small and cozy compared to the large open space we'd walked through. What's more, the lighting outside was dim except for the ring itself, but back in here, it was as dark as a nightclub.

I felt slightly relieved for that, all too aware of how I was dressed—how much of my skin was exposed.

"You seem nervous." Ivan's voice cut through my inner ramblings, and I looked around the space, shrugging.

"A bit. I mean, I'm not exactly familiar with how all this goes down. I feel…vulnerable and weird in this dress, and how are you even supposed to hear this Donovan guy when we're tucked away in here?"

Ivan chuckled, and I wanted to smack him. Nothing was funny about this, and it felt far too much like I was being laughed at .

"Calm down, sweetheart. Everything's fine." He scooted closer to me on our curved, velvet-covered bench.

"That's easy for you to say." I knew I was sulking a bit, my lip jutting out in a slight pout.

"If you're going to pout, Adley, I could always bend you over my knee right here. Make sure everyone knows what a naughty girl you are."

My mouth fell open, but a strange thrill ran down my spine. The idea lit something up inside, but I wasn't ready to look too closely at that. Besides, we were here on business, and I knew Ivan really wanted to snoop on this guy.

Before I could speak, though, his hand came up to my cheek, his thumb stroking over my bottom lip.

"You're turning a delightful pink, Adley. Is that embarrassment or want?"

I couldn't answer, and furthermore, I didn't think I needed to. Ivan knew precisely what he was doing to me. He always did.

"I…Don't we need to keep an eye out for Donovan?"

His devilish smirk never faded, and as Ivan slid his hand down from my face, grazing over my arm, he gestured at the exit from our VIP room.

"He's got one of these as well. However, I've been told that he likes to watch the fights up close and personal. And he likes to bet. A lot. So, I'll follow him to the bookie's desk when we're closer to the fight."

"Oh. Okay then."

As the silence filled in, the attendant returned with our drinks, and I'd never been so fast to snatch up a champagne. It wasn't the taste I was looking for, of course, but it was alcohol, which was all that mattered at present.

"I really would have thought you'd order a scotch."

I looked over at Ivan as he sipped his drink, my stare lingering on the caramel-brown liquid.

"I…I got flustered. Next time."

When he finished with his sip, Ivan reached out and took the champagne from my hand, replacing it with his rocks glass.

"Problem solved."

"I…You don't have to do that." My voice was so damn squeaky I wanted to scream.

"I know I don't. I wanted to. Besides, it'll keep my head a bit clearer, too."

My body warmed, and Ivan stared at me until I took a drink of scotch. It was perfect, definitely aged, and the precise thing I wanted at the moment. It felt so silly to be so touched by his gesture. He'd just swapped drinks with me, but something about it made my chest squeeze—in a good way.

After amusing ourselves for nearly an hour, someone announced over a speaker that the betting was now open and that the fight would begin in thirty minutes.

"Well, it looks like the time has come. Finish your drink, and we'll head to the main floor."

I did as instructed, following Ivan as he led the way back to the ring from our private little, velvet-covered VIP booth.

As we walked, I pulled Ivan closer, whispering in his ears. "What did this guy do that has your boss so upset?"

He laughed lightly as I lowered my heels back to the ground and looped his arm through mine to lead me through the crowd.

"Boss is a bit of a stretch. I prefer…client. But in any case, Sergei and Lev are pissed because the guy is looking to make a bigger name for himself. In order to do that, he has to work with his allies to push out Vadims' holdings. Steal the territory."

I tried to keep up with what he meant, understanding that Ivan had to be a bit discreet since we were out in public.

"So, they're upset because a competitor is looking to set up ‘stores' where they already have businesses."

With a grin, Ivan nodded, eyeing me as the corners of his mouth turned down. "Exactly. That's a very apt way to put it."

A nervous chuckle bled from me. "I guess I'm sort of getting the hang of this."

"Well, then, let's see if you can keep up at the bookie."

We made our way over to the large area that was bustling with activity. There were dozens of people clamoring to place their bets at the counter, and only three people were taking "customers" at a time.

Several intimidating bouncers circled the place, their hulking forms making Ivan look average in comparison, which was saying something. Their stares roamed over the crowd on the lookout for anything that might signal foul play or sudden violence.

Considering the place's illegal nature, I was a bit surprised to see them. Still, I imagined that crowd control was necessary whenever there were large groups of people, and not even criminals wanted to get injured in a brawl.

As we approached the counter, Ivan grabbed my wrist, holding me back from walking up to the next available teller.

"What?"

He gestured to the man being helped at the next station to our left. "Donovan. Let's get in line behind him."

"This may sound childish," I whispered, "but you want us to cut in line? Is that wise?"

Ivan smirked, pulling me after him as he pushed through a few drunk patrons to the line behind Donovan. When we got there, he paused, reaching for a woman's thin purse strap.

Slipping out of his sleeve was a tiny pair of scissors. I didn't even see him grab them, and then Ivan was cutting the connection from the strap to the purse's body. The thing flung loose, tumbling to the ground.

"Shit!" The woman cried out.

Her date, likely another mafioso, pulled her to the side and began helping her clean up the mess of makeup and pills that had spilled all over the ground. Not that he looked happy about it.

Seamlessly, Ivan nudged me along and slid his way into their spot without anyone noticing, too distracted by the commotion he'd caused.

When Ivan looked over, I nodded with my brows up. "Smooth."

"Thank you."

After that, I could see Ivan concentrating on what Donovan was saying in front of us.

"Who's the dunce?" Donovan's voice was quiet, and I could just make out his words and thick Irish accent around the noise.

The teller glanced down at him, cocking a brow. "Sir, I'm afraid I don't—"

"Yeah, you do. It's Tommy. I called and spoke to Saul. So, who's the dunce?"

With his eyes wide, the man behind the counter slowly nodded, looking down at something beneath his main book.

"I believe Rodrigo is the dunce tonight."

"Twenty grand on Rodrigo it is. Pleasure doing business with you."

Donovan offered up a card similar to Ivan's, and when the teller was through running it, he handed it back, and Donovan left the counter.

"Well," I whispered to Ivan, "did that help us?"

He grinned—wide and genuine. "It did. Come on."

Ivan pulled me up to the counter with him, going up to the same teller. "Hello there. Saul instructed me that Rodrigo is the dunce, yeah?"

The teller nodded.

Leaning in closer, Ivan whispered, "How much to get the guy an education?"

For a moment, I was sure that the teller was going to kick us out or something. He glared down at Ivan hard for several long seconds. But when Ivan didn't flinch, the guy nodded.

"Education is expensive, but," he glanced down at that paper beneath his books again, "looks like Rodrigo hasn't been to class yet tonight. A lesson can be arranged, but I must remind you that this is done separately by the proprietor, and any and all altercations that arise as a result will be your responsibility. My associates and I will not be held liable."

Ivan nodded once. "Understood."

"Ten thousand," the teller replied, and aside from the fact that I didn't know what the fuck they were talking about, I knew that was a lot of money to pay.

"Done." Ivan presented his card. "And put another twenty down on Morozova."

The teller smiled. "Of course, sir."

After a moment, the teller gave Ivan his card back, and Ivan held out his arm for me to follow him.

"Pleasure working with you," Ivan glanced at the man's name tag, "James."

"And you, sir."

As we left the counter, Ivan headed in the same direction as Donovan, keeping a close tail on him, which made me hustle in my ridiculous dress.

"Now what?" I whispered.

"Now, we watch."

Ivan tracked Donovan to the side of the ring, where he stood with a few other men who were looking smug and satisfied. When one of the bouncers passed by again, Ivan got the man's attention, leaving me to stand by one of the large poles that supported the roof.

I couldn't hear what they were saying, but Ivan pointed back at Donovan, and the bouncer made a face that could only be described as a snarl. Ivan shook hands with the man and walked back over to me.

Without saying a word, he pointed at Donovan, and I just watched, confused and intrigued. In seconds, however, a fleet of bouncers surrounded Donovan and his men. They hauled the men off their feet, working to drag them away from the ring.

Donovan looked furious and fought against the massive thugs gripping him as he cursed and screamed out.

"Who the fuck did this?!" Donovan thrashed harder to no avail. "Don't you know who I am?! This is fucking bullshit!"

Punches started to be thrown by Donovan's crew, and he even tried one on the colossal guy who was pulling him away by the back of his shirt. The disgusting sounds of bones cracking and blood splattering to the ground turned my stomach, and Ivan held a hand out in front of me as Donovan was yanked past us.

"You'll all fucking pay for this shit! Let go of me! I—"

But he stopped, Donovan's eyes locking on Ivan as he was dragged off from the VIP booths to the opposite side of the building. His eyes flared wide as they landed on Ivan, and a chill ran down my spine that had nausea pooling in my gut.

"You," he growled, and in a quick jerk, he managed to slip his bouncer.

Donovan rushed at Ivan, who shoved me backward toward the pole. I hit it with a slap just as Donovan launched his fist forward and smashed it into Ivan's jaw. The noise was awful, and I flinched back as the Irishman punched Ivan.

It was a cheap shot. Ivan had been ensuring I was out of harm's way when Donovan clocked him. As Ivan righted, Donovan took advantage of the momentary confusion to jab his fist into Ivan's face again.

Blood bloomed from Ivan's brow as Donovan's fist slid over it, and I flinched again.

I was about to yell when I considered where I was. Yelling Ivan's name or trying to help could very well be the worst idea, and I didn't want Ivan getting in any more trouble than he already had.

Donovan lined up to hit him again, but this time, Ivan caught his fist and punched back. Ivan's large hand smashed into Donovan's nose, and the guy flew backward, hitting the ground.

Might be able to throw a punch, but Donovan clearly can't take one.

The bouncer who'd grabbed him before was finally able to push through the crowd and hurried over to Donovan, pulling him up off the floor as his nose gushed blood.

"You all right, sir?" The bouncer asked Ivan.

"Fine. He's all yours."

The bouncer pulled Donovan off, and when they were out of sight, I rushed up to Ivan's side.

"Christ, are you okay? You're bleeding pretty good."

He shrugged, touching his brow gently to see the red dripping from it himself. "Ah, I'm fine. I've had worse. Besides, that should keep Donovan out of our hair for a while."

I rolled my eyes, crossing my arms over my chest. "There had to be a better way of doing that."

With a smirk, Ivan offered his arm to me. "Maybe. But it worked. How about we head back home so you can patch me up?"

The innuendo was clear, and as much as I wanted to be upset with Ivan, I was still impressed by what he'd been able to pull off. And I knew that as soon as we got back and Ivan had me alone again, he'd be deep inside me before I could get so much as a bandaid on his head.