Chapter 5 - Adley

Ivan's car, his fucking Escalade, was way too nice. There were customizations I didn't realize were even an option, and something told me that it was probably bulletproof, too. I was buckled in tight in the front seat, and even though I'd been just as close to him in the bar, I felt awkward riding in the car with Ivan.

"Where to, sweetheart?" He looked over at me, his finger poised on the navigation system.

"Oh, right." I gave him the bank's address and watched as he entered it.

"Looks like a quick little drive, and then we can head to your old house. Gotta say I'm dying to meet your folks."

My heart dropped to my feet. I had no fucking idea how that was going to go, and I still didn't know how to bring up the fact that I hadn't talked to them about any of this. I was sure that Ivan wouldn't give a shit about my discomfort , the idea of explaining to my folks that I was marrying a mobster to save their asses not sitting well in the slightest.

"I'm sure they'll love you," I joked, not knowing what else to say, and then we were off to the downtown branch of the Republic Bank of Chicago.

***

We parked in the lot a block down from the bank, and my heart hammered against my ribs so damn hard that I could hardly breathe. I looked down at myself as we walked to the front door. I hadn't really dressed for a meeting at the bank, but I guess it didn't matter. We were going there to pay off the accounts, so who cared how I was dressed?

At least, I'm sure that's how Ivan felt.

"Ladies first," Ivan drawled, opening the door for me as we reached the main entrance to the bank.

Rolling my eyes, I forced a smile. "Gee, thanks."

I went inside, looking for a banker we could speak to about the account. The room seemed pretty full of other patrons, and the stations at the central desk were all occupied, so I stood in line behind someone, ready to wait for them to finish with their business.

Ivan walked right past me and toward a section of the bank at the back, where several offices were in a row.

"What the hell? Ivan, stop. Wait!" I whisper-screamed the last word, running after him as he walked right to the first open door and went inside.

Oh my God. This is insane. The fuck does he think he's doing?

But when I reached the office, Ivan was already in the middle of talking with someone, and I was stupidly flustered.

"We're here to settle accounts on the—" Ivan turned over his shoulder, looking back at me, "what's it called?"

The confused banker glanced up at me from his desk. His brows were at his hairline, and I could hear my pulse in my ears.

"Umm, sorry. The, umm, MacCormack bodega. On ninth," I offered, hoping the guy could appreciate my apologetic expression.

"Very well then. Have a seat." The man, Jacob Winslow, going by the placard on his desk, gestured to the two chairs in front of him.

Ivan sat down, crossing one leg over the other at the knee, and it was only then that I realized he was still chewing on that damn toothpick. He looked over at me, and I mimed throwing it away. Still, Ivan just acted confused, his exaggerated expressions grating on my nerves.

"Out," I whispered. "Throw it—"

"All right, Ms. McCormack. I see that your family's establishment is several months past due. Is it your intention to bring the account current? Is that right?"

I refocused, ignoring Ivan, and nodded. "Yes. That's correct."

Mr. Winslow narrowed his eyes on me, and I knew he was judging the jeans and leather jacket that we were both wearing. "How will you be settling the account?"

"Card." Ivan's voice was sharp as a blade, cutting through the air in a slick slice as he reached for his wallet and pulled out that same weird credit card from before.

"All right," the banker replied, clearly suspicious of this guy I'd brought with me, and for good reason. "The total to bring the account into good standing is twelve thousand nine-hundred and forty-eight dollars."

Ivan didn't even back an eye. He just leaned forward and handed the banker his card. "Sounds good."

My mouth fell open. I knew that's why we'd come here, but I was still shocked that the guy could do it.

Mr. Winslow took the card and ran it through his back-end system. It only took a few seconds for the thing to pop up as approved, and suddenly, my parents weren't in debt to the bank anymore. My eyes stung with unshed tears that I was decidedly not going to let out.

"You know, while you're there, why don't you just run it for next month too? Make sure we're all in the clear since it's already the fifteenth."

The banker glared at Ivan, clearly unimpressed by his cocky, nonchalant attitude and unhappy that the card had been processed correctly.

"Very well."

The guy took the payment for the next month and then looked at me. "You're all set, Ms. McCormack. Thank you for using the Republic Bank of Chicago for your loan servicing needs."

"Umm, great. Thank you, too."

There was literally nothing else to do while we were there, so I stood up from the chair, Ivan doing the same, and then followed him out of the bank.

When we got to the car again, I was more than a little shell-shocked. Just like that, Ivan had paid off the bodega's debt, and he was prepared to keep offering up a hefty chunk of change to keep the thing afloat.

Something akin to jealousy burned in my chest. It was so easy for him to just pay it off. My parents, the entire family, had been struggling for years. Working tirelessly day in and day out was our fucking norm. And Ivan…he just got what he wanted.

"You all right there, sweetheart? I'd have thought you'd be excited about being out of debt. But you're staring at the dashboard like someone just kicked your puppy."

Whipping my attention to him, I glared. "First off, what the fuck? Who kicks puppies? And don't answer. Yes, I'm thrilled my family won't be kicked out of their house and lose their business. Thrilled. But you just walked in there and did it like it was nothing. Do you know how hard we'd have to work to raise that kind of money ourselves? Because I do, and we still didn't get it. Everything just seems so damn easy for you, and I can't say I know what that's like."

I looked forward again, crossing my arms over my chest. "And for your information, I've never had a puppy or any pet for that matter. Too expensive."

There was silence then, and Ivan sucked in an audible breath reaching for the navigational system again.

"Address, sweetheart. We still need to swing by your place and pick up a few things. Or would you like to skip that part now?"

The idea almost seemed tempting, but I'd be leaving without saying goodbye, and I couldn't have that.

"1042 9 th Street."

Apprehension gnawed at my guts as he entered the address, and we started driving. I needed to see my parents and the twins to say goodbye, but I still didn't know how I was supposed to pull that off. And now, I felt so weirdly indebted to the man sitting next to me that my resolve to see this through actually…strengthened.

He had upheld his end of the bargain. Your turn, Adley. And you've never let someone down before.

My brain churned up useless idea after useless idea until the navigational system declared that we were about eight minutes away from the bodega. I couldn't think of anything to tell my parents, so I finally broke the silence of the car.

"What am I supposed to tell them? I can't exactly say that I'm going to be a mobster wife to save them insurmountable debt."

He glanced over as we sat at a red light. "You didn't tell them anything about meeting with me?"

"No, okay. I just said I was going out." Guilt stung in my chest, heavy and sickening. I never lied.

"Ha!" Ivan chuckled. "Well, you've gotten yourself into a little pickle there, haven't you?"

"Do you enjoy this?" I glared at him, knowing it was true and not enjoying it being pointed out. "Watching me suffer while you sit there and make jokes."

"Yes, actually," Ivan smirked.

"Ugh. Great. You're so helpful."

The light went green, and Ivan pulled through the intersection. Quickly flicking his eyes to me, he grinned—toothpick still in place.

"I am. Just paid for your rent, remember?"

I rolled my eyes. "Haha. Very funny. You're my big hero."

"Ooh, I think I like the sound of that." There was something dark in his voice that made the hairs on my arms stand up.

"And," he drawled, taking out the toothpick and pinching it between his fingers, "why don't you tell them that you found a job as a live-in housekeeper, and I'm your new employer? I've offered a gracious signing bonus to have you start right away, and the pay is incredible. A true stroke of luck."

My jaw went slack. That was actually a perfect suggestion. It covered the basis of why I wouldn't be there, but they'd know they could still call me. And best of all, we knew that fancy rich people did that shit all the time.

We'd delivered to a few places where the housekeeper was the only person we ever saw. Apparently, rich folks also really enjoyed getting special imported food, even if it was just meat and butter from Ireland.

"See," Ivan added, his smirk still cemented in place as he stuck the toothpick back between his teeth, "helpful."

"You're going to need to do something about," I gestured at him, "that. My parents may be older, but they're not dumb, and neither are my siblings."

Ivan looked down at himself incredulously, the corners of his mouth turning down in a way that made my own tick up in a half-smirk. He was way too funny for his own good. Hell, for my own good.

"You don't think a rich man looking for a housekeeper would wear a leather jacket?"

"Not one like that," I countered.

He snickered, holding back the laugh to play into his role of being offended. But I was right, and he knew it. Ivan did not look like a rich man who could take care of our family's money troubles by hiring me to clean his massive estate. He didn't look like he owned a massive estate.

"Fine, fine. As it turns out, I have a change of clothes in here for those pesky situations where I need to be more…What was the term we used? Oh, right. Discreet."

He winked at me, and damn my stupid heart for the way it skipped a beat, loving the flirtatious way he teased.

"Right." I nodded. "Well, I imagine that you need to change quite often in your line of work. Can't just go shaking down business owners for a cut of their profits in jeans."

Ivan smiled over at me as we pulled onto my street, and there was something about it. We played off each other well. We both knew it. And the jokes and jabs we both exchanged landed so perfectly in sync that you'd have thought we planned them.

Mom calls it chemistry. And damn, we have it in spades.

"That's actually not my specialty. But if you need any dirt on someone, maybe an ex-boyfriend who needs his herpes diagnosis blasted all over the web, you know who to call."

"I'll keep that in mind," I replied, my voice low as I shook my head.

When he parked, I unbuckled myself and reached for the door handle, pausing just before I got out.

"I'll wait for you outside while you change, Mr. Ustinov."

His eyes darkened as he smirked all the harder. "Don't leave on my account."

I swallowed—hard, but somehow, I managed to school my expression. "I don't think I'll be missing anything."

"Ouch." He pulled off his leather jacket and stepped into the back seat of the large SUV. "Suit yourself."