Page 11 of Unwilling Bratva Bride

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 9thStreet.”

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 eightminutes 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.”

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