Page 4 of Endless Love

“You’re lying!” I whirl to face him, emotions bubbling up fast and thick in the face of something that seems so incredibly impossible. “You’re lying about all of this. I don’t know why, but?—”

“I’m not lying.” Ivan’s voice is infuriatingly calm, the kind of measured calm that only seems to throw my panic into overdrive.

“Youarelying!” I fling myself at him, shoving him hard as my palms connect with his chest. He barely budges; he’s a wall of muscle, and I’m not all that strong. “Give me my phone! I want to call Jaz! I want to go home!”

Dimly, I can hear myself. I’m aware that I’m crossing into tantrum territory, that I’m losing it, but in a strange sort of way, it feelsgood. I’ve never lost it. I don’t think that, other than that night when I found out Nate was cheating on me, I’ve even ever yelled at anyone. It’s not just this that’s bubbling up out of me, it’s years of shoving things down, not speaking up, keeping the peace, keepingquiet. And god, it almost feelsgood.

“Charlotte—” Ivan tries to catch my hands in his, but I slam them against his chest again, and again. “Charlotte,please. Listen to me. I’m doing this for your own good?—”

“Oh, shut thefuckup!” I screech, that last sentence tipping me entirely over the edge. Rearing back, I swing, slapping him across the face hard.

The crack of my palm against his flesh startles even me, the hot sting of it burning into my hand, too, as if I’ve hurt us both. Ivan’s eyes are wide, and he freezes, as if he can’t believe I did that.

To be fair, I can’t believe it, either.

This time, when I go to hit him again, he succeeds in grabbing both of my wrists. “Charlotte!” My name is a whip-crack this time, as sharp as the impact of my hand against his face. “Charlotte, if you go home, they will take you. And what my father will do to you, my brothers—Lev…” he trails off, an expression wrenching his face that’s something between misery and hate. “I can’t let that happen, Charlotte. Not when it’s because of me.”

I stare at Ivan, still not completely comprehending what he’s trying to say. “What does he want with me? I don’t know anything that could help him with…anything. I barely even know anything aboutyou.” I fling that last word at Ivan, and he flinches again.

“This isn’t a joke, Charlotte,” he warns me, his hands still gripping my wrists. They feel delicate in his broad, rough palms, his fingers wrapped around them. “My father isn’t someone to trifle with. Hesellswomen, Charlotte. Do you understand me?”

I freeze, blinking at him. “He?—”

“He trafficks women. Do you get it now? Why I don’t want him to get his hands on you? What he could do to you?”

I can feel my blood running cold, my mind trying to catch up to what Ivan is saying. Sex trafficking is one of those things that I know, theoretically, happens. But it happens tootherwomen, women who go on vacation alone to places they shouldn’t, women who trust the wrong men?—

Oh god. I did that. I trusted the wrong man.I think of the site I was on, on the corners of the internet where a man can get away with things like that, a place Iknewbetter than to go, and my stomach turns over.

“Is that what that man was doing in my apartment? He works for your father? He was going to take me to—” I can’t even finish the sentence; the idea is so horrifying.

Ivan blanches. “I don’t know about that. But I’ve been trying to stop him. I’ve—” He sucks in a breath. “I’ve been working with the feds. Trying to get information, enough that they can put a stop to what he’s doing. It’s incredibly dangerous, working with the law against a man like my father. And I think he and my oldest brother have started to catch on to what I’m doing. So, they want you, so that they can use you against me. To hurt me.”

I shake my head, yanking back against Ivan’s hold on my wrists, but he doesn’t let go. His grip feels like iron bands. “I don’t get it,” I seethe, glaring up at him. “How couldIpossibly be used to hurtyou?”

Ivan goes still, his hands still holding me tight. With one quick jerk, he pulls me up against him, his hands holding mine against his chest, and when he looks down at me, there’s an expression on his face that makes me go still, too. It makes the entire room go quiet for a moment.

An expression that I can’t quite put a name to—or maybe I just don’t want to, because right now, I couldn’t possibly accept what that means.

“You should know by now,” Ivan murmurs, his voice soft suddenly, like a caress. “After that first night we spent together, you should know.”

His hands on me, his touch, the way he’s looking at me—it’s enough to bring it back, even in this moment. Enough to bring back the way he looked at and touched me that night in mybedroom, the hungry look in his eyes, the way it felt like he was devouring me.

Whatever else is happening here, that was real. That was something that couldn’t be faked.

And I know, when he lets go of one of my wrists and buries his hand in my hair, dragging my mouth to his for a vicious, almost painful kiss, that’s real, too.

3

IVAN

Iknow better than to kiss her. I know better than to give in to the desire raging through me right now, the feeling that Ineedto have her, no matter the consequences.

That feeling has gotten us here. To this moment, right now, with my cheek still stinging from her slap and her eyes sparking angrily at me in the moment before my lips slam against hers. But I can’t stop.

I can’t fucking stop.

I’ve lied to her again. I’ve only told her half the truth. I couldn’t keep what my family is from her, not and have any logical reason why she’s here with me, in a shitty Illinois motel instead of at her apartment or mine in Chicago. I couldn’t keep what I was from her, either.

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