Page 17 of Till Death Saves Me

"This is insane," I mutter, pressing the heels of my hands against my eyes. "You barely know him. He doesn't even like you."

But the traitorous voice in my head whispers back, "But what if he could?"

9

IVAN

It's late as I stride into the kitchen, my body tense from the day's events. The metallic scent of blood clings to my skin, and I don't usually mind but the way the blood is trying on my skin and flaking off is irritating me.

I like control. And that bastard got his damn blood all over me. I need to wash it off. Now.

I'm at the sink, scrubbing my hands raw when I sense someone else in the room. My muscles coil, ready to strike. Immediately, I expect it to be a retaliation for what I just finished up, but then I notice the slim figure and soft footsteps I know well.

It's just Anya.

I turn, eyeing her warily. "What are you doing here?"

Anya leans against the doorframe, arms crossed. "Spending time with your wife. Something you're not doing."

I huff, turning back to the sink. "Back off, Anya. It's an arranged marriage."

"Ginny's lonely, Ivan."

My jaw clenches. I grip the edge of the counter, knuckles white. "Virginia is well taken care of."

Anya rolls her eyes. "You know, if you were actually around, maybe this marriage wouldn’t have to be just an obligation."

Heat rises in my chest. Who the hell does she think she is? "Get out."

"Come on, Ivan." She steps closer. "Even Lev has found happiness with his wife, and we both know no one ever expected that to happen."

I scoff, but she's right. Still, I don't like people fucking around in my personal life. And Anya knows this. I have boundaries — ones that no one seems to fucking respect.

"I. Said. Get. Out," I snarl at her.

"You'll get your head out of your ass at some point." Anya shrugs, not phased in the slightest. Little sisters were created to be the bane of every man's existence I swear. "I just wanted to help."

I whirl around, fists clenched at my sides. "I don't need your help. This is my life, my marriage. Stay out of it."

Anya holds up her hands, backing away. "Fine. But she doesn't deserve this and you know it. I just…" She sighs. "Just be better than this, okay?"

As she leaves, I slam my palm against the counter. The sting barely registers through my anger. Who does Anya think she is, meddling in my affairs? This marriage is business, nothing more. I don't need her or anyone else telling me how to handle it.

I glance at the doorway where Anya stood moments ago. Her words echo in my mind, despite my efforts to push them away. Lonely. Obligation. I shake my head, trying to clear the thoughts. It doesn't matter. This is how it has to be.

I storm into my study, already on edge from the conversation with Anya. The second I step inside, I freeze. What the fuck?

My eyes scan the room, taking in the changes. The curtains are different. Lighter. There are fucking throw pillows on my leather couch. And is that... a vase of flowers on my desk?

Rage bubbles up inside me, threatening to boil over. This is my space. My fucking sanctuary. And she just waltzed in here and changed it without a second thought?

I hear footsteps behind me and whirl around. Virginia stands in the doorway, her eyes wide. "I thought I heard something-"

"What the fuck is this?" I snarl, gesturing to the room.

She flinches at my tone, but quickly recovers. "I... I thought it could use some brightening up."

I take a step towards her, my voice low and dangerous. "Why the fuck did you touch my stuff?"

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