Page 22 of Till Death Saves Me

How am I supposed to make sense of this? The Ivan who brought me to brunch and actually listened when I talked about my favorite books – how does he fit with the man who exploded at me for rearranging his study? The one who laid down those cold, impersonal rules on our wedding night?

I steal one more glance, catching the exact moment a text lights up his phone screen. His entire demeanor shifts, shoulders tensing as he reads whatever message just came through. Just like that, the walls are back up.

The warmth in my chest twists into something sharper. Confusion, maybe. Or disappointment.

I'm not sure which is worse.

11

IVAN

Ihelp Virginia out of the car, her bags weighing down my arms as we make our way to the front door. The day's been... unexpected, to say the least. Seeing her eyes light up at her favorite spots in the city, hearing that musical laugh - it's stirred something in me I can't quite name. Something I'm not sure I want to acknowledge.

We step inside, and I'm about to head straight for my study when Virginia stops me. Her delicate hand touches my arm, and I freeze.

Every muscle in my body tenses, and I don't even know why. It's like she has some kind of hold over me, one I have been ignoring with all my might.

But then she leans in, her lips brushing against mine. Soft. Warm. Intoxicating. My skin ignites where she touches me, a jolt of electricity racing through my veins.

"Thank you for today," she murmurs, her breath tickling my ear. The scent of her perfume - sweet vanilla - floods my senses.

Before I can react, before I can even form a coherent thought, she takes the bags from my slack grip and disappears up the stairs to her room. I stand there, rooted to the spot, my mindreeling. The silence of the house presses in around me, broken only by the pounding of my heart.

What the hell just happened?

My hand moves of its own accord, fingers tracing where her lips touched. The ghost of her kiss lingers, sending sparks through my body.

This wasn't part of the plan. This wasn't supposed to happen. I'm not supposed to feel this way. Virginia was meant to be a business arrangement, nothing more. But now... now I'm not so sure.

I shake my head, trying to clear it. But her touch, her scent, the softness of her lips - it's all burned into my memory.

I'm not sure what is happening. I'm not some teenager who has never touched a girl. And it was just a kiss, barely one. I've seen more passionate kisses as greetings among the Bratva. But her touching me…it does something to me.

Fuck. I need a drink.

Stalking to my study, I pour myself a generous measure of whiskey, downing it in one burning gulp. The alcohol does nothing to dull the memory of her touch.

What is this woman doing to me?

The feeling doesn't leave me all night and into the next day. I go to work, welcoming the blaring noise of Manhattan as I try to drown out the thoughts that seem to plague me.

But it doesn't work.

I stare at the documents spread across my desk, but the words blur together. My mind refuses to focus on the task at hand, instead replaying yesterday's events on an endless loop.

Virginia's laugh echoes in my ears, bright and carefree. I see her eyes lit up as we walked through her favorite bookstore, her fingers trailing over worn spines. The way she bit her lip, considering which volume to add to her growing pile.

I would have bought her the whole goddamn store if she asked me to. I might do it anyway just to get another kiss.

"Fuck," I mutter, rubbing my temples. This isn't like me. I don't get distracted. I don't daydream about women, especially not my wife. I was worried she'd be a liability, but not like this.

But here I am, unable to shake the memory of her smile, the way her whole face transformed when she was truly happy. And despite my best efforts to deny it, a part of me is glad I was the one to put that smile there.

The scent of her perfume lingers in my mind, and I wonder if she would taste as sweet as she smells. What would it be like to bury my face in her neck, to breathe her in...

A sharp knock on my office door snaps me back to reality. Lev strides in, eyebrow raised as he takes in my disheveled appearance.

"You look like shit," he says bluntly, dropping into the chair across from me. "Late night?"

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