Page 10 of Knocked Up By the Russian

Good-naturedly, he conceded. And he enjoyed pushing her buttons—but that was because she was practically family. Ever since Zia had married Lev, Amy had attended every single event like the two of them were stuck at the hips.

Ivan shook himself out of his thoughts and finished packing up her things. He loaded as much as he could into that cardboard box and then grabbed it, stalking silently toward the door. His hands were full, and it was clear just by looking at Amy's tensed shoulders that she wasn't going to help him.

Rolling his eyes, he juggled everything in his hands and opened the door, waiting for her to follow.

A minute passed, and she still didn't move. Ivan turned toward her purposefully, his eyes narrowed. But the hatred flaring from her gorgeous green eyes wrapped around his heart like a tangible vise. It hurt—more than he'd ever admit.

He wasn't going to take back his words. They were going to get married. It was the only way he'd be able to keep her safe.

"Now, Amy." He intended for the words to come out softly, but an underlying edge betrayed him. Leftover anger from her betrayal simmered inside him, and he cursed himself silently when she flinched. Her shoulders straightened and her chin lifted, and he buried the little bit of pride he felt at seeing her stand up for herself.

"Good girl," he whispered the taunt as she stalked out of the room. He shouldn't have given in to his baser urges, but fuck it—he needed more from her than her cold shoulder.

Her hissed "Fuck you" was a relief as they navigated through the pulsing club. He hated it when she went quiet. Placing a palm on her back, Ivan glared at any of the staff who turned to watch them. Those who saw, fumbled, pretending to work. He'd have to get Adrian to ensure they actually did; the place had been a mess on his way out this morning. It sure as hell wasn't up to the Nikolai standard.

His phone rang as they reached the doors, and Ivan shifted the box in his hands to pull it from his pocket. He glancedat the screen, irritated by the interruption. It disappeared the instant he saw Adrian's name. Relieved, he exhaled. He'd tried to call his brothers earlier, but none of the bastards had picked up.

Watching Amy stalk toward his car, he answered the phone, laying it precariously inside the overloaded box to avoid dropping everything.

"Gimme a minute. My hands are full," he muttered gruffly before his brother could say anything. Then he walked to his G-Wagon, tugged open the back door, and slid everything onto the backseat. They wouldn't be returning to the office anytime soon—at least, not if he could help it.

Before he shut the door, Ivan grabbed his phone and pulled it to his ear. "Speak."

"Gee, thanks," his brother muttered sarcastically as something rustled in the background. Clothes, maybe.

"Judging by the four missed calls, something happened while I was sleeping." Adrian's voice sounded tired when he came back on the line.

He probably hadn't had much rest after going through the things they'd obtained from Boris's dead body. There'd been a burner phone no one had found until afterward—a sloppy mistake. Adrian had planned to hack into it to see the calls list. They were hoping there would be more clues there, though Ivan was doubtful. Anyone clever enough to use a burner would no doubt be phoning someone who had the same thing.

Ivan got into the driver's seat, slamming the door harder than was necessary. "Amy received a package. There was a bullet inside with her name on it, fucking literally. I'm heading home, and you can come see it for yourself."

Before he started the car, he checked up on her. Amy had her seatbelt on, and her tearful gaze was fixed ahead. Satisfied, Ivan turned the key and the car grumbled to life. His Bluetooth connected automatically, and Adrian's voice filtered through the speakers, far more alert than before. "Have you phoned Mikhail?" he questioned.

"I tried. He wasn't answering," Ivan answered as he flicked his phone off and put it in his pocket. More rustling came through the speakers, and Ivan heard his brother mumbling in the background. He backed out of the club's parking in the meanwhile, steering his vehicle onto the main road.

"I'll let him know. I'm heading to his office anyway. We'll meet you back at your place."

"Thanks," Ivan said before ending the call. Absent of his brother's noise, the car went silent. As used to noise as he was, Ivan didn't know what to feel when things were quiet like this—but he wasn't. It pricked at all his nerve endings, his body readying itself for a fight that wasn't coming. His ears strained for the faintest sounds and his lips flattened as he pushed a button to put the radio on.

He should've been used to Amy going quiet on him, but each time she did, it left him reeling just like this. Usually, it was easy. He could break her silence with a little nudging or a new project. She loved those, especially when it came to the club.

At only a year old, Eclipse was already far better than Lev's previous project, Club Noelle. It had a moodier atmosphere—sleek and sexy. Ivan could take some credit, but he knew he wouldn't have pulled it off without Amy. She'd taken Cloud 9's angelic vibe and turned it darker. The glass doors and windows were tinted black, even the ones in their office, which were also mirrored to allow them to oversee the rest of the club.

Neon lights pulsed gently in shades of violet and midnight, casting flickering shadows across the silver and black decor. The dance floor, the heart of Eclipse, was surrounded by private VIP lounges shrouded in dark velvet curtains. A state-of-the-art sound system filled the room, and if their clients were paying attention, they'd notice the ceiling had fairy lights flickering in a design that mimicked the solar system.

The theme was integrated across the entire club, even the bar, crafted from shiny black marble with intricate silver accents, served a curated selection of innovative cocktails named after celestial phenomena. Ivan and Amy had spent months creating their signature drinks menu. The cocktails list had thirty-six drinks on it, with names like "Stardust Martini" and "Solar Flare Mojito." They'd invested so much work into it all—she'dput so much work into it all. From picking the framed paintings decorating the walls, showing black-winged angels seductively posed in silk, to renovating the rooftop into an open-air terrace.

Why the hell does she want to leave?

His mind raced to find answers that he refused to consider. If he did, it would mean admitting things he didn't want to acknowledge. That burning piece of paper rested in his pocket, there wasn't a company name on it. The only distinctive factor was a logo that looked like a ribbon twisting to form a woman's curves. Ivan hadn't seen it before, the curiosity was fucking killing him. He knew a couple of competitors would pay her a hefty sum for her experience, and his jaw clenched just thinking about it.

As they drove on, Ivan felt Amy simmering with frustration beside him. In his periphery, he watched her legs cross and uncross. He felt his lips curl down when she sniffledquietly, the urge to apologize wasn't something he was used to—but he felt it then. Burning in his gut like a piece of coal.

What will it help?His conscious asked him bitterly. It would only give her the idea that she could escape this arrangement. He'd rather get shot in the heart than let that happen.

Amy spoke then, while he was stuck in his mind, and her voice was nothing more than a snarl. "You said this would be temporary."

"It was," he muttered, gripping the steering wheel until his hands ached. "Now it isn't."

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