Page 37 of Knocked Up By the Russian

More tears fell, dropping onto his fingertips, and he wiped them away as his mouth thinned.

"Stop talking before you start another fight," she demanded, pulling away with an indignant sniff. He chuckled under his breath. It was such anAmything to say that he couldn't help it.

"What would you have me do then, Mishka?" If she just said the word, it was hers.

She didn't respond, her expression prejudiced, and he let out another laugh. He fucking loved it when she was feisty with him. It sent heat running through his veins, burning the ice that had been there moments ago. She'd had to fight for everything in her life, this way he could convince himself she was fighting for him this time.

"As much as I love you when you're fighting with me," he admitted with another laugh. "I'm starving, Mishka, and your mother's cooking smelled so fucking good in the car."

She blinked up at him, and he took the opportunity to drop a kiss on her forehead.

"Come," he said as he moved toward the table, picking up the blue dish her mother had given him. Amy didn't move and he raised an amused eyebrow. "Not hungry?"

"I am," she muttered after a few minutes. Something he'd done or said appeared to have shocked her and she followed him without a fuss.

"You didn't take your bike?" she asked, one step behind him as he walked to the kitchen. He liked that—her following him. It made his chest puff with arrogance. Amy could never be persuaded to do anything, she had to decide for herself. So ifshe was following him then that meant he was doing something right.

"I did," he answered while he pulled out two plates. The food had cooled, but it still smelled amazing. He put her plate into the microwave first, the buttons beeping softly as he started it. "I borrowed Adrian's car again. He'll drive the bike back later."

She grew quiet as the food got heated up in the microwave, and Ivan turned to look at her as she climbed onto a barstool. She was wearing one of his shirts. He wasn't sure how he hadn't noticed that when he came in, but it made his heart beat faster in his chest.

The microwave beeped, and he fetched her food, grabbing a fork from the basin before he handed it to her.

"Thank you," she muttered softly as she took both from him. He smiled, about to turn away when she added, "And for the flowers. They're beautiful."

"I'm sorry I couldn't get your favorite," he replied as he put his plate in the microwave. He wasn't as disappointed now that she'd admitted she liked them.

"How do you know my favorite?" she mumbled, and he turned to see her playing with her food. Pressure grew in his chest—then she took a bite, and it eased. Relieved, he let out the breath he'd been holding and rubbed his chest.

"You told me, remember?" he pressed, shrugging his shoulders. "On your birthday last year. I made you angry."

No... She'd been more than angry after dealing with his teasing all day. Looking back on it, even he could admit that he’d been an ass—but she’d gone on a date before, and it was as if he had to remind her about him when she came back to work thenext day. Of course, that all backfired when he went to ask her a favor that afternoon.

"Then I asked you to do something or get something... I can't really remember, but you stormed out of the office." He smiled fondly at the memory. He'd never seen anyone stomp away in high heels and part of him had been worried she'd slip going down the stairs. So he'd followed, ignoring the curious eyes of the staff as he heard her cursing him the entire way.

Shaking out of his thoughts, he continued, "I heard you talking to yourself... I can't remember all the words, but I think you said something along the lines of if I was any other man, then I would’ve had to apologize with, 'Dahlias, Swiss chocolate, and a goddamn bottle of champagne' before you'd do anything for them."

Chapter 17 - Amy

Amy smiled fondly at the memory. Ivan wasn't wrong; she'd been beyond pissed after dealing with his bullshit the whole day—but there'd been more going on than just his teasing when she lost her temper. Her smile fell.

"My father messaged me for my birthday," she confessed as Ivan grabbed his food from the microwave. "That's the real reason I was so angry. Not your teasing."

His brow furrowed. "Really?"

She nodded. She'd regretted what she'd said the second she returned to their office that afternoon to find evidence that he'd overheard her. He'd given her a gift, that panty-melting grin on his face as she handed him the drink he'd asked her for. Big surprise he didn't remember that. Then he'd thanked her for helping and left for a meeting while she suffered with the embarrassment of knowing he'd heard what she'd said. He hadn't apologized, but neither had she, and things had gone back to normal after that.

She hadn’t thought he’d heard her, and when he’d winked at her and thanked her for helping, then she’d assumed it was done and forgiven. She never would’ve thought that he would remember her favorite flowers, but now that she did, she realized that he’d given the same gifts for her birthday three months ago. Odd how she hadn’t questioned it then, either.

"You don't have a good relationship with your father," Ivan noted as he pulled out a fork and started to eat. Amy did the same, savoring her mother's chicken and broccoli bake. It was probably the healthiest thing she'd ever enjoyed eating, but it was too good not to have. Her mother used cheese like it wasgoing out of fashion, and the creamy sauce she made with it was enough to make Amy drool. She was glad to see Ivan enjoyed it.

She swirled her fork on her plate as she thought about his question. "No, we don't have a good relationship."

"You don't talk about him much," he said, shrugging his shoulders. She wasn't surprised that he'd picked up on it. He seemed to pick up on everything.

"My dad left when we were sixteen," she said, taking a deep breath as she rambled through the story. "Well... it was actually a few months before my sixteenth. Not that it matters. We didn't do anything."

It was stupid to feel sad about that, but back then she had been, and the memory was too sharp not to feel deep in her chest. Even now.

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