Page 9 of Knocked Up By the Russian

"For fuck sakes, Amy. They think we're getting married! The Bratva don't take things like this lightly. Don't you understand that?" His voice rose as he picked up the silver bullet and curled his fingers around it.

"Don't talk to me like that, Ivan," she growled out, finally rising from her seat. "I have every right to look for other work, just like any other employee."

"You're not any other employee, damn it. You're my fiancée." Opening his palm again, he looked at the bullet. His ocean-blue eyes turned tempestuous.

"We made that up!" she hissed desperately.

He didn't look up from the bullet. "They don't know that... We're going to have to go through with the wedding. I'll phone Mikhail now to let him know."

"What? No. That's crazy! I'm not going to marry you, Ivan." Shaking her head, Amy darted around her desk to grab the bullet and paper from him, but Ivan refused to let them goand she was forced to pull back. Her voice turned shrill. "Ivan, please.The Bratva don't fucking divorce."

"Maybe you should've thought about that before keeping secrets," he snapped as he strode to his desk for his cell phone.

Amy tried to stop him. Her fingers latched onto his button-down, and she stood on her toes, hating that she needed the extra height even with heels on. "Don't do this, Ivan. Please. There has to be another way."

"There isn't." He shrugged off her grip, not meeting her eyes as he left the room.

Sinking back onto her heels, Amy's throat felt tight.I can't marry him,she thought, remembering the previous night.

"Don't do this," she whispered hoarsely when he finally returned to the office.

He opened his office drawer, speaking through gritted teeth. "Stop being selfish. Do you know how much danger you've just put yourself in? Your family? This is just the first warning."

"What you're doing is selfish," she whispered.You're taking away my freedom.

"I'm protecting you," he growled out, eyes flashing.

She laughed, wiping away the tears that just wouldn't stop pouring. "Protecting me?"That over-controlling asshole."What sort of protection do I get by marrying into the Bratva? By beingyours?You're tying me to the Bratva! That's even more of a risk."

"More of a risk thanthis," he held up the bullet pointedly. "Being shot into your fucking skull?"

Unable to argue, Amy stayed silent, and tears dripped onto her blouse.

"Pack up your things. We're going home."

"No," her lip trembled. She didn't want to go anywhere with Ivan Nikolai.

"Don't fight me on this, Amy," he warned softly as he slammed his laptop shut, grabbing one of the two laptop bags hanging off the coat hanger. "We're getting married, and youaregoing to move in with me."

Chapter 4 - Ivan

After folding the job offer and placing it in his pocket with the bullet, Ivan finished packing his things and turned to Amy's side of the office. She stood at the edge of her desk, her lower lip trembling after her warbled declaration. He couldn't look her in the eye—not because she'd stabbed him in the heart when she told him she wouldn't marry him, but because of the letter in his pocket, the one he'd prefer to set alight rather than keep.

She wanted to leave. That realization felt like a switchblade stabbing through his vital organs. His heart throbbed, and his lungs screamed at him to stop holding his breath. If she wanted to go, there wasn't much he could do about it. She was just an employee, right?Zia'sfriend. So why did that letter feel like a rejection?

Ivan rubbed his chest while Amy glared at the floor. Marrying her... he wasn't sure what made him think of that. The thought was foolish—marry-the-girl-who-hated-you foolish. And if he wasn't certain about that last bit, well there was no way she didn't hate his guts now. But at least she'd be safe. The idea already had its merits.

Standing at the edge of her desk, her eyes were steely and stubborn. He walked around her, ignoring the urge to grab her, kiss her—anything to tempt her to stay—but that would only make her hate him more.

He closed her laptop in a smooth motion, and slipped it into a bag similar to his before turning toward the papers on her desk. Invoices... statements... he wasn't sure what she might need. After flicking through them, he decided to take all of it. Ivan pulled out an empty cardboard stationery box from the shelf behind her desk and dumped it all in.

Once he started searching through her drawers, he felt her eyes on him again. He didn’t need to look up to know she was glaring; the heat of her gaze was searing. He hated this. He. Fucking. Hated. It. He hated that she was looking for another club, hated that he'd known something was wrong but couldn't figure it out. He hated the jolt he felt when he saw the letter. Amy Spencer didn't belong to him. He was just doing what he could to protect his sister-in-law's best friend.

Yeah, right.He scoffed aloud. Zia was going to be really fucking grateful to find out he'd married her best friend. Lev was going to fucking kill him. God only knew what the rest would do—but he'd still be the idiot tied to the woman he couldn't stop thinking of. The same one who thought he wasn't anything more than a spoiled playboy.

Flashes of last Christmas flickered through his mind, the memory a bitter one. The taste of eggnog, and her snarled words. The way she'd left him standing like an idiot under the mistletoe. Everyone had seen it—though, he didn't think Amy realized it then. Or now. His brothers' teasing had started and finished before they got back to work.

She'd told him to fuck off then, too, but he'd figured he was imagining her hatred. Had blamed it on being drunk.Everyoneloved him. He was the easygoing brother, the one they called when they wanted a good time. Why couldn't she be the same? They worked well together, didn’t they? Sure, they argued a couple of times.

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