Page 4 of Knocked Up By the Russian

"Out," Amy stated airily as she started in the direction of the door.

"Amy, wait! I had to tell you something," Ivan called right as his phone started to ring. Amy smiled to herself as he muttered his Russian curses, telling herself it was only becauseshe knew it meant that whoever was on the phone was important enough to keep him distracted.

"Fuck, what was it again?" His voice trailed off behind her, but Amy didn't bother to turn around as she called over her shoulder.

"I'm sure you'll remember eventually."

If it was important then he'd no doubt find her again later, which meant she didn't have much time to finish with the stock take. If Ivan ever found out she was doing her assistant's work, shit would hit the fan—and reasonably so. Brittany, her twenty-two-year-old assistant, was supposed to do it. Except, Brittany had called in sick which meant that Amy was stuck with it. Not that she minded, Eclipse had been the love of her life for the past two years, and Amy would do anything for the club.

Well, everything except stay that is.Guilt pinched her stomach at the thought, but Amy ignored it. Employees were allowed to leave their work for better opportunities; that's what she kept telling herself. She had to. And if she felt extra guilty for not warning Zia beforehand... well, hopefully, her best friend would realize it wasn't meant to be hurtful. She just... had to do what she had to do. Just like everyone else.

"It'll be good for me," she murmured to herself when her heart squeezed. Amy hadn't been planning to work as the Bratva's favorite club manager forever. She had her own aspirations—and if Ivan had a problem with that, well... nothing. He could keep his problem to himself. He could make do with Brittany when she left. The girl had a business degree for crying out loud; that was more than evenAmyhad. That should be enough to do what the control freak needed done.

"Oh, well. It'll be his problem by then," she whispered to herself as she strolled past the kitchens and toward theirstoreroom, ignoring the pang of guilt that she hadn't even told Zia about the job offer yet.

***

A few hours later than she'd thought it would be, Amy left the stock room and looked around the closed club tiredly. The lights were off, which soothed her pressing headache but left her blinking as her eyes refocused on the quiet club around herself and the problem at hand. The office... She couldn't remember if she was supposed to lock up or if Ivan was going to. With the odd hours he kept, there was a slim possibility he was still inside.

Her brow creased, it was a little strange that he hadn't interrupted her at some point. The only one who had stopped by while she was busy counting the bottles was Aaric, one of their floor managers—and that had been way earlier. She vaguely remembered him letting her know they were planning to close, but whether that was an hour ago or two, she didn't know. Still, it had to be at least three or four in the morning and she hadn't spoken to Ivan since theirtête-à-têtein the office. Not that she was worried about him or anything.

"Ivan?" she called while unlocking her phone to check the time. Or attempted to... it must've died at some point while she was busy because the screen remained black. She normally made sure it was fully charged, as a single woman working the night shift, Amy knew better than to leave with a dead phone. Eclipse might've been considered a luxury club, but this was still downtown Chicago. Anything could happen. There wasn't anything she could do about that now, though. She sighed. At least she knew she had a charger in her car that wasn't the greatest but could give her enough bars in case of an emergency on the way home.

Looking at the slender gold watch on her wrist, she grimaced at the confirmation that it was nearly 03:45 in the morning. She had to get home soon; she rubbed her temples.No wonder I have a headache.

"Ivan?"

Hearing no answer, she decided to check the office to see if he was still in and then, if he wasn't, she'd lock it up herself and then go home.

Still...It's weird he isn't here,she thought. Ivan was many things—overbearing, overcontrolling—but he always walked her to her car and always said goodnight, even if it came with a tirade about how terrible her car was. She had tried to sneak out before he could find out, but that had never worked; he had even called her once when she took a taxi, just to make sure she got home safely. So, it struck her as odd that he hadn’t mentioned anything about leaving early.

He was busy today, though, she reminded herself as she looked around downstairs. The rest of the club seemed to be closed up tight. The only light on was the one shining from their office above, allowing her to see that the staff had made sure things were more or less put together the way it should've been. All around her, Amy saw the tables and barstools had been wiped clean and stacked in the corner neatly. She decided to double-check the kitchen too, just in case, and felt a flicker of irritation at the nearly full kitchen sink.

"Seriously?" she mumbled to herself, stalking out of the kitchen. "We're going to have to get a new floor manager. This is ridiculous. IVAN!"

Still no answer. Shaking off the ominous feeling in her stomach, Amy cursed under her breath as she stalked toward the stairs. It wasn't the first time he had left a light on.

Entering their office, she glared at the empty room. Ivan was definitely not there. Letting out a sigh, she turned to leave—only to stop when she spotted his keys on her table.What the hell?

Her mouth flattened as she walked over and picked them up. Ivan wouldn’t just leave his bike at the office, which meant he had to still be there. After placing his keys in her pocket, she locked up the office, her brow furrowed in tired confusion. The layout of the club was odd; the private rooms didn’t always indicate whether their lights were on, making it easy to miss an occupied one. Figuring Ivan was in one of them, she walked back downstairs and then took a right, intent on finding him. It wouldn't be the first time that he'd booked one of their VIP rooms to avoid the staff from bothering him. He did it often, so she didn't question it at all as she figured out which room he was in, swung open the door, and walked in. It was only after she'd realized what she'd walked into that her whole body froze in quiet panic.

Ivan was there; she hadn’t been mistaken about that—but he wasn’t alone. Both he and his brother Adrian were seated on the leather couches, guns in hand, surrounded by several tattooed and scarred men who were shouting obscenities in Russian, words she had only learned after Ivan let a few slip when he was truly angry.

Bratva, Amy realized a moment too late, panic gripping her as Adrian spotted her. His lips thinned as he quickly glanced from his brother to the men around them.

"Get out,"he mouthed, his expression stern. Just as she was about to do exactly that, one of the men pulled out a gun and shot a man she hadn’t even noticed tied to a wooden chair in the middle of the room.

Oh, shit. Her heart thudded in her chest, and Amy looked behind her, but it was too late; the whimper she'd inadvertently let out caught everyone’s attention, and she flinched as they all turned to glare at her.

Chapter 2 - Ivan

What the fuck is she doing?Ivan's jaw ticked as he looked at Amy's pale, terrified face. He'd sent her a message to let her know this area would be occupied. Hadn't he?Fuck.He couldn't remember, but he was certain he'd told her to leave early tonight. He'd even tried to say something before Mikhail had phoned him to let him know the men were coming early and they were bringing Boris with them, hogtied to a chair because the underboss had been caught skimming the cash from the vehicle sales.Shit.

He should've known something like this would happen the one time they allowed Bratva business in the clubs. He should've insisted more but the timing was shit. Not that it mattered now. The chair had fallen to the floor, and Boris's beaten body was starting to bleed out. His dead gaze was aimed at the ceiling, the bullet hole perfectly situated between his eyebrows. Maksim was a good shot, even if he was a shitty interrogator. Now they were down their best underbossandtheir best shot at figuring out which of their enemies he'd been working with. Although, if he was honest, he was only pissed about the latter.

They'd been stuck trying to get information from Boris for over two hours, and just when Boris had been about to reveal who hired him, Maksim had lost his temper and pulled out his gun.Fucking lunatic.This was what he got when he had to deal with the older Bratva members.They're all fucking crazy.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Ivan snarled at Maksim in Russian as he rose from the couch. Without Boris, they had no one to tell them who was intercepting their shipments and how the fuck they were getting their information. Mikhail was paranoid enough that it would've been impossiblefor Boris to be the only one involved. The only reasonable conclusion was that there was a spy among their ranks, but they wouldn't know that for sure now, would they? Considering their best bet at finding out was swimming in his own blood. Then as if the night wasn't already going to shit, Amy had walked in.

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