Page 30 of Knocked Up By the Russian

"Yes," Amy admitted, face flushed. Ivan had dropped her off before leaving for the club, and Zia had known immediately that something had happened between them. Then again, the kiss he pressed to her lips was pretty damn obvious.

"Mama," Alex banged his hands irritably, and Zia stopped her interrogation to finish stirring his bowl of porridge. He'd already had to wait for them to finish going through the massive six-bedroom house her mom was going to move into later that week.

"Wow, I don't know what to say," Zia muttered, an eyebrow raised. "You and Ivan? I mean... I knew something was up when he said he was going to marry you, but I always assumed the two of you couldn't stand each other."

Alex made a few more irritable noises as she shook her head, and Amy pressed her fingers to her temple. "What makes you say that?"

"Well, the Christmas party for one," Zia deadpanned, tucking a brown curl behind her ear as she went to give Alex his breakfast.

"You saw that?" Amy whispered, suddenly horrified. Of course, all the Nikolais had been in attendance last year, but she'd really thought she'd been quiet when she told Ivan off.

"Heard it," Zia corrected her. "You weren't quiet, you know."

Seriously?Amy squeezed her eyes shut as she thought back on it. "Please don't tell me that's what Kostya and Adrian were laughing about."

"Mira, too." Zia grinned, and Amy let out a whimper, trying to remember exactly what she'd said. "It was pretty impressive, you know... What was it you called him?" Zia asked before cackling. "A spoiled playboy who?" she trailed off, an eyebrow raised.

The words came to her unbidden, deepening her embarrassment, and Amy muttered sullenly. "Wouldn't know what to do with a woman if he didn't have the money to afford them."

Zia laughed so hard she snorted. "Epic. I'm pretty sure he got teased about that for a month afterward. Adrian even hired him an escort the next time he went out with them."

Amy let out a groan, laying her head on the cold marble of the kitchen counter. "Shit."

"Well, were you right?" Zia asked as she placed a jug of orange juice in front of them. Amy poured herself a glass, her nose wrinkling.

"Not in the fucking slightest."

That only set her best friend off again, and this time Zia started wheezing. "So what now?" Zia asked when she finally settled down.

"I don't know," Amy admitted. "I really don't know. We had a deal to end this in six months, but..." she trailed off, letting out a sigh.

"It's all complicated," Zia said softly.

Exactly.Amy nodded. They both turned silent, watching Alex as he finished his porridge. He'd messed a little on his face and the tray attached to his chair, and Zia wiped it away when he finished, then picked him up and turned to her with a shrug.

"Well, you've got all day to stew on it. Want to watch the new season of Grey's Anatomy while you do?"

"Sure," Amy muttered, following her to the living room.

***

That afternoon, Ivan picked her up from Zia's, a smirk on his lips that he pressed against her mouth in a kiss.

"Hi," he whispered after stealing her breath again—and if that was going to become normal, she was really screwed.

"Hey," she murmured, looking up at him. His hair was still styled from this morning, and she felt a little disappointed to see he hadn't been running his fingers through it. Clearly, his mind wasn't as troubled as her own.

"Did you have fun?" he asked, steering the car away from Zia's house. Amy blinked at the question, then shrugged.

"We didn't do much. Watched TV, and played with Alex mainly. He's starting to walk." It surprised her that she volunteered this information, and Amy quieted afterward. A frown settled on her face as she looked outside her window.

"I booked us a table at Giovanni's," Ivan said, breaking the silence a moment later. Amy flicked her gaze toward him, wondering if he knew it was her favorite restaurant. He grinned. "You like the tiramisu there, right?"

"Yes. Did Zia tell you?" she asked, turning to face him properly. Giovanni's was a little Italian bistro she'd been going to since she'd found it at eighteen. It was one of the only places within her budget back then that still served pretty good food—and she didn't just like their dessert menu. She adored it. Not many people knew that though.

"We've been working together for over a year now, Mishka. I'm bound to notice a few things," he answered.

"Really?" she cocked her head to the side, feeling a strange bubble of amusement at the obvious pride he took in that. "What else do you know then?"

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