Page 31 of Knocked Up By the Russian

"Your favorite flower is a dahlia, and your sister used to stay with you on the weekends before you moved in with me. We don't have the space now, but I can change that if you ever want me to," he added as she blinked, then before she could say anything, he continued. Listing the things he knew like he was ticking them off a checklist in his head.

"Your little brother has allergies that give him asthma, so you keep an asthma pump with you in your car and your handbag for the days he comes to visit. I made sure you have one in the new car, too. You can double-check when you start to drive it. You bought the twins their first laptops last year for their birthday, and you always phone your mom on a Monday to find out what her week is like. On the busy weeks, you always change your schedule to make sure someone's there to pick up your siblings if they need you too."

"How do you know that?" Amy muttered afterward, wondering if he knew anything more and wasn't telling her.

"We share an office, Mishka." He was quick to remind her, but she shook her head. She'd shared offices with people before and never picked up the little nuances of their lives like that.

Strangely nervous, she changed the subject, her voice soft. "Do you think I'll be able to go back to the office soon?"

Ivan tensed, fingers tapping on the steering wheel. "When it's safer."

She frowned at the non-answer, irritation bubbling under her skin. "What am I supposed to do in the meantime?"

He didn't meet her eyes as he answered. "Visit Zia or stay in the apartment."

You've got to be joking.She let out a bitter laugh—she should've realized this was coming.

Chapter 14 - Ivan

Amy was silent as they reached the restaurant, and he could already feel himself missing the light camaraderie they'd shared in the car. Ivan had booked a little table on the balcony at Giovanni's, and their waiter ushered them to it with a wide smile that looked a little awkward. Ivan ignored him, his palm on the small of Amy's back as he pulled her chair out. She didn't even look at him as she sat down.

He'd fucked up. Again. Why was it always when he had her best interests in mind that it became an argument? His jaw tensed as he settled down across from her, taking in the bistro around them with a glance.

He'd only visited once before, driven by curiosity when Zia brought Amy a takeout container with tiramisu in it. He'd recognized the logo on the container and asked Zia about it while Amy was out. Apparently, she'd been coming here for years. He'd ended up visiting the next day and found himself looking at the menu and wondering what else his little bear liked to choose from it. Taking Amy on a date here was something he'd been thinking about for months—but in his head, she was still talking to him, not frowning at the red and white checkered tablecloth while he ordered them wine.

Desperation urged him to do something, say something—but this time he held back and left her to her thoughts as he looked around them. His eyes cataloged the nearest exit points, ignoring the intimate ambiance of wooden tables spaced far enough apart to give them privacy. The pavement outside was busy, but no one was looking their way.

Secure in the knowledge that no one would try anything in such a public space, Ivan turned his attention back to hislittle bear. Their waiter returned and he gritted his teeth when she shot him a fake smile before ordering a plate of spaghetti bolognese. Those smiles belonged to him, not the high school kid wearing gingham aprons and skinny jeans.

The kid blanched when he turned to face Ivan, and it settled the beast inside him when Amy did too, her eyebrow raised in annoyance. He ordered the lasagne, then leaned back in his seat when Amy looked away again.

"What am I supposed to do in the apartment, Ivan?" she said then, finally breaking the uncomfortable silence. Her eyes were focused on the shelf of wine and he double-checked the labels. It was a bottle he already owned at home, but if she liked that he'd get another. Anything to make her happy. That's why keeping her at the apartment was such a difficult decision. He hated the thought of isolating her, but if he wanted to keep her safe, then that's what he was going to have to do. The apartment had some of the best security, second only to the gated estate that Lev and Mikhail owned.

Still, the tension eased from his shoulders now that she was actually speaking and he shrugged casually. "Whatever you want, Mishka."What's mine is yours—he didn't say that though. She'd go quiet really quickly after giving him a tongue lashing 'bout as worse as his mother had when he was younger.

"I want to go back to work. You want to know what I don't want? To be stuck in a cage," she countered irritably, fingers playing with the knives and forks set out on her side of the table. He stayed quiet, watching her brow furrow. "Don't keep me in a fucking cage, Ivan."

"It's my job to keep you safe. I wouldn't do it if there wasn't a threat on your life, Amy." He watched her tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, her face showing dismay at his words. Hehated that, but fuck... his ring was on her finger; evidence of the vows they'd made to each other. And maybe that didn't mean anything to her yet, but it meant something to him. He'd keep her safe, even if she hated him for it. His shoulders straightened while he waited for her argument. There was no way she didn't have one.

When she finally spoke, her voice was quiet, and his stomach twisted uncomfortably at her words. "I don't want to argue. Let's just eat dinner and go back to the apartment."

She rubbed her temples and he blinked at her.Since when?Amy didn't give anything up without a fight, that she was doing that now made him blanch. He loved it when she fought him. It meant she was comfortable enough to ask for what she wanted, and he often gave in when she made a valid enough point. The fact that she wasn't even bothering to now left him feeling on edge. It felt like she'd given up on something. But on what? Him? No... She was probably just tired. They hadn't slept much the night before.

"If that's what you want, Mishka," he answered softly, nearly wincing at the glare she threw his way.

"What I want is for you to stop fucking trying to control everything," she stated bitterly, and he didn't know how to respond, so he stayed quiet.

Uneasy silence reigned, and the feeling wrapping it's hands around his stomach left him on edge. He couldn't name it, but it felt a lot like worry. There was nothing to worry about, though... Right?

The date he'd planned ended quietly after they finished their dinner and paid. Ivan felt his lip curl down as he grabbed the takeaway container of tiramisu he'd ordered in advance. He'd thought she might like it when they got home... Hell, he'dthought she might even ask for a piece during their date but she hadn't. It felt like a bad omen.

When they reached the apartment, Amy slipped toward the rooms without a word, and he sat on the couch. He ran his hands through his hair as he tried to pick their conversation apart in his head. Rustling upstairs let him know she was getting ready for bed, and Ivan sighed before rising to put the tiramisu and their leftovers into the fridge.

While in the kitchen, he poured himself a glass of the half-empty Johnny Walker Blue sitting in his alcohol cupboard. He could see the moment she switched the light off in the bedroom, and he finished his drink only to pour another. The quiet around him was stifling, but he didn't switch the TV on. Uncertainty plagued him, same as the question of whether he should sleep on the couch or in his bed.

Finishing the bottle, he lumbered toward the staircase, his footsteps silent. He backed away, finding himself in the kitchen again. Adrian had cleaned the ice cream up before they left for the clubs, but the smell still lingered—hazelnut praline, the chocolate mix reminding him of her. He hardly ever had a sweet tooth, but he kept surrounding himself with things that reminded him of her.

An hour or two passed, and Ivan had started on a bottle of rum that left his surroundings buzzing nicely. Finally, he walked up the stairs to his room only to find himself frozen on the landing. The sight of Amy curled around his pillows was enough to leave his cock throbbing. Her skin pale against his black linen.

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