Page 33 of Knocked Up By the Russian

"Come in," he called, straightening his tie.

"Morning, sir." Lacey smiled, a frown between her eyebrows as she lifted a familiar package. Ivan stiffened at the sight of it. "Delivery just dropped this off. Is Mrs. Nikolai coming in today?"

"No, Amy's working on something with her mother at the moment," Ivan lied, shooting her a fake grin to ease any nerves. Without Amy there, he was taking on more responsibility with the staff—but a lot of them preferred his wife to him, and he found that fucking ironic.

"Okay. I'll just leave it on her desk then," Lacey murmured, but Ivan shook his head and gestured for her to bring it to him.

"I'll take it, thanks."

"No worries. Here we go, sir." She strode toward him and placed it on the table as his cell phone started to ring. Ivan grabbed it absent-mindedly as Lacey ducked out, his full focus on the package as he answered it.

"Hello," he grunted, holding the cell phone between his ear and his shoulder as he slid open his switchblade and cut through the clear tape.

"Am I catching you at a bad time?" Mikhail asked, and Ivan shook his head before realizing his brother wouldn't see that.

"No, why?" His fingers pulled the flaps of the package open, and the bullet rolled onto his desk. Anger simmered in his veins, and Ivan slammed his hand on the table, forgetting his brother could hear it on the other end of the line.

"Ivan?"

"Fuck, sorry. I just received another one of those fucking packages." He pinched the bridge of his nose with a sigh as he leaned back into his seat. "What can I help with?"

"That's actually why I'm calling. We're at Cloud 9. Someone must've thought you'd be here because I just opened another one of those packages."

"You've got to be fucking kidding me," Ivan snarled. "Why the fuck would they send it there? Amy hasn't worked there for over a year."

No,but he'd been there just the other night. His gut sank. Someone was monitoring him. Ice formed in his gut. He had to phone Adrian. Mentioning that he'd meet Mikhail in twenty minutes, Ivan got off the call and dialed his brother's number.

"She's fine," his brother commented dryly.

"How did you know I was about to call?" he answered gruffly, packing the bullet and paper back into the package he'd received it in.

"Though Ilya phoned you. Why?"

The ice grew, freezing his fingers as they reached for his Ducati's keys. "Why the fuck would Ilya phone?"

The phone went silent before Adrian's voice came back online. "She picked up a package from the front desk."

Fury blinded him and Ivan heard his phone crack. "Mikhail received one too. At Cloud 9."

A low whistle met his ears. "I'll phone Kostya, he's fishing for more information on the bullets at the moment. Where are you?"

"I'm at Eclipse, but I told Mikhail I'd meet him in a couple of minutes."

"I'll be there in twenty minutes," Adrian said before ending the call.

Ivan stood there for a minute, his finger on Amy's number. He pulled it away. She wouldn't answer. The thought left him depressed, but with three more packages in their hands,he had enough to distract himself with. He blew out a breath, grabbing the rest of his things before he headed out to his bike.

Whoever the fuck was behind these threats was going to end up on the wrong end of his gun when he found them. He refused to lock Amy up forever—at this rate, she had the perfect excuse to want to leave him. Bitterness filled him at the thought that Amy would get back to her life, only to leave his own in the process. He refused to see that come to pass.

After putting the package into his backpack, Ivan swung his leg over the Ducati, pulling his helmet on a second later. God, what he'd give to have his wife on it with him.

The brisk Chicago air batted against his skin as he sped through the streets a moment later.

Chapter 15 - Amy

The door clicked quietly behind Ivan, and Amy stared daggers at it, feeling a confusing mixture of emotions. As cavernous as his apartment was, she'd already spent more than a week locked inside these walls. She didn't have the patience or willpower to last another six months like this.

As she turned away from the door, Amy frowned at this morning's interaction with Ivan. Her mother had always warned her to stop freezing people out when she got angry, but it was easier this way. Amy exhaled a heavy breath, wrinkling her nose at the yogurt mixture he'd made her for breakfast.Control freak.She wrinkled her nose again, taking a bite and grimacing. The yogurt wasn't plain by any means; it looked like it had blueberries in it, and she recognized the chia seeds as well—but it wasn't to her taste. Still, she couldn't just leave it. Heaven only knew why, though. Ivan had enough money to pay for a hundred wasted meals. So why was eating something she didn't like?

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