Page 35 of Knocked Up By the Russian

"Has he always touched me like that?" she whispered, eyebrows drawn into a frown. He always acted so casual about it, but now that she was thinking back on every time they were in a room together... Yes, he had.

Maybe it had been the eggnog they'd both drunk or the kiss he'd attempted underneath the mistletoe—but looking at the photo now, it felt like it had just happened. Her cheeks flushed as she tried to ignore his touch. A couple more incidents came to mind: his hand on the small of her back whenever they walked somewhere together, the seats he chose that were right next to each other—even when there was a whole table to choose from—him tucking strand after strand of hair behind her ear whenever they were looking at the club's designs.

How could I be so oblivious?But even thinking that, she knew the answer. Ivan's reputation as a playboy had always been at the front of her mind, making it easy to ignore how comfortable he acted around her.But he doesn't act like thatwith everyone,she thought, feeling a bit like an idiot that she hadn't noticed it before.

Glancing back in the drawer, Amy found another photo. It had been taken on her birthday when Zia bought her a piece of tiramisu from Giovanni's. So many people had been taking photos that day, so why didn't she remember Ivan taking this one? Another photo showed her and Zia with their heads together, beaming wide, naughty grins. If she remembered correctly, they'd helped Adrian distract Ivan that day so that his brothers could swap his bike with a similar model—only custom-ordered in bright pink instead of the usual black. Where had he got these from? Zia? No... she would've mentioned something, wouldn't she?

Closing Ivan's bedroom drawer, Amy walked down to the office. She wondered what she'd find in the locked drawer.

A few minutes later, her questions were answered as she unlocked the drawer and slid it open.

Laughter burst from her lips when she saw the white mug with black lettering spelling out the words, "I'm not a control freak, but you're doing that wrong."

She'd swapped his normal coffee mug with that one after he'd changed her computer screen to say the words, "Ice Queen," in sparkling, swirling letters.

Placing the mug on the desk, she chuckled lightly before finding a notebook and pen. Flicking it open, the smile died on her lips as she read the first page. Confusion lined her brow, and she skipped to the next.

It was notes. Hundreds, if not thousands, of notes that he must've made while they were working together. Notes about her, his family... about random things she'd mentioned they should add to Eclipse—and at the end of the book was a list ofbirthdays. Amy blinked in surprise at finding her family's listed along with his. Then she squinted when she saw Kostya shared a birthday with her mom.Weird.

"I didn't think he was paying attention," she muttered, feeling guilty as she closed it. What had he said the night before when she asked him how he knew those things about her?

"We share an office."That's what he said.

But she'd known it was more than that.

Underneath the notebook were Eclipse's original folded-up blueprints along with both their notes. She couldn't help but run her fingers over it all, remembering the light sparkling in his eyes as he listened to her. The way he'd let her come up with everything, and how he'd encouraged her to think big. Her heart pitter-pattered as she remembered it all.

When her stomach grumbled, Amy decided to leave her snooping for a little while and retreated to the kitchen in search of something to eat. Spotting the polystyrene containers from last night's date, she pulled all three out and laid them on the kitchen counter.

After grabbing a fork from a nearby drawer, Amy opened the first container, found two perfect tiramisu slices—and swallowed down the tears.

Chapter 16 - Ivan

After spending a full day trying to find answers to the threats Amy kept receiving, Ivan was strung tighter than a hangman's noose.

He nodded a greeting to Ilya as he passed Adrian's open door. She and two others had their laptops open on his brother's table, and they were no doubt monitoring the cameras. Guns lay on the table, all three of them wearing Kevlar. It was their normal measures, but Ivan didn't feel like it was enough after receiving three more threats in the mail.

With his hands full, Ivan took a bit of time to get his biometrics and passcode into the door lock. When it opened, he kicked it shut behind himself, thinking Amy was in the bedroom or the office. He wasn't expecting her to be on the couch, her arms wrapped around her knees.

"What's that?" she asked softly, drawing his attention.

Ivan looked up from the things he'd set on the counter, his body tensing further when he saw the redness around her eyes.

"You've been crying." His voice came out strangled, all signs pointing to her being locked up in the apartment all day.Please don't cry because of me, he wanted to beg.

She didn't even blink at his words, and he realized belatedly that she'd already asked him something first. Heat gathered under his collar, and Ivan picked up the flowers and the dark blue ceramic dish before walking toward her. It didn't feel like enough now that he was standing in front of her.

"It's..." he trailed off, uncertain how to admit what he'd done. His fingers clenched on the rose stems and he huffed alaugh. This was more difficult than he'd thought it would be. "I stopped by your mom to see how the move was going. We chatted for a bit..."

He had to make up a lie about why Amy couldn't make it. He swallowed harshly at Amy's heartbroken stare. Guilt curled to life within him, flicking its tendrils around his heart. God, he should've done better. She could've gone with him to her mom's. To Zia's.

"I asked her what your favorite dinner was, and she said she'd make it if I could get a few of the ingredients." Zia had been there, and she'd overheard. The moment he'd got back from the store with the ingredients Amy's mother wanted for the chicken dish, she'd pulled him aside and interrogated him. The flowers were her idea. His cheeks burned and he felt a bit like an idiot as he handed her the bouquet of lilac roses. They weren't her favorite—but he hadn't been able to find purple dahlias anywhere.

"You brought me flowers and food," she muttered, her voice thick with an emotion he couldn't name. His heart thudded as awkwardness filled his limbs. It didn't feel like enough now that he was looking at it. It was the first time he'd done this for another woman, and it was very possible he was fucking it up.

Voice soft, he murmured, "I'm apologizing, Mishka."

When Amy promptly burst into tears, he was convinced that was true.

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