Page 44 of Knocked Up By the Russian

"I'll pour you a glass of wine," Mira muttered, striding off. She returned a moment later, a worried crease between her brows as she handed Amy the wineglass. Amy thanked her, swallowing the first gulp in seconds.

As she took a shaky breath, Paisley's hand reached toward her daughter, a tremor visible when she gripped Amy's arm. "We've kept the kids out of this as much as possible, but they're going to start having questions soon."

Amy nodded her head at her mother's words. They'd just have to answer what they could and hope for the best.

***

An hour later, Ivan joined Amy in the living room, a tense look on his face. The car game had been replaced by a Disney movie on the TV screen, and Mira and Paisley had left to go make dinner.

Seeing her husband, Amy nudged Zia on the arm. "I'll be back in a minute," she whispered when she had her attention. Zia's eyes flicked to the door as she nodded, and Amy left, her heart thudding in her ears.

"What's going on?" she asked when they were far enough away. She looked at him for clues, seeing his hair in disarray—but that was it. The tension in his body didn't follow onto his face, didn’t give her clues about what he was going to say.

"Ivan?" she demanded, folding her arms when he took too long to answer.

He exhaled, reaching for her, and Amy frowned as she stepped away. Their earlier argument had hurt more than she would've liked to admit. Ivan's controlling nature felt repressing like it always did, but it was the way he'd disregarded her that she couldn't forgive.

His brow furrowed at her actions, and a flash of something vulnerable crossed his features. It disappeared just as quickly, and he straightened, a mask falling into place. "Mishka, I know you're angry, but I need you to trust me."

She held back a scoff, finding irony in his statement when he still couldn't trust her either. "Just tell me what's going on, Ivan."

"We received another threat—" he started, and she grew irritated, interrupting him in a sharp voice.

"Mira and Zia explained about the bullets." Her heart pinched tightly that he hadn't been the one to explain. The question why one he still hadn't answered yet.

"Don't be angry with me, Mishka. I had to help my brother," he murmured, fingers reaching toward her face before she brushed them away. She was too angry to deal with the emotions his touches invoked.

"Just tell me what's going on."

Nodding, Ivan looked toward the ceiling as he brushed his fingers through his hair instead. "I'm going to go back to the apartment to fetch some clothes for us both. We're moving in here for the foreseeable future."

"And my family?" she asked quietly, her eyes flickering around herself as she did. Mikhail, admittedly, had the biggest house on the block. But that didn't mean there were enough rooms for everyone.

"They'll be here too," he said, settling some of her nerves. "We're going to have to bunk up and share rooms, but this will be safer. The security won't need to split up or anything."

"Fine," she muttered, the adrenaline fading into exhaustion. "I'll go ask Mira about the rooms. She's sorting out dinner for the kids."

She turned to walk away, but Ivan reached for her, his fingers soft on her skin. "Amy."

Tears pressed on her eyes as she shrugged him off. "I'll see you when you get back," she muttered as she strode off.

Chapter 20 - Ivan

It was inevitable that they'd be arguing again, Ivan realized as he watched Amy go. And as much as he loved her, there were times like this when it left him feeling hollow instead of alive.

Regret and guilt left him standing in the hallway, his mind in turmoil as he reflected on everything that had happened that afternoon: the phone call, the package, Amy's tears, their argument, and a sense of failure when he'd realized Paisley and her children had been dragged into this.

He'd broken his word, and the self-loathing felt like a sucker punch. There was no excuse; he knew he'd made a mistake... made many, actually. But he couldn't figure out where exactly he'd gone wrong that afternoon. Things had been fine in the mall; it was after that fucking phone call that everything started to spiral.

He'd needed to get his wife to safety, and so that's what he'd done. The Pakhan needed his negotiator, and so that's what he'd done. But his argument with Amy meant he'd been late to the meeting, and it was clear by the looks on the other men's faces that they'd taken that as a sign of disrespect. Was it stupid to think he'd be able to leave without explaining everything to Amy? Maybe. But in their line of work, there were times when he could answer questions, and there were times when he couldn't. He hated it, but Nikolai or not, he was his brother's lieutenant—and the Bratva didn't wait for anyone.

Mikhail had been furious when he arrived in the office. Some of that fury had been aimed his way, but not all. The Bratva had questions that not even their Pakhan could answer. They'd found out about the threats with the latest package,and things were going to hell in a handbasket. A threat to the Pakhan's family.

The men were angry first, appraising second. A weak Pakhan was a dead one, and there were more than enough men who wanted his place. This made them look weak. That was far more dangerous than anything that had happened so far. Whoever was behind this bullshit was going to pay when their luck ran out and the Nikolai brothers caught up with them.

Shoes scuffed purposefully on the floor behind him, pulling him from his thoughts. Ivan ran his fingers through his hair, ignoring his brother's presence as he dropped his stare to the floor. He'd had no choice. Amy knew he was Bratva first. He'd had no choice.

"Are you ready to go?" Adrian muttered beside him, and he shrugged. He didn't have any choice about that either.

---