Page 6 of Knocked Up By the Russian

Hearing his nickname made Ivan twitch, and Andre watched him with a smile. Thinking quickly, Ivan smiled coldly. "That's none of your business. She isn't a spy, and the club is closed. She was waiting for me to finish, but things ran a little longer than they should've."

"That doesn't answer my question, Ivan. Who is she?"

"She's mine," he bit out. "That's all you need to know."

"Yours? I don't see a ring, Vanya," Maksim drawled, taking a sip of his whiskey.

Ivan fought back a grin; Maksim had inadvertently offered him a solution. But he hesitated, unsure how Amy would react if he said too much. Sergei, waving his gun like the crazy fool he was, chimed in, "The normal girls know better than to interrupt Bratva business. How do you think this looks?"

Whores, he meant. Ivan bristled. Of course, Amy didn't understand the rules like thenormal girlsdid. She was his, and he had to get her out of there before she got hurt. She'd stepped in the middle of an investigation, he knew how it would look. The men would think she was fishing for information—the same information he'd tried to drag out of Boris when he snapped the man's jaw. He had to think fast, and the more he thought about it, the more the idea of marriage seemed like the perfect excuse.

As Andre sauntered closer, Ivan unholstered his gun and pointed it at him. "Come near my fiancée and you'll join Boris on the floor."

The room around them went silent, but the tension that had been there a moment before faded. Sergei snorted and Ivan ground his teeth as the men started to laugh. "You really want us to believe you're getting married, Vanya? You?"

"Why not? Even you got married," he countered in an icy tone as he dropped his gun, and pulled Amy to his side.

"It's true," Adrian agreed, locking eyes with Ivan. He knew what his brother wanted. They had to make this believable. Turning back to Amy, his fingers delicately slipped a few wayward strands of her hair behind her ears before he tipped herchin up to him. Her eyes were unfocused during the movement, but then she blinked, and he felt a jolt of determination.

"Mishka, tell the men we're getting married." He breathed the words on her lips, watching her eyes dilate just for him.

Chapter 3 - Amy

Married?Amy almost laughed out loud but the serious expression on Ivan's face said he wasn't joking.

It was easier to stare into his eyes instead of at the dead eyes of the man lying on the floor, but her thoughts were still sluggish as she considered what he was saying.Married.Her and Ivan?It didn't make any sense. The man drove her insane on a good day, no one she knew would believe it—but the only person around whocouldprotest it was Adrian, and considering everything that had just happened, she really didn't think he was going to.

"Amy?" Ivan murmured, his voice was calm but the slight downturn by his lip that she was sure only she could see made her think he was more worried than he let on.

"We are," she croaked, looking into his eyes as she agreed to his crazy scheme. His whole body relaxed as he pulled her closer and Amy pretended she didn't see the relief that flashed across his face, squeezing her own eyes shut. "We're getting married."

Just for the moment. Just to get out of here.

"I don't see a ring," someone taunted while she buried her face in Ivan's shirt. For once, his cologne didn't drive her crazy. Instead, it grounded her as she squeezed tighter against him. Breathing it in, she felt more than heard Ivan's growled response.

"It's at the jeweler, you old bastard. Now if you'll please excuse me, I'm going to take my fiancée home before you terrify her further. Adrian? Throw me my keys please."

His keys?Amy thought hysterically. His bike's keys were still in her hand, but she heard the familiar tinkling of keys thrown. Felt his arm swing out to catch them, and loosened her hold when Ivan took his actual keys and threw them back at his brother.

"Clean up here and lock up. I think we've discussed enough tonight."

Amy couldn't help but look back one last time and met the eyes of the man with the cigar as he smirked, his eyes deader than the man on the floor. She shuddered, acid burning her throat as she swallowed down the urge to vomit.

"Running out so soon?" he mentioned casually.

Ivan snorted, his voice cold when he answered. "You're damn right I am and you'll be leaving too, unless you'd like to be the one to explain to Mikhail why the fuck Boris has a bullet in his head."

"Guess the fun's over then," another said dryly as he saluted them sardonically. "Congratulations on the wedding, Vanya. Hope you'll spare me an invite."

"My fiancée is in charge of the invites, Andre, and I doubt she'll want to see your ugly mug after this."

Blood draining from her face, Amy let Ivan tug her away while the men chuckled behind her. Ivan would fix this, she was sure. They weren't actually going to get married, she just had to wait until they were alone to figure out what his plan was. Still, her legs wobbled in her high heels as she followed him out of the club and toward a car outside.Adrian's, she realized numbly as Ivan unlocked the silver Camaro's doors and helped her into the passenger seat.

"Why are we using your brother’s car?" she asked him numbly as he grabbed the seatbelt and made sure it was on properly.

"I don't have a choice, Mishka. I'm not going to drive you home on the bike when you're barely able to walk."

"And mine?" she countered, already knowing his answer. As predicted, Ivan gave her a look of disbelief for daring to mention her car. "I could've held on," she muttered finally, referring to the bike again.

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