Page 8 of Knocked Up By the Russian

"You're welcome to borrow a shirt to sleep in if you want," he mentioned, fingers running through his hair as she approached his bed.

Amy's eyes flicked toward the two arched entrances on the far side of the room. His closet and bathroom. The second, she knew, shared the same window design.

"Do you have something against closed spaces, Ivan?" she asked, flicking her gaze toward him.

That ghost of a smile appeared again, teasing her, and she flushed. "Something like that," he mentioned eventually, his voice seductively low. "Don't tell me you're shy, Mishka."

Well, she sure as hell wasn't about to use his toilet when he'd be able to hear her. She eyed him apprehensively and he smirked playfully as he grabbed a pillow. "You could always use the bathroom downstairs."

"Where are you going to sleep?" she asked him as he retreated to the stairs.

"The living room, Mishka." His eyes danced with amusement. "Unless you want to cuddle against me tonight?"

Amy scoffed and he let out a low rumble of laughter, leaning against the railing seemingly without a care in the world. Her heart fluttered nervously for him, or at least that's what she blamed it on as she looked away.

"We can go to your place in the morning to get a few things," he murmured, and when she looked at him again, he looked tired.

"I'll see you in the morning, Ivan," she whispered, and that same teasing smile flashed back into place for a nanosecond.

"Goodnight, Mishka."

***

Sleep didn't come easy for either of them that night. As she drifted in and out of it, Amy could hear Ivan speaking to his brothers until early in the morning. On the phone, she assumed—but there'd also been a point where she could've sworn she heard Adrian's voice downstairs too. It wasn't really that ludicrous to assume but all of that was lost in the rush to get ready for work.

When they finally arrived at the club around midday, it was chaos. Ivan darted in and out of meetings, while Brittany hadn't shown up again. With the stress from the day before, Amy's nerves were strung tight as she double-checked the rosters—only to realize Brittany had mixed up the staff's shifts.

With the previous day's incident, Amy had been more than ready to put some distance between her and the Bratva. Instead, she ended up on the phone with Maya to discuss the mix-up, and half an hour passed before they eventually decided to wait until more information came through.

Three hours passed before she finally managed to step into the office. Her gaze slid over Ivan’s empty seat until it came to rest on her own desk, where a package was waiting. Not giving it much thought, Amy slumped into her leather office chair and pulled out a letter opener to rip through the clear tape holding it together.

Tape gone, she flicked open the parcel, looked inside—and froze.

A moment later, Ivan slammed open the door to their office, jerking her from her thoughts as if she'd been shot this time.

Inhaling sharply, Amy shivered.

As she considered throwing the package away, Ivan threw his phone onto his desk with a clatter and turned to face her. Her expression must've given her away because he stilled, his own darkening. "What's that?"

"N—nothing," she lied and her hands shook as she tried to close it, but he crossed the room and snatched it from her grasp before she could.

Intangible Russian spilled from his lips as he poured the contents out, flinging the box to the floor. A bullet tumbled onto her desk, silver and gleaming, her name etched onto its surface—but it was the piece of paper that followed that made Amy avoid his icy gaze as he read it over.

"Amy, what is this?" The darkness in her voice made her shiver.

"A job offer," she croaked and his lips thinned.

"Who else knows about this, Mishka?"

"No one," she whispered.

"Is it one of our competitors?"

She nodded, staring at her fingernails.

"Look at me!" he stated sharply and she flinched, meeting his stormy blue eyes as a tear dropped down her cheek. "Do you realize how this looks?"

"It's from before last night," she argued, feeling another tear slip. She knew exactly how it appeared.

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