Page 21 of Perfect Stalker

JENNY

Iwake to the tantalizing aroma of freshly brewed coffee and sizzling eggs. Blinking away the remnants of sleep, I push myself up on my elbows, momentarily disoriented by the unfamiliar surroundings. Then it all comes rushing back—Ivan, theBratva, and Stephen’s threats. My stomach churns with anxiety and anticipation when I swing my legs over the side of the bed.

The floor is cool beneath my bare feet as I pad toward the kitchen. I pause in the doorway, struck by the sight before me. Ivan stands at the stove, his broad back to me, muscles rippling beneath his thin T-shirt as he tends to the frying pan. It’s such a domestic scene, at odds with everything I’ve learned about him in the past twenty-four hours.

“Good morning,” I say, my voice still husky from sleep.

He turns, a spatula in one hand and a steaming mug of coffee in the other, taking in my rumpled appearance. “Sleep well?”

I nod, accepting the coffee he offers. “Better than I expected, given the circumstances.”

A ghost of a smile touches his lips. “Good. Sit. Breakfast is almost ready.”

I settle at the kitchen island, wrapping my hands around the warm mug. The aroma of coffee is comforting, like a small slice of realness in this surreal situation. Ivan plates the eggs, adding crispy bacon and perfectly golden toast.

“You didn’t have to do all this,” I say when he sets a plate in front of me.

“I wanted to.” His looks at me, and I glimpse something soft in those steel-gray eyes. Then it’s gone, replaced by his usual mask of cool control. “Eat. We have things to discuss.”

My appetite vanishes at his words, but I force myself to take a bite of the eggs. They’re delicious, of course. I shouldn’t be surprised that Ivan Markov is as skilled in the kitchen as he seems to be at everything else.

We eat in silence for a few minutes, the only sounds the clink of cutlery against China. Finally, he pushes aside his empty plate and fixes me with an intense stare.

“There are going to be some changes, Jenny. For your protection.”

I set down my fork, my hackles rising at his tone. “What kind of changes?”

“You’ll stay with me, as you agreed.”

“For one night, last night?—”

He continues as though I didn’t protest. “We’ll go to work together and return together. Someone will be watching you at all times.”

Anger flares, hot and sudden, constricting my chest. “Excuse me? You can’t just dictate my life like that. I’m not a prisoner, Ivan.”

A muscle in his jaw ticks. “This isn’t up for debate. Stephen is still out there, and until I neutralize the threat?—”

“Neutralize?” I interrupt, raising my voice. “What exactly does that mean?”

His gaze bores into mine. “It means I’ll do whatever is necessary to keep you safe. By any means necessary.”

I shiver at the inferences I draw from his words and push back from the island, needing some distance. “This is insane. You can’t just lock me away and play bodyguard. I have a life. Friends, family, and responsibilities.”

“A life that’s in danger,” he says, rising to his feet. He towers over me, and his presence fills the spacious kitchen. “Do you think Stephen will simply give up? That he won’t try again?”

I wrap my arms around myself, hating the way his words make sense. The memory of Stephen’s break-in attempt is still fresh, the terror still raw. He came to my place after a year away, no doubt risking whatever deal he has with his father. He’s clearly obsessed. “I... I know he’s dangerous, but there has to be another way. We could go to the police, file a report?—”

Ivan’s laugh is sharp and humorless. “The police? They’re useless against men like Stephen. Men with money and connections.”

“So what, I’m just supposed to trust you instead?” I snap, even as a part of me acknowledges the truth in his words. “A man I barely know, who turns out to be some kind of...of crime lord?”

His eyes flash dangerously. “I’ve been protecting you for longer than you know. Whether you like it or not, you’re safer with me than anywhere else.”

I turn away, running a hand through my tangled hair. My mind is a whirlwind of conflicting emotions—fear, anger, and underneath it all, a traitorous spark of attraction to this dangerous man, who seems driven to keep me safe.

“I need to call the police,” I say, reaching for my phone on the counter. “At least file a report about Stephen’s harassment. Maybe they can?—”

Ivan moves faster than I thought possible. He closes his hand around my wrist, stopping me from grabbing the phone. “No police,” he says firmly. “They’ll just get in the way. I told you, I’ll handle this. Permanently.”

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