Page 34 of Perfect Stalker

“Together?” At my nod, she smiles. “That sounds perfect.”

CHAPTER 13

JENNY

Isink into the warm, fragrant water of the sunken tub, letting it envelop me like a soothing embrace. The guest bathroom in Ivan’s penthouse is a haven of marble and chrome, a far cry from my modest apartment. I close my eyelids and breathe in the lavender-scented steam, and my mind wanders to the events of the past month.

It’s been almost four weeks since Ivan responded to Alexei’s threat. The details remain a mystery to me, but the results are clear. For now, he’s made no countermoves, at least none that Ivan has shared with me.

On my side, Stephen’s harassment has ceased, at least for the time being, though I remain wary that he’ll start again once his fear of Ivan fades. At the moment, a tentative peace has settled over me. I’ve found myself settling into a routine here in Ivan’s penthouse, a place that once felt alien but now carries a strange sense of comfort.

I trace my fingers along the surface of the water, watching the ripples spread. The thought of telling Ivan I’m ready to go home flits through my mind, but it dissipates as quickly as it forms. The truth is, I don’t want to leave. This realization startles me, and I sit up straighter in the tub, sloshing water around me.

“It’s just temporary,” I whisper to myself, the words echoing off the tiled walls. “Just until things are truly safe.” Even as I say it, I know it’s not entirely true. Part of me never wants to go home.

I trust Ivan with my safety—that much is certain. It’s my heart I’m not sure I can trust him with. The way he looks at me, the gentleness in his touch that belies his ruthless reputation—it all makes my head spin. I can’t see falling for him if I can’t trust him to respect my independence, but I worry that it’s already far too late to stop that.

I step out of the tub, wrapping myself in a plush towel. As I dry off and dress, I can’t shake the conflicting emotions swirling within me. Attraction wars with suspicion, desire with doubt.

Later, I search for my winter coat displaced by one of his staff when they moved me in, delving into one of Ivan’s many closets. I brush against something unexpected and push aside a row of impeccably tailored suits to reveal a box labeled “Christmas decorations” in neat English script but with definite Cyrillic influences

I smile when I pull out the box. The idea of Ivan, the formidableBratvaleader, owning Christmas decorations, is oddly endearing. Without really thinking about it, I carry the box to the living room. While I unpack the decorations, I impulsively decide to decorate. After all, it’s the first week of December. It’s time.

Daniil interrupts me, and I set him the task of finding a tree. He returns a while later with an artificial one, but it’s good quality, so I don’t complain or send him out for a real one, since I forgot to insist on that to start with.

I start assembling the tree, which quickly wins me over. It’s a beautiful artificial pine that looks almost real. As I put it together, piece by piece, I wonder about Ivan’s past Christmases. Did he decorate alone? Did he celebrate at all? The only one he’s really mentioned is the Christmas party that brought Vyacheslav and Lena into his life.

Next come the lights. I drape them carefully over the branches, the soft glow warming the room. Ornaments follow—delicate glass balls in deep reds and golds, intricately carved wooden figures that look handmade, and a couple of older pieces that might be sentimental. I treat those with extra care.

As I work, my mind wanders to Ivan. His motives, his past, and the secrets he still keeps from me. Will he ever fully open to me? Does he love me, or am I still just an inexplicable obsession? I’m not brave enough to ask when things are so precarious.

I hang a glittering star on a branch, remembering how intense he was when he told me I was his to protect. The possessiveness in his voice frightened me then, but remembering it now, I feel warm and…safe. It’s a crazy reaction, making me wonder if I’m as crazy as he is.

“Stop it, Jenny,” I mutter to myself, shaking my head. “You’re reading too much into things.”

But am I? The way Ivan looks at me sometimes, like I’m the most precious thing in the world. It’s hard to pretend he doesn’t…care about me or contemplate just how deeply his emotions go.

I step back to admire my handiwork. The tree looks beautiful, creating a festive glow. It’s amazing how such a simple thing can transform a space.

“What are you doing?”

Ivan’s deep voice startles me, and I whirl around to find him standing in the doorway. His gaze flick from me to the decorated tree, surprise evident on his usually stoic face.

“I... I found your Christmas decorations,” I stammer, suddenly feeling foolish. “I thought it might be nice to make things a bit more festive.”

He steps into the room, sweeping his gaze over the twinkling lights and ornaments. For a moment, I fear I’ve overstepped, but then something softens in his expression.

“It’s beautiful,” he says quietly, looking at me. “I haven’t bothered for the past few years, but I’m glad you did this. Thank you.”

The sincerity in his voice catches me off-guard. I’ve never seen Ivan look so...vulnerable. It makes my heart ache in a way for which I’m not prepared. “You’re welcome. I hope you don’t mind that I took the liberty...”

He shakes his head and smiles. “Not at all. It’s been a long time since this place was so jolly… like a real home.”

His words linger between us, heavy with implication. I want to ask him about his past Christmases, about the stories behind each ornament, but the words stick in my throat. Instead, I move closer to him, drawn by some invisible force. His eyes darken as I approach, and he transmits desire. “Jenny,” he says in a husky voice.

I stop, just inches away from him. Close enough to feel the heat radiating from his body, to smell the subtle scent of his cologne, but not close enough to give in to the impulse to fall into his arms. I have plans this afternoon, so there’s no time for that. Yet.

“Why did you really bring me here, Ivan?” I ask, my voice steadier than I feel as I’m seized by a compulsion I can’t fight or explain. “Is it just about keeping me safe?”

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