Till Death Saves Me (Forced Mafia Marriages)

11. Ivan

11

IVAN

I help Virginia out of the car, her bags weighing down my arms as we make our way to the front door. The day's been... unexpected, to say the least. Seeing her eyes light up at her favorite spots in the city, hearing that musical laugh - it's stirred something in me I can't quite name. Something I'm not sure I want to acknowledge.

We step inside, and I'm about to head straight for my study when Virginia stops me. Her delicate hand touches my arm, and I freeze.

Every muscle in my body tenses, and I don't even know why. It's like she has some kind of hold over me, one I have been ignoring with all my might.

But then she leans in, her lips brushing against mine. Soft. Warm. Intoxicating. My skin ignites where she touches me, a jolt of electricity racing through my veins.

"Thank you for today," she murmurs, her breath tickling my ear. The scent of her perfume - sweet vanilla - floods my senses.

Before I can react, before I can even form a coherent thought, she takes the bags from my slack grip and disappears up the stairs to her room. I stand there, rooted to the spot, my mind reeling. The silence of the house presses in around me, broken only by the pounding of my heart.

What the hell just happened?

My hand moves of its own accord, fingers tracing where her lips touched. The ghost of her kiss lingers, sending sparks through my body.

This wasn't part of the plan. This wasn't supposed to happen. I'm not supposed to feel this way. Virginia was meant to be a business arrangement, nothing more. But now... now I'm not so sure.

I shake my head, trying to clear it. But her touch, her scent, the softness of her lips - it's all burned into my memory.

I'm not sure what is happening. I'm not some teenager who has never touched a girl. And it was just a kiss, barely one. I've seen more passionate kisses as greetings among the Bratva. But her touching me…it does something to me.

Fuck. I need a drink.

Stalking to my study, I pour myself a generous measure of whiskey, downing it in one burning gulp. The alcohol does nothing to dull the memory of her touch.

What is this woman doing to me?

The feeling doesn't leave me all night and into the next day. I go to work, welcoming the blaring noise of Manhattan as I try to drown out the thoughts that seem to plague me.

But it doesn't work.

I stare at the documents spread across my desk, but the words blur together. My mind refuses to focus on the task at hand, instead replaying yesterday's events on an endless loop.

Virginia's laugh echoes in my ears, bright and carefree. I see her eyes lit up as we walked through her favorite bookstore, her fingers trailing over worn spines. The way she bit her lip, considering which volume to add to her growing pile.

I would have bought her the whole goddamn store if she asked me to. I might do it anyway just to get another kiss.

"Fuck," I mutter, rubbing my temples. This isn't like me. I don't get distracted. I don't daydream about women, especially not my wife. I was worried she'd be a liability, but not like this.

But here I am, unable to shake the memory of her smile, the way her whole face transformed when she was truly happy. And despite my best efforts to deny it, a part of me is glad I was the one to put that smile there.

The scent of her perfume lingers in my mind, and I wonder if she would taste as sweet as she smells. What would it be like to bury my face in her neck, to breathe her in...

A sharp knock on my office door snaps me back to reality. Lev strides in, eyebrow raised as he takes in my disheveled appearance.

"You look like shit," he says bluntly, dropping into the chair across from me. "Late night?"

I grunt, not willing to admit the real reason for my distraction. "What do you want, Lev?"

He slides a file across my desk. "New intel on the Red Serpents. Thought you'd want to see it right away."

I flip open the folder, forcing myself to focus on the information in front of me. But even as I read, a traitorous part of my mind wonders what Virginia is doing right now. Is she thinking about yesterday too?

"Ivan?" Lev's voice cuts through my thoughts. "You with me?"

I nod, pushing thoughts of Virginia aside. There's work to be done, and I can't afford to be distracted. Not when there's so much at stake.

But as Lev starts outlining our next move, I can't help but feel a twinge of something unfamiliar. For the first time in years, I find myself looking forward to going home.

Instead, an hour later, I find myself standing in one of our warehouses, surrounded by my men, trying to focus on the task at hand. But every time I open my mouth to give an order, Virginia's face flashes through my mind.

"Alexei, I need you to—" I start, but then I remember how Virginia's eyes lit up when she saw that bookstore yesterday. I shake my head, clearing my throat. "I need you to check our shipments. Make sure everything's accounted for. Rumor has it we're looking at another hit and we need to get ahead of it."

Alexei nods and moves off. I turn to the next guy, Dmitry, but as I look at him, all I can think about is how Virginia laughed at some stupid joke I made without even meaning to.

"Dmitry, take care of the..." I trail off, my mind wandering to the way Virginia's hand felt in mine as we walked through the park. Fuck. "Take care of the accounts. Make sure we're not being shorted. New people in the territory means that the people under our protection need to know their loyalties are staying."

At least I manage to get that out.

This is ridiculous. I'm Ivan fucking Kozlov. I don't get distracted. I don't lose focus. But here I am, struggling to give simple orders because I can't get my wife out of my head.

For some reason every task, every order reminds me of her in some way. The weapons shipment makes me think of how delicate her hands looked holding a coffee cup. The money laundering reminds me of the way her eyes sparkled when she talked about her favorite charity.

It's driving me fucking insane.

I try to focus, to push thoughts of Virginia aside, but it's like trying to hold back the tide. She's there, in every corner of my mind, refusing to be ignored.

"Listen up," I growl, frustration seeping into my voice. "I want everything running smoothly by the time I get back. No fuck-ups, no mistakes. Understood?"

My men nod, a chorus of "Yes, boss" echoing through the warehouse. But even as I watch them scatter to their tasks, all I can think about is getting home to Virginia.

What the hell is happening to me?

By the end of the day, I'm pretty sure I'm losing it. I grip the steering wheel tightly, my knuckles turning white as I navigate through the evening traffic. The city lights blur past, but I barely notice them. My mind is a whirlwind of conflicting emotions, each fighting for dominance.

Fuck. What's wrong with me?

I've faced down rival gangs without breaking a sweat. I've negotiated million-dollar deals with ice in my veins. But the thought of seeing Virginia again has my heart racing like some goddamn teenager.

The memory of her kiss flashes through my mind for the millionth time today. Soft. Sweet. Dangerous. I growl in frustration, slamming my hand against the wheel.

This isn't me. I don't get flustered over women, especially not one who's supposed to be nothing more than a business arrangement. I don't lose my temper ever. I'm calm. I'm in control.

But Virginia... she's gotten under my skin in a way I never expected.

For the hundredth time, I replay every detail of my day with her yesterday. My body reacts to these memories, a heat spreading through me that has nothing to do with the car's temperature. I shift uncomfortably in my seat, cursing under my breath as my cock starts to harden.

As I turn onto our street, a mix of dread and anticipation coils in my gut. What will happen when I see her? Will she act like nothing's changed? Or will she look at me with those warm brown eyes, and I'll be lost all over again?

Will she be in that bikini and finally snap the last thread holding me together?

Part of me wants to turn the car around, to drive until this feeling fades. But a stronger part, a part I'm not ready to examine too closely, urges me forward.

I pull into the driveway, killing the engine. For a long moment, I just sit there, staring at the house. Our house. The thought sends another jolt through me.

Taking a deep breath, I step out of the car. And when I spot Virginia out by the pull again, I head straight upstairs to a cold shower and an unsatisfying orgasm to the thought of my wife that does nothing to cool the desire burning in my veins.