Till Death Saves Me (Forced Mafia Marriages)

12. Ginny

12

GINNY

I step out of the boutique, my arms laden with shopping bags, feeling a bit guilty about the amount I've spent. But hey, if Ivan's going to keep me cooped up in his house, I might as well look fabulous doing it.

And I might have bought a few more of those tiny bikinis he's been eyeing…

As I make my way down the bustling sidewalk, a prickle of unease crawls up my spine. I glance over my shoulder, catching sight of a man in a dark jacket about twenty feet behind me. He's probably just another shopper, right?

I pick up my pace, weaving through the crowd. My heart starts to race as I realize the man is matching my speed. Shit. Where's Dmitry? Ivan's guy was supposed to be tailing me, but I can't spot him anywhere.

I duck into a nearby department store, hoping to lose my shadow in the maze of clothing racks. My palms are sweating as I navigate through the store, constantly checking behind me. There he is again, pretending to browse but his eyes never leave me.

Panic claws at my throat. I head for the exit, bursting back onto the street. My eyes dart around, searching desperately for Dmitry's familiar face. Nothing.

I spot an alley up ahead and make a split-second decision. Ducking into it, I press myself against the brick wall, trying to steady my breathing. The sound of footsteps grows closer. My whole body tenses.

A shadow falls across the alley entrance. I hold my breath, my heart pounding so loud I'm sure he can hear it. The shadow lingers for what feels like an eternity before finally moving on.

I let out a shaky exhale, but I know I'm not safe yet. I need to get back to the main street, find Dmitry, or call Ivan. God, I never thought I'd be so desperate to see my husband's scowling face.

Clutching my bags close, I peer out of the alley. The coast seems clear, but as I step out, a hand clamps down on my shoulder.

I whirl around, a scream caught in my throat. The man's grip tightens, his eyes cold and calculating. My heart pounds so hard I think it might burst out of my chest.

Suddenly, a blur of motion catches my eye. Before I can process what's happening, Ivan materializes like the devil himself. His face is carved from stone, eyes blazing with a fury I've never seen before.

In one fluid motion, Ivan grabs the attacker's wrist, twisting it at an unnatural angle. The man howls in pain, releasing me. I stumble back, watching in shock as Ivan moves with lethal grace.

The attacker swings wildly, but Ivan dodges effortlessly. His fist connects with the man's jaw, the crack echoing in the alley. Blood sprays from the guy's mouth as he staggers.

Ivan doesn't let up. He drives his knee into the man's stomach, then slams his elbow into the back of his neck. The attacker crumples to the ground, gasping for air.

The whole time shoppers move around us like it's a casual occurrence, side stepping the body on the ground and looking annoyed about it. Just how sheltered was I that I feel so shocked by it all?

"Virginia, are you hurt?" Ivan's voice is tight, controlled, but I can hear the underlying rage.

I shake my head, unable to form words. My whole body is trembling.

Ivan's attention snaps back to the groaning man at his feet. He grabs a fistful of the attacker's hair, yanking his head back. "Who sent you?" he snarls, his accent thicker than I've ever heard it.

The man spits blood, refusing to answer. Ivan's eyes narrow dangerously. He twists the man's arm behind his back, pushing it to its breaking point. "I won't ask again."

Just then, Dmitry appears, looking perfectly calm. I wonder how close he was the whole time since he looks so unruffled. "You want me to take him?"

"Yes," Ivan snarls, his voice like ice. "Make him talk."

Dmitry nods, grabbing the semiconscious attacker and dragging him away. I watch, still frozen in place, as Ivan turns to me. His eyes sweep over me, checking for injuries.

"Are you sure you're not hurt?" he asks again, his voice softer now but still edged with tension.

I open my mouth to respond, but no words come out. The adrenaline is wearing off, leaving me shaky and weak-kneed. Ivan steps closer, his hand hovering near my arm, not quite touching.

"It's okay," he murmurs. "You're safe now."

I can't stop shaking as Ivan's hands move over me, checking for injuries. His touch is surprisingly gentle, a stark contrast to the violence I just witnessed. My heart races, but I'm not sure if it's from the lingering fear or something else entirely.

"I'm fine," I manage to whisper, my voice trembling. "Just... shaken up."

Ivan's eyes meet mine, and for a moment, I see a flicker of something beyond his usual cold demeanor. Concern? Relief? Before I can process it, he scoops me up into his arms.

I let out a small gasp of surprise. Despite everything, I can't help but notice how solid and warm he feels. My body seems to melt against his chest, seeking comfort I didn't know I needed.

He carries me to his car, setting me gently in the passenger seat. As he buckles me in, his face is inches from mine. I catch a whiff of his cologne. I let the sandalwood scent envelop me, easing me.

"You're safe now," Ivan says, his voice low and intense.

My brain is still scrambling with the details "How did you get here so fast?"

He buckles me in, running his hands over me again like he just has to make sure I'm fine. "I was on my way home when one of my men tipped me off. There were three of us watching you. He never would have hurt you." But then his voice dips down. "He never should have even fucking touched you, but I will make sure you are always safe. No one will get to you, Virginia. I won't allow it."

The use of my full name, usually an irritation, now feels oddly comforting. I nod, unable to form words. As the adrenaline fades, exhaustion sets in, along with a flood of emotions I can't quite sort out.

I'm grateful, of course. Terrified still, but also... something else. The image of Ivan taking down my attacker with such effortless skill keeps replaying in my mind. It should frighten me, this glimpse of his dangerous world. Instead, I find myself oddly fascinated.

As Ivan starts the car, I steal a glance at him. His jaw is clenched tight, eyes focused on the road. But one of his hands reaches over, resting on my knee. It's meant to be reassuring, I'm sure, but the warmth of his touch sends a jolt through me.

I'm glad it was Ivan who saved me. The thought surprises me as soon as it forms. But it's true. In that moment of terror, seeing his face was like a lifeline. For all our differences, all our fights, I felt safe the instant he appeared.

I can't stop sneaking glances at Ivan as we drive home. His jaw is clenched tight, hands gripping the steering wheel like he wants to strangle it. The tension radiating off him is almost palpable.

My heart's still racing from the attack, but there's something else making it pound now. I can't shake the image of Ivan taking down that guy. It was terrifying, sure, but also... impressive. The way he moved, so quick and precise. Like a predator.

I should be scared of him. He's dangerous, deadly even. I've always known that, intellectually. But seeing it firsthand? It's different. And the craziest part is, I don't feel afraid. Not of him, anyway.

When he showed up, it was like the whole world righted itself. I felt safe the moment I saw him. How messed up is that? The man I've been resenting, arguing with, trying to keep at arm's length... he's the one I wanted most when I was in danger.

I sneak another look at his profile. God, he's handsome when he's all brooding and intense like this. The thought catches me off guard, and I have to stifle a hysterical little laugh. Here I am, ogling my forced husband right after nearly being kidnapped or worse.

But I can't help it. There's something about knowing what he's capable of, seeing that raw power... and knowing it will never be turned against me. He might be cold sometimes, frustrating often, but I realize now that I've never truly feared him. And after today, I don't think I ever will.

I'm supposed to hate this life, this world of violence and danger. But there's a part of me, a part I'm only just discovering, that's drawn to it. Drawn to him.

Oh fuck. I think I'm starting to like my husband.