Page 11 of The Russian's Stalked Bride
The word registers like a ridiculous thing in my mind, both absurd and unwelcome given the circumstances. I almost want to laugh.
Regardless of all the things I could notice right now, it’s there, and it’s undeniable.
He’s not falsely pretty or dressed in a way that feels forced. Instead, he’s the kind of handsome that puts your mind and your heart at odds, like you already know getting close to him could be a problem.
When he doesn’t look away, and I realize just how long I’ve been staring at him, I avert my gaze and clear my throat. It takes everything in my power to fight the heat crawling up my neck.
“You can’t go back,” he says, breaking that quiet spell.
Before I can stop myself, I furrow my brows as I look at him again. “What?”
Even if something in me agrees with the sentiment, it feels strange hearing it directly from his mouth.
“They’re going to be looking for you, and regardless of why you were running from them, I don’t think you’ll bewelcomed back warmly,” he murmurs, never letting his calm tone waver.
Hesitating, I know he’s right.
I disobeyed my brothers directly by running, and I managed to get some of their men killed in the process. Leaving puts their plan in jeopardy, and if I were to show up again, there’s no telling how they’d react. Especially Carlo.
Still, there’s a strange piece of me that feels like I should go back. That I have some kind of obligation to face them, even if that’s the last thing I want to do. It’s confusing, and I hate how it pulls at my heart.
Taking in a breath, I let it go again, feeling defeated. “I know…But I don’t have a choice. It was stupid of me to think I could get away from them.”
“But you did, technically,” he says, more like a temptation. “You just need to take it another step further.”
He catches me off guard, and as much as I don’t want to take advice from a man I don’t even know, my curiosity wins out. “How?”
The man doesn’t look away as something softer crosses his features. “Come with me. I’ll keep you safe until you figure out what to do.”
The offer settles in that silence again, full of promise and kindness I’m not used to receiving so readily. Usually, that kind of gentle reassurance isn’t given to me unless there’s something I’m meant to give in return.
But the reality of it sends a small prickle of resistance down my spine, and I almost gawk at him in disbelief. “You can’t be serious. I don’t even know your name.”
At that, a hint of amusement gleams in his eyes. “Ivan.”
“Ivan,” I repeat without meaning to, taking him in again, assessing him quietly. Even if I’m supposed to be desperate to get away from my brothers, I still need to be vigilant. But I don’t detect any kind of ill intentions from him, regardless of what he just did back there. “Where do you suggest?”
“Somewhere safe,” Ivan murmurs, leaning back in his seat, relaxed and unimposing. “I’ll take you to my place.”
I look up at that, not entirely on board with the implications.
But he puts his hands up. “I know it isn’t ideal, but it’s the best I can do for now. If you want to get out at any point, just tell me.”
Maybe I shouldn’t trust his words so blindly, but there’s something so disarming about the way he says it. Plus, I don’t have a plan. Running was my stepping-off point, and now, I have no idea where I’m going. I’ve never known anything different, and finding a place to start sounds out of reach.
At least with him, I’ll be away from them and given the chance to breathe. Maybe then I’ll think of something once my head is clear.
“Okay,” I say quietly, voice breaking slightly, though it surprises me how easily the word comes out.
Trust doesn’t feel like the right word for what I’m doing, since it’s more like following the momentum I started back at the restaurant. I’ve already taken the leap, and all I can do now is see where I land.
With a decisive nod, Ivan puts the car into drive and pulls out of the parking lot, steady as he eventually merges back into the flow of traffic.
The way there is quiet all the while I’m lost in thought, questioning what I’m going to do next, and thankfully, Ivan doesn’t press about why I was fleeing in the first place. He gives me room to process, even without stating it.
Eventually, the car turns onto a narrower street and then slows before pulling up to an underground garage hidden behind a black metal gate.
Ivan taps something into a keypad, and the gate rolls open with ease.
