Page 42 of The Russian's Stalked Bride
Annoyingly, part of me misses how comfortable his bed is, even if I chose to sleep here last night. I try not to dwell too long on the implications.
Eventually, I hear typical movement from the kitchen, like the clinking of Ivan stirring his coffee, the fridge door opening and closing, followed by approaching footsteps. Then, a light knock at the door draws my attention over there.
“Mila?”
“I’m decent.”
The door eases open, and Ivan’s gaze lands on me immediately. Even if he tries to keep it discreet, I catch the brief once-over he performs, even while I’m still under the covers. “Get dressed.”
“Why?” I ask, feeling another flare of suspicion in me.
“We’re going out today, like you asked.”
I hesitate, feeling both a flicker of hope in my chest and the urge not to believe him. ‘Going out’ could mean many different things, and I can’t just assume it’s good.
“You wanted to see more of Vegas again, so I’m giving you that,” he adds, leaning his shoulder against the doorframe, dressed in dark trousers and a matching button-down with the cuffs rolled up. His hair’s half dry and styled neatly, looking every bit a man who knows exactly what he’s working with, as insufferable as that tends to be.
“Where?”
“You’ll see.”
“And this isn’t a trick?” I ask, studying his face for any kind of trap.
He gives me a pointed look. “No. No tricks.”
“And this isn’t a test?”
At that, Ivan sighs, but the slight grin on his lips gives away his surprisingly good mood. “You ask too many questions. We’re going out together for a few hours, then you’re coming back with me. That part is non-negotiable.”
I don’t move right away as I mull it over. The stubborn part of me is annoyed this isn’t really what I asked for, but at the same time, that hope spreads a little more at the prospect of getting out and away from the condo for a little while. I already know I’d feel better out there with him than stuck here on my own.
Finally, I move the blankets and get up. “Give me fifteen.”
I catch Ivan’s subtle smile and nod before he quietly exits again, leaving me to it. His obvious satisfaction both stirs something in me and makes me wish I could somehow wipe it from his face.
After washing up, my clothes are picked with more excitement than usual, and before long, we leave the house together. I don’t want him to assume this supposed day out is anything too important to me, but in a way, it is. If we really are seeing more of Vegas as he said, then that will be a significant change of pace.
Ivan grips the steering wheel a bit lighter while he navigates easily, obviously very familiar with the city. He even keeps the radio on, not so quick to turn it down. For once, he doesn’t look like he’s anticipating some disaster to happen at anygiven moment. If Ivan’s relaxed, then I feel more inclined to ease up on my suspicions, too.
And when the Strip comes into view, I find my chest aching less.
It’s not like I’ve never seen it before, obviously, but it’s a rare thing for me to get out during normal hours, and to peruse as anyone else would. If I were ever out with the sun, then it was with a strict purpose, not for pleasure or leisure.
Taking in the people, the movement, and the lit-up signs despite it being daytime, I watch with more interest than necessary, and I don’t care to stop.
Ivan parks somewhere out of the way, then he gets out and circles to my side, giving me a look that’s silently telling me not to get out a moment too soon. With sunglasses on, he pops the door open and gives me room.
Amusement settles in his features while he looks me over. “First day on the Strip?”
“No,” I say with a vaguely unimpressed glance at him, but I drop it, feeling too relieved by the fresh air to be overly bothered. “I’m just not used to seeing it without Carlo and Cesare…or in the light like this.”
“Then soak it in,” he says, surprisingly thoughtful as we start walking. “The day’s yours.”
There’s something strangely supportive in that claim, and even if I don’t want to fall for it, I don’t hate it.
I never thought simply moving with the crowd like this, unencumbered by my brothers or hovering guards, could feel this freeing, but it does. It’s just us, blending in and being part of something outside of myself.
It’s an overload to the senses, with music spilling from the various establishments, food smells wafting and tangling with perfume and warm pavement, but there’s something appealing about it anyway.
