Chapter 37 Chapter 37 My Birthday
"God, Elle, he is so fine! You have been living with him since he picked you up from Greece. Those pictures are fire. Vince is all sorts of bothered!" laughs Gemma on speaker.
"Shhh, he could hear you. I have you on speaker. I am getting ready."
"How well does he speak English? You should be fine! What are you wearing?"
"I don’t—"
Knock, knock echoes through my room. "Elle?"
I open the door, and it’s Ivan. He hands me a garment bag. "You look better in silver. I am leaving!"
He doesn’t wait for me to respond—he’s gone, down the hall and out the front door.
"OMG, was that him??? His voice is deep and velvety and so fucking sexy. I knew it, I should have come with you," she pouts.
"He gave me a garment bag and took off." I open it, and it’s a really cute silver dress. It… it’s the blue dress, but in silver. I can’t help the grin that spreads across my face.
"I will be awaiting more hot pictures. Have a great time!!! I can’t wait for you to come home!"
An hour later, I stare at myself in the mirror as my sister comes to pick me up. I open the front door and step out.
"When did you get that? Where? It’s so cute!"
"Ivan got it for me!"
"No, Elle! Did you sleep with him?!"
"No!!! I did not. I think he felt bad for the blue dress!"
"I don’t even want to know. Those pictures of the two of you… if Stanislav sees them—"
"They are just that—pictures. Nothing happened!" Even though I wanted something to happen, I am not telling her that. "He won’t see them. Unlike you, he does not stalk my socials for pictures."
Another hour passes, and we are at the club. My cousins are all here. Stanislav is sitting at the same table with some guys, but Ivan is not there.
"He isn’t here!" says Gabriella.
"Who?"
"Elena Dimitrova… who do you think you are talking to?" she asks, eyebrows scrunched.
"She always has to have a guy. One in Greece, one in Bulgaria… who is waiting for you stateside?" asks my sister, sliding into the booth. I am still standing because I was looking for Ivan, and I don’t feel like sitting yet.
"Mason Jones!!! That is who is waiting stateside!"
"The boxer? Jesus Christ, stay away from athletes!"
"We are not all bad!" says a deep voice behind me. "I hope you are not going to date that loser!"
No, no, no. There is no way I am turning around. He cannot be here—they cannot be here right now. Gabriella is grinning, my sister looks pissed, and Elena just looks shocked. I turn slowly, and it’s none other than Alek. Keeping my fingers crossed that Sergey is not here. The lights are dim, but he looks hot as hell—his dress shirt stretched tight over every muscle on his chest, his hair a mess in a way that somehow works.
"Where is shortstop?"
"We are not dating anymore, and I know you know that!"
"I do know that." He leans closer, embracing me. "Where is the new guy? Sergey says he sounds tough. I saw your pictures—not your usual clean-cut type."
"I don’t have a type!"
Alek raises his hand and waves. My head snaps over, and I see Sergey pulling his fiancée with him. Fucking kill me now. I need backup, but my family—they are too busy gawking. It takes them a few minutes, but Sergey and the model reach us. He gives me a hug and introduces me to her. I forget her fucking name the moment he says it. Sergey introduces me as a friend—punch to the gut. I hate the way I feel now that he is standing next to me. Trying to hold it together, I introduce them to my sister and cousins.
We make small talk, but it’s awkward as fuck.
"Dushichka!!!" His big arms wrap around me. "I am sorry, I didn’t mean to be late!"
He called me his soul. Ivan pulls me in and kisses me. My breath leaves my body, his hand sliding to my ass. He dips me slightly, my mind going blank. Our tongues meet, slow and deliberate. He tastes like mint and tobacco. He pulls back, my face flushed, my heart racing, his hand still on my ass.
"Apologies! I am Ivan!" he says, speaking English without an accent—wow. He shifts me from his left to his right arm and reaches out to Alek first. I forget Ivan is a lefty, like Sergey.
"Alek!" he grins.
"I am Sergey!"
"That’s right—you interrupted dinner a few days ago." He pulls me tighter at the waist. "Unfortunately, the birthday girl owes me a dance. Please, have a great night at my club!"
Ivan turns his face toward me. "Lyubov moya, after you!"
Sergey turns completely red as I drag Ivan away to the dance floor. We weave through people until we reach the middle. I can still see them from here—they are talking to my sister. Stanislav looks utterly irritated; he must have seen us.
Ivan spins me out of his arms and pulls me back in. The music slows at just the right moment. He lifts my arms and places them around his neck.
"That was a little thick."
"Is he still red, gripping her hand?"
"Yes."
"You’re welcome."
"Your English accent is perfect—you sound so West Coast."
He leans closer. "That’s because I live in LA."
Oh shit. He lives close to me. Relief and worry both hit at once. Where is this going? What am I doing with this guy? He pulls me closer and kisses my forehead.
"Calm down. I am not the dating or girlfriend type of guy."
"Was I making a face?"
"All the faces," he laughs. "Like I said, your cousin is going to have my head. Is he still watching us?"
"Oh yeah—but he’s also talking to Sergey and Alek. Turn me around… I am going to grind my ass on you."
"Save some for later," he jokes—but our eyes meet, and we both know we are not joking.
It’s happening.
And then I am going home.
Whatever this is between us—it stays here.