Chapter 47 Chapter 47 The Mafia Boss
"You would have made a wonderful Duchess!" he smiles, but it doesn't reach his eyes. "Where is your detail? You do not have security?"
Ivan's father. The resemblance is almost unsettling—same blond hair, now threaded with gray at the temples, the same black eyes. He’s dressed in a custom-cut Armani suit that fits like a second skin. A scar cuts through his eyebrow and another marks one side of his neck. On the other side, inked into his skin, is their family crest—the same one on Ivan’s ring. They’re the same height too. Ivan is a perfect copy and paste of this man. Even the way he carries himself. Even the way he smells—expensive, controlled, dangerous.
He takes my hand, lifts it, and kisses it, bowing slightly as if we’re attending some royal function instead of standing here. I’m suddenly very aware of my posture, of everything. I’m glad my aunt holds the title. It’ll pass to Elena or Helena next.
"You can't be a Duchess if you are unable to bear an heir," I say flat. "And I don’t need security. Here in the States, I am just another nobody from a bad part of Vegas."
I glance at Matt. He immediately looks down.
"You should have security," Ivan’s father continues. "You’d think your family would have learned their lesson."
He knows. Of course he does.
The walls I’ve built so carefully start cracking. I feel exposed, raw. Ivan notices instantly. He shrugs off his shirt and drapes it over my shoulders.
"Father!!!" His voice cuts through the tension. He steps forward, placing a firm hand on his father’s shoulder. "My office. Now."
They leave quickly, tension trailing behind them. The room goes silent. Too silent.
I wish the ground would just open up and swallow me.
"Let’s go to the game room!" Miroslav announces, clapping his hands. He turns to Marta. "Can you bring snacks and drinks? Vladimir and Hristo will help." He snaps his fingers, and both men stand.
We follow him out of the kitchen and down the hallway. We pass a living room, then double doors, then another set before the game room opens up.
It’s massive. Walls lined with vintage and modern arcade machines. A dartboard. Two pool tables. A full-size bar with stools and a TV. The sliding glass doors are open.
I step outside.
An infinity pool stretches across the space. Umbrellas and lounge chairs are perfectly arranged. Wooden steps lead down to sand. Outdoor couches—at least ten—face each other with a long tabletop fireplace between them. The fortress walls extend outward into the sand. Security men stand posted along both sides.
Palm trees sway. Tall grass and flowers soften the edges.
"He has a theater and a gym," Miroslav says. "He never has to leave this place."
"It’s like a golden cage."
"I would call it a sanctuary." He pauses. "You know he’s never this soft around females."
"I don’t know what you mean." My face stays cold.
"You know exactly what he means. I never even get to face him when we fuck. And I’d bet my life he looked you in the eyes."
I don’t respond. It’s none of their business.
The tall brunette walks past us, already pulling her clothes off like we’re not even here. She leaves them on a lounge chair. She’s stunning—long legs, toned body, green eyes, dark brown hair catching the sunlight. I thought I wore small bikinis. Hers barely qualifies—just enough to cover her nipples, and a tiny strip barely concealing her completely waxed center.
"That’s Vladimira," Miroslav says, leaning closer.
"I didn’t ask," I reply. "Because I don’t care."
I turn and head back inside.
Colt is behind the bar, playing bartender. I slide onto a stool next to Tish.
"Drink?" he asks.
I nod.
Marcus wraps his arms around Tish while Andreas joins us.
"Keep Ashley away from the drinks unless you want to be poisoned!"
Everyone laughs. I join them, but it’s hollow. I still can’t get past it—what she did. Over a guy. Something as common as a man.
Ivan walks in, his father right behind him. The entire room shifts. Conversations die instantly. Everyone here fears him.
But I don’t.
To me, he feels safe. They both do.
The older Pavlov stops in the doorway.
"Duchess. A word."
I slide off the stool, shrug off Ivan’s shirt, and hand it back to him before walking toward his father. I follow him into the hallway.
"I would like to apologize," he says. "I made you uncomfortable. That was not my place." He hands me a card, his cell written on it. "I hope you have a nice week. And if you need anything—anything at all—call me."
He holds my gaze the entire time.
"I mean that."
Then he turns and walks away, his men following.
When I return, everything feels different.
Erika is straddling Kyle, making out. Marcus and Tish are laughing at an arcade game. Ashley is bent over the pool table while Vince presses against her from behind. Gemma and Colt are still at the bar. Everyone looks happy. Paired off.
I feel... alone.
Andreas has his new girl between his legs. Matt is flirting with Hope. Melanie and Donn are outside in the pool.
I turn and walk back out.
Ivan is stretched out on a lounge chair. His friends are scattered around, and the women with them are all naked.
My eyes follow his line of sight.
Vladimira.
She’s reclined on a chair, legs slightly parted, completely bare. Nothing hidden. I am staring at her pussy and so is Ivan. I really like him and I know whatever is between us is not serious but I expect respect and he is not giving it to me. It leaves a bad taste in my mouth.
I look away.
Nick is down by the water, sitting alone.
"Duchess! Where are you going?" Miroslav calls out.
I twist and flip him off. "I’m going to check on my step-brother!"
Laughter erupts behind me. Ivan and Miroslav glance between me and my group, confused.
"Inside joke!" I call back.
Nick is sitting in the sand when I reach him. I drop down beside him, not caring if the water soaks through my dress.
"So, I was thinking... all of our friends are dating—"
He cuts me off. "Yes. Whatever you want. Yes."
I blink. "Not exclusively, though. Just—"
"Friends with benefits," he finishes. "To be upfront... it was really hard not to slam inside you." he hesitates, like he shouldn't say it. "I really like you!"
A wave rushes up—ice cold—and crashes straight into me, soaking my lap.
We both jump up, shouting as the freezing water hits, killing whatever heat he’d just created.