After that blowjob. Good girls always swallow.
And after him telling me no to going home again, even just to say goodbye. He’ll always see me as someone to be sheltered—and someone to be fucked.
I can’t be his whore either, the woman he keeps in a side room, convenient when he wants to fuck. That’s all my mother was, and I swore to myself I would never do it. I would rather dance for a hundred men and be my own woman than belong to anyone.
Chapter Twenty
The thing about riverboats, especially one as large as the Divina, is that they’re basically floating buildings. They’re huge, so the motion of the water is minimal. There are glamorous rooms for dining and gambling and fucking. And there are back rooms for sleeping it off.
Fedor greets me with a distracted, “There you are. Downstairs, quickly now. We’re pushing off soon.”
I don’t fault him for being distracted. I’m surprised he met me personally at all. Nervousness twists my stomach. Can I trust him? No, that’s a silly question. Of course I can’t trust him. All I can trust is his animosity toward Ivan, which is all-encompassing and universal. He’s always doing things to fuck with Ivan, things like stealing away key employees or encroaching on his turf, and this will be no different.
I get a few strange looks because I’m in street clothes. A pink polka-dot ruffled tank top and cutoff jean shorts. My sandals have rhinestones on them. So I might stand out from the glittering jewels and ball gowns. But even if I were dressed right, I have no desire to gamble. I definitely have no desire to strip. In fact the only thing I want…
The only thing I want is Ivan.
That is the sad truth. I pass by a wall made of mirrors and see myself walking by. I look…young. Is that why he calls me his little girl? But I am a woman. I have the breasts and the ass to prove it. And what’s more, I know how to use them. No matter what I do it’s never enough.
I’ll always be a little girl to him.
I cross my arms as if they can be a shield against these people. Against myself. I don’t want to see what I look like. I don’t want to see how young I look—because I am young, compared to these people. Compared to how I think of myself. I’m nineteen, significantly younger than Ivan. Maybe that’s why he doesn’t take me seriously. Maybe that’s why he can never see me as his equal.
Instead of remaining in the front rooms, I check in with the concierge to claim an empty back room. I can stay here until we reach the other side. I lie down on the bed and drift off to the faint rhythm of the river, dreaming of blood and poles and gray eyes.
A knock at the door startles me awake.
I reach for the door. “Is it time to go—”
My question gets caught in my throat as I look into the gray eyes of my dream.
“Where were you planning on going?” Ivan asks.
Oh shit. “What? How did you…?”
He gives me a dark look, pushing his way into the room and locking the door behind him. I can’t help but swallow hard, fear and anticipation warring in my chest. He found me, again. He’s going to punish me. God help me, the first feeling I have is relief.
“Fedor wants to fuck with me,” Ivan bites out, his tone making it clear that Fedor relayed our entire conversation. “But he doesn’t want to start a fucking war. He’s not stupid. He knows that if he helped you get away, I would never rest until there was nothing left of him.”
I shiver at the certainty in his voice. “But…why?”
“Why?” Ivan’s laugh is a cold, hard sound. “Fuck if I know why, little girl. You’re more trouble than you’re worth. Except I can’t seem to let you go.”
You’re more trouble than you’re worth. The words bang around in my head, an echo of everything I ever heard as a child. “I want to leave,” I say, backing up. “You can’t keep me against my will.”
His expression is unforgiving. “Watch me.”
I close my eyes, feeling hot tears of frustration slide down my cheeks. “Stop it, Ivan.”
He crosses to me in long strides, taking me by the back of the neck. His touch is not painful, but it is firm. “I’m not going to stop. Not until you’re begging me. Not until you’re so wrapped up you never even think about leaving me again.”
I stare into those pale eyes, wondering at the depth in them. Wondering at the heat.
Before I can figure anything out, he gives me a rough shove toward the bed. “Strip,” he says.
This is familiar ground. And so I walk this ground with a strut, giving him a little show as I tease down the shorts and my lacy tank top. You’d think a man would get bored with having seen my body—any woman’s body—so many times. But the repeat customers at the Grand prove otherwise. As do the icy flames in Ivan’s eyes.
“On the bed.” His voice is guttural now. He’s really pissed, and he’s going to fuck me to show just how much. I’m a little nervous. After all, I remember from my first time ho