“Is it that bad? Does it make me look fat?”
Growling, I send a hand into her hair and yank her against me. I hate that she cut it, but she loves it so I won’t complain. “You’re too fucking sexy. Quit using that damn word.”
She smiles, damn it.
“You’re wearing makeup. You don’t cover your body up enough, but you cover up your beautiful face. At nine you get a headache, or I’m carrying you upstairs without a single apology.”
Her laughter grazes over my skin, hardening my cock. I lick the base of her throat, then nip and suck to make sure I mark her as mine.
“You’re an animal.” She groans, but the hands in my hair aren’t pulling me away.
“Say it like it’s a bad thing, I dare you.” God, I need to get her downstairs before I take her back to bed.
I’m satisfied Mishka will not be here tonight, but I’m not so happy she will still attend both ceremonies. Aarti apologized that with so many family members traveling from India, his parents were too proud to be honest about their daughter’s actions.
However, his sister will be traveling back with his grandparents to India, where she will be spending the summer. Her parents had been shocked and embarrassed by my call last night, it might have been because it was almost midnight. They swore Mishka would be on her best behavior for the day of the wedding and they’d keep her far from me and Christina. It will have to do.
As the night goes on, it is not nearly as trying as I believed it would be. Aari’s parents are making an effort to be nice to Gemma. No one mentions Mum, thank fuck for the whole polite restraint of Brits. Aari’s parents know, to everyone else she’s out of the country, and no one questions further because it would be uncouth to do so.
Christina is having a good time huddled with Hannah. I am not surprised she and Hannah have become fast friends, they are much alike. Hannah has also been missing the closeness she and Gemma once shared. They have grown apart in the last year as Gemma and Aari’s relationship developed. It was likely the reason she grew close with Mishka.
I check the time. Almost eight thirty. I look up and Christina’s eyes are on me. She gives me a cheeky grin. Good girl, she will get the best damn reward.
Even better, she puts her hand to her head as she frowns. Perfect, so damn perfect. By the time I cross to her, Hannah is glaring at me.
“Ivan, you need to take better care of her. Keeping her up till all hours. The poor thing is exhausted. Let her get some rest, why don’t you, you letch.”
Drawing Christina close, I nod contritely. “You’re right. I’m going to put her to bed and get some work in. Have an early night.”
With a hug from Gemma and Hannah, Christina keeps her sad face in place and apologizes for the third time as I steer her toward the stairs.
Once we’re on the landing, she drops the act and giggles as I pull her close. “You deserve an Oscar for all that.”
“I’m following orders. You promised. An early night.”
“I did promise, and I keep my promises.”
“I’m counting on it.”
***
Christina
The week flies by in a flash. Ivan and I spend another day in bed, tucked away in the room until it happens, and it’s clear there are no repercussions from the whole no-condom thing. Ivan is oddly disappointed, I think, or maybe it’s the whole no-sex thing for a week. Weirdly, though, the whole no-sex thing isn’t the crushing blow to our relationship that I feared it would be.
Neither of us is willing to put up with having each other even kind of naked, if he was going to make me wear not just a top but the bottoms of pajamas, then he
did too. Like I was really going to keep my hands off his hard chest when it was bare to me. I had begged more times than I would ever admit to a soul to take him in my mouth, but he refused. If I couldn’t have release, neither would he.
We spend several days roaming through Manchester in between large parties where I’m grateful for the new clothes I have. While some of the women are wearing saris, most of them are in designer labels. During our walks, he finally tells me about how he grew up as he takes me past his old homes. There had been several because they kept getting kicked out.
He tells me everything, from the very beginning, how he and his mother came to England. His father was a high-ranking official in the Russian Army who had been murdered before he could defect to England with secrets. The government held up their deal and granted Ivan and his mother asylum; Ivan was only five years old when they arrived in Manchester. When they first got here things weren’t so bad, but three years later she met a man, and things went downhill fast.
His mother received benefits but rarely used them to buy food—often it went to alcohol or cigarettes for her and the boyfriend. Within a year his mother had Gemma, and only another year passed before she had Hannah. Ivan described taking care of his sisters, feeding and changing their diapers. How he would come home from school to find they weren’t taken care of at all. The way he started trying to hire himself as an errand boy to the elderly in the area to get groceries, do housework or yardwork, anything he could to make money.
We’re on another walk when we stop outside a detached brick house, which I’m finding is a big deal here. “This was her house. The woman I told you about with the posh accent. I spent a lot of time here. She let me bring Gemma and Hannah round to keep an eye on them while I worked. Her goal was to spoil them rotten every visit. A few times her son was here too, Phillip, and for some reason he liked me.”
“Hmm, a kid who was working his ass off to take care of his little sisters, and did it while being nice to an old lady. I can’t imagine why.”