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Ivan smiles and the soft curve of his lips paired with the square line of his jaw is almost enough for me to throw myself at him right here. Forget sneaking upstairs—we can do it on the porch.
But propriety and a little mercy for whoever on the security team is manning the cameras tonight wins out. I tuck away my inner freak and follow Ivan inside.
The house is dark and quiet. Usually, Jorden and Yasha put Matvei to bed and then post up in the den and watch movies. But I don’t hear a sound tonight.
“Maybe they are upstairs in his nursery?” I whisper.
Ivan nods like it’s a possibility, but his brows crease together. He tiptoes into the sitting room. When he finds it empty, he stands tall and spins around.
My chest tightens. “Is everything okay?”
“I’m going to call the security shack and see if they’ve heard—” A soft thud interrupts him and Ivan whips around. He’s staring at the closet in the hallway, every muscle in his body tense.
“Ivan?” I hiss.
“Go check on Matvei,” he orders. Then he inches towards the closet.
I’m suddenly terrified. Whatever is going on, I want to know that my baby boy is okay.
I pull out my phone and open the baby monitor app. The live feed loads up for three excruciating seconds before I see Matvei lying on his side in his crib, perfectly safe and asleep. His room is otherwise empty.
For the moment, he’s safe.
So I turn my attention back to Ivan and watch him glide across the room. My anxiety spikes higher with every step. I’m not armed, so I grab a key from the ceramic bowl on the foyer table and hold it between my knuckles like I’m Wolverine. It’s not much, but it’s better than nothing.
There’s another thud and clatter from inside the closet. It sounds like something falls off one of the shelves.
Ivan hesitates outside the door for just a second before he yanks it open. “Who the fuck are you and what are you doing in my—”
His voice is lost in a chorus of shrieking. One male, one female.
Then Ivan jumps back with a scowl twisting his face. “For fuck’s sake! Put your ass away, Yasha!”
My heart is hammering from the anxiety and the noise, but I storm into the sitting room. “What?”
The closet door is open and now, I can see exactly what Ivan was talking about.
Yasha’s bare ass is framed in the doorway. His pants are around his ankles. Also around his ankles… my best friend’s feet.
Jorden is pinned against the game shelf in a position that looks eerily similar to the one Ivan put me in on our wedding day.
“Don’t look!” She reaches over Yasha’s shoulder and tries to close the closet door, but she can’t reach. “Close the door, Yasha.”
“I’m a little busy here! If I close the door, Ivan is going to see a lot more than my ass.”
Even in the dim light, I can tell Jorden’s face is beet red. She meets my eyes and seems to wilt in embarrassment. “Oh. Hi, Cora.”
“Ivan, close the door,” I say. “Yasha and Jorden, get dressed and get out here.”
Ivan closes the door and then walks towards me, shaking his head. “So much for sneaking upstairs.”
“What the hell were they thinking?” I snap. A second later, I have the chance to ask the sexual delinquents themselves. “What the hell were you two thinking?”
Yasha is dressed, but his shirt is buttoned wrong and his hair is sticking up in every direction. Jorden looks fine except for her swollen lips and the beginning of a hickey on her neck.
“We were thinking it would be awkward for the two of you to come home and find us on the couch,” Yasha retorts. “We were being courteous.”
“‘Courteous’ would’ve involvednotgetting hot and heavy in a closet when you’re supposed to be babysitting,” Ivan rumbles.
