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I’d like to. If he keeps those teasing fingers moving up my thigh, everyone just on the other side of the wall of windows is going to get quite the show. And yet suddenly, I don’t give a damn.
I’m about to tell him that we haven’t had sex in this particular chair yet and that seems like a terrible mistake we should correct immediately, but before I can, his phone rings.
“I really don’t want to get that,” he murmurs against my lips.
I catch my breath. “And I really don’t want Niles to see me naked.”
Sighing, he answers and heads inside to take the call. I lie back in the chair with a dreamy exhale. If Jorden thought I looked dopey before, she wouldn’t know what to make of the smile on my face now.
When I hear the patio door open, I’m ready to get Ivan right back to where we were. Then I turn around and see his face.
When I do, I sit up and spin to face him. “What is it? What happened?”
He hasn’t even said anything and my heart is racing. Underneath my calm facade, I’ve been waiting for the other shoe to drop. And here it is. My little slice of paradise is going to be snatched away, I just know it.
“Nothing.” Ivan pulls me to my feet and guides me through a deep breath. “Everything is okay. You’re safe.”
I inhale and exhale slowly. “Okay. Then why do you look like that?”
“Because there’s someone here to see you.”
“It can’t be anyone good if you look like that,” I say softly.
“Jury is still out on that one,” a voice says from behind Ivan.
Afamiliarvoice.
It’s been over ten years since I’ve heard it. But it’s hard for a person to forget the voice of their own parent.
Ivan steps aside so I’m standing face to face with my father.
Marcus St. Clair raises one hand in a small wave. “Hi, Cordelia.”
44
CORA
“No.” I shake my head and spin around so I’m facing Ivan, my back to my father. “I’m not doing this.”
“I told you she wouldn’t be interested,” my father mumbles.
I hate that he’s talking to Ivan like they have some secret connection. I hate that he is here.
I hatehim.
I’m about to turn around and tell him all of that when Ivan puts a hand on the back of my neck. His touch is firm but gentle. “Hear his side of the story before you decide.”
“I know his story,” I hiss. “I know what he’s going to say.”
“Maybe. Maybe not.”
I frown. “Why do you care, Ivan? How do you know him?”
“I was desperate to find you. Yasha reached out to your dad and he met with us. He helped.”
My eyes go glassy. Not because my dad showed up to a meeting—that’s the literal least he could do for his only daughter. No, it’s because, while I was stuck in Alexander’s house, forced to play at marriage with Mikhail, Ivan was looking for me.
He never gave up.
