Chapter 4 Unexpected Moments

Ivan's POV

It pissed me off how much she hated me. She made it so obvious, like every word out of her mouth was laced with venom. And honestly, I hated how much it affected me.

I couldn't care less if she disliked me or not. But for some reason, her anger gnawed at me, and I hated it. It gnawed at me because I knew I'd done nothing but push her away for years.

It wasn't like I ever gave her a reason to like me. But it was different now. Things were changing, and I wasn't sure if it was for better or worse.

We had to work together. I didn't want to admit it, but I needed her for this mission. The Moretti family needed her too, and she wasn't going to escape this game, even if she tried.

The plane touched down in Las Vegas, the city of excess. I could smell the heat and the urgency of the place even from the airport. The bright lights, the neon signs, the fake smiles-it all made me feel at home.

But there was no time for pleasure. Not for me, at least.

We headed to a private hotel on the edge of the Strip, away from prying eyes. The moment we stepped into the suite, Adriana immediately headed for the kitchen.

I watched her walk past me, the determined look on her face betraying the anger still boiling beneath the surface. She hadn't even glanced in my direction since we got off the plane. And I didn't blame her.

I sat down on one of the leather chairs by the window, my hands folded in front of me. I didn't need to keep an eye on her; I could feel her in the room, even when I wasn't looking at her.

There was something about her-something about her presence-that always seemed to pull me in. And it wasn't just because we were now tied to this ridiculous marriage contract.

I tried to focus on the mission. I tried to focus on the job we had ahead of us. But somehow, my attention kept drifting back to her.

She was moving around in the kitchen, her movements stiff but determined. For a moment, I wondered if she was doing it to distract herself from whatever emotions she was trying to bury.

But then, I heard a sharp gasp.

I turned just in time to see her clutching her hand, a grimace of pain on her face.

"Shit," she cursed under her breath.

I stood up instinctively, but she yanked her hand away, the stubborn defiance in her eyes sharper than ever.

"I'm fine," she snapped, her voice tight, but it wasn't convincing.

I could already see the small cut on her palm, and the sight of it sent a strange tightness to my chest. The last thing I wanted was for her to hurt herself, even if I had no right to care.

"You're not fine," I said, my tone more irritated than concerned. "Let me help you."

She pulled her hand back again, glaring at me as if I'd personally insulted her.

"I don't need your help, Ivan," she spat, and I could hear the disgust in her voice.

I was about to say something, but the words caught in my throat. She was so damn proud, and I hated it. I hated how she pushed me away. But at the same time, I couldn't bring myself to just walk away.

"You're being stubborn," I muttered under my breath.

But she didn't care. She reached for a towel, trying to clean the wound, but I could see the blood starting to stain the fabric.

"Adriana," I said, taking a step toward her. "Let me help you before it gets worse."

She looked at me like I had two heads. "I said no, Ivan. I don't need you hovering over me like some...some knight in shining armor."

I felt a twist in my gut, something raw and uninvited. I was doing this because it was the right thing to do, not because I wanted her to feel anything for me. But part of me still wanted her to stop pushing me away.

Without waiting for her permission, I grabbed her hand gently, ignoring the tension in her eyes. She didn't pull away this time. Maybe because she was too shocked to react, or maybe because, for once, I wasn't giving her a choice.

I led her to the small couch in the sitting area and gently sat her down. Her eyes burned with that fiery anger, but beneath it, there was something else-something I couldn't quite place.

"You're impossible," she muttered, but there was no real heat in her words anymore.

I grabbed the first aid kit from the counter, my fingers fumbling as I prepared to clean the cut. Adriana didn't look at me, but I could feel her eyes on the side of my face, studying me, watching me. The silence between us grew heavier by the second.

"I'm not some helpless little girl, Ivan," she said softly, as I dabbed at the wound. Her voice was quieter now, almost too quiet.

I glanced at her, meeting her gaze for the first time since the plane. She wasn't angry now, just...vulnerable, for a moment. The realization hit me hard, like a punch to the gut. I couldn't remember the last time I'd seen her like this-so human, so raw.

"I know you're not," I said quietly, surprised by the sincerity in my voice. I was so used to pushing people away, to pushing her away. But at that moment, I didn't want to do that.

She opened her mouth to say something, but then-thankfully-Missi barged in, her loud voice cutting through the tension.

"What the hell are you two doing?" Missi demanded, her hands on her hips as she surveyed the scene. "I leave you two alone for two minutes, and now it looks like you're playing house."

I let out a sigh of relief, stepping back from Adriana's hand, and she instantly snatched it away, glaring at me like I'd done something wrong.

"Nothing happened," I said quickly, wiping my hands on a towel, trying to calm the awkwardness.

Adriana's lips tightened, and she stood up, muttering something under her breath.

"Good," Missi said, raising an eyebrow, still giving us both a disbelieving look. "But don't think I didn't notice the tension between you two."

Adriana shot Missi a death glare, but I could feel her heart racing from where I stood. I knew she felt it too. Whatever this was between us, it wasn't just the usual hate. It was something more complicated-something far messier.

"Get over it, Missi," Adriana snapped, her voice sharp. "Let's focus on the job."

But even as she said it, I could see the flicker of something in her eyes-a confusion, maybe. She didn't know what this was, either. And neither did I.

But one thing was for sure: we were both in this together. And no matter how much we hated it, there was no turning back now.