Chapter 6 Old Flame

Adriana's POV

Ivan and I hadn't said much after making the truce.

We didn't need to.

There was a thin thread between us now - something raw, something fragile - and neither of us wanted to pull too hard on it.

At least, not yet.

I turned when I heard the front door open.

Ivan stepped inside, brushing water from his shoulders. His dark hair was damp, sticking slightly to his forehead. His black jacket clung to his broad frame.

I hated how my heart stuttered in my chest when I looked at him.

He looked up and caught me staring.

Something flickered in his eyes - heat, maybe - before he shoved it down.

Before I could say anything, another figure stepped through the doorway behind him.

A woman.

She peeled off her hood with a graceful flick of her wrist, revealing sleek black hair that spilled like ink down her back.

She was stunning.

Sharp cheekbones, full lips, almond-shaped eyes lined with dark lashes.

Her clothes clung to her like a second skin - tailored, expensive, effortless.

My stomach twisted the second Ivan turned toward her.

And smiled.

Not the cold, practiced smile he gave everyone else.

No, this one was softer. Familiar.

Like he'd smiled at her a thousand times before.

The woman crossed the room with a confidence that made me feel clumsy just standing there.

She didn't spare me more than a glance.

Her entire focus was on Ivan.

"Ivan," she breathed, her voice low and rich, the kind of voice that made you lean in without even realizing it.

He stepped toward her instinctively, like a reflex he couldn't control.

"Natsumi," he said.

Natsumi.

The name hit me like a slap.

This was her.

The ex-fiancée.

The woman he almost married.

I straightened my spine, trying to pretend my hands weren't curling into fists at my sides.

Ivan and Natsumi stood there for a moment, just looking at each other.

Saying a thousand things without speaking a single word.

The air in the room tightened, heavy and hot.

Finally, Ivan turned away - almost reluctantly - and gestured toward me.

"This is Adriana," he said.

His voice was rougher now. More guarded.

Natsumi finally gave me a real look.

It wasn't hostile.

It was worse.

It was pity.

"You're the new wife," she said, her lips curving into a sad little smile.

I bristled. "And you're the old one."

Ivan shot me a warning glance, but I didn't care.

I didn't like the way Natsumi looked at him, like she still had a claim.

And I really didn't like the way he looked back at her, like some part of him still remembered what it felt like to belong to her.

"We need to talk," Natsumi said, her voice dropping.

"Now," Ivan agreed, barely glancing at me.

I stood there, feeling like an intruder in my own life as they moved toward the kitchen.

I could hear their voices, low and urgent, but not the words.

Every time Ivan leaned in close, my chest tightened.

Every time Natsumi touched his arm, something ugly clawed at my insides.

I knew I shouldn't care.

This was a marriage of convenience.

A business deal wrapped in blood and betrayal.

But watching him with her - seeing the way his defenses crumbled around her - felt like being carved open from the inside out.

After what felt like an hour, Ivan returned.

His face was unreadable.

Natsumi followed a step behind him, her eyes glittering with something I didn't understand.

"We need to talk," Ivan said, but this time he was looking at me.

I folded my arms, lifting my chin. "About what? How cozy you two still are?"

A muscle ticked in his jaw. "It's not what you think."

"Really? Because from where I'm standing, it looks pretty damn familiar."

Natsumi stepped forward, her voice calm, like she was used to smoothing over disasters.

"Ivan and I were forced apart," she said. "By people who wanted to control both of us. We didn't walk away by choice."

I clenched my fists harder.

"So what? Now you've come back to pick up where you left off?"

Natsumi shook her head.

"You don't understand," she said. "I came here because you're both in danger."

I laughed, sharp and brittle. "You think I'm stupid?"

"I think you're in over your head," she said gently.

Ivan's hand brushed against my back - the faintest touch - grounding me before I said something I couldn't take back.

"Explain," he said to Natsumi, his voice rough.

She sighed and pulled a small drive from the inside of her coat.

"This contains information you need," she said. "About the people really pulling the strings. The ones who wanted you to marry, Ivan. The ones who staged the attack on your wedding night."

I stared at her, stunned.

"What are you talking about?"

Natsumi looked at me - really looked - for the first time.

"You're not the enemy, Adriana," she said quietly. "You're the bait."

The room seemed to tilt sideways.

I grabbed the edge of the table to steady myself.

"Bait for who?" I demanded.

Natsumi hesitated.

Her eyes flicked to Ivan.

"For everyone who thinks the Petrov empire needs to fall," she said finally.

"And me?" I whispered. "What happens to me?"

Natsumi's face softened. "That depends on Ivan."

I turned to look at him.

His jaw was clenched so tightly it looked painful. His fists were shoved deep into his pockets.

But when his eyes met mine, there was something fierce there.

Something that wasn't there when he looked at her.

"You're not going anywhere," he said.

And for the first time, I didn't know if that was a promise or a threat.

Maybe it was both.

Natsumi lingered a moment longer, her gaze flickering between us.

There was sadness there.

And something like regret.

She touched Ivan's arm once - just once - before turning and walking out into the storm.

The door slammed shut behind her.

The silence that followed was deafening.

Ivan didn't move.

Neither did I.

Finally, I broke it.

"You still love her," I said.

It wasn't a question.

His shoulders stiffened.

"I don't owe you an explanation," he said without looking at me.

"Maybe not," I said. "But I deserve the truth."

He turned then, his eyes dark and full of war.

"I loved her," he said. "I'm not going to stand here and lie about it."

The words hit harder than I wanted them to.

"And now?" I asked, my voice cracking.

His gaze dropped to my mouth, lingering there for a long, dangerous moment.

Then he shook his head.

"Now," he said roughly, "it doesn't matter."

I opened my mouth to argue - to demand more - but he was already walking away.

Leaving me standing there.

Breathless.

Shaking.

Alone.

Outside, the storm raged on.

And inside, something even wilder burned in my chest - something I didn't have a name for yet.

But I had a feeling I would soon.