Chapter 9 A Kiss in the Crossfire

Adriana's POV

Antonio's words from earlier haunted me, clinging to the back of my mind like smoke.

"Your mother died because of the Petrov name, Adriana. Remember that."

I clutched my clutch tighter, my fingers digging into the embroidered leather.

Ivan's father. Petrov Sr. Had he really orchestrated it?

Was the man I'd just married tied even deeper to my mother's death than I thought?

I shouldn't be standing here.

I shouldn't be wearing this red silk dress that Ivan picked because it made me look like "a woman no one could touch."

I shouldn't be pretending, smiling politely at guests, while inside me, a storm was tearing through every bone in my body.

My heels clicked sharply against the marble floor as I slipped away from the crowd, needing air, needing space-needing distance from him.

I barely noticed the hallway growing darker, the music fading into a muffled hum behind me.

The further I walked, the tighter the knot in my stomach grew.

I should have turned back.

I should have listened to that little whisper in the back of my mind.

But I didn't.

Instead, I kept walking straight toward the shadows.

"Adriana."

Ivan's voice snapped like a whip through the heavy air.

I spun around, breath catching in my throat.

He was already there, striding toward me, tension written in every hard line of his body. His black suit hugged him like armor, but his eyes-his cold, dangerous eyes-weren't frozen anymore. They burned.

"What the hell are you doing?" he growled.

I blinked. "Getting some air."

He shook his head sharply, scanning the corridor around us. His hand brushed against the gun holstered under his jacket.

It wasn't a casual gesture.

It was a warning.

"Stay close to the ballroom. This area isn't secure."

I lifted my chin stubbornly. "I don't need a babysitter."

Ivan cursed under his breath in Russian, stepping closer. "You don't know what you're walking into."

"Maybe I don't care."

The words came out sharper than I meant, slicing the thick air between us.

For a second, he stared at me like he could see every raw, broken piece I tried to hide.

And then I saw it-out of the corner of my eye.

A shadow, shifting down the hallway.

Someone moving, too fast, too quiet.

I barely had time to react.

Ivan did.

He closed the distance between us in a heartbeat.

One hand gripped my wrist, pulling me flush against his chest.

The other cupped the back of my head, holding me still.

And then-

His mouth crashed against mine.

The world tilted.

Shock pinned me in place as his lips moved urgently over mine.

This wasn't a gentle kiss.

It was fierce. Possessive.

A warning and a promise all in one.

I stiffened for a split second, instinct screaming to shove him away.

But then-

I tasted something I wasn't ready for.

Heat.

Fear.

Something desperate and broken that matched the storm inside me.

My hands fisted in his jacket without thinking, and for one dangerous moment, I kissed him back.

The footsteps passed behind us.

Whoever it was moved on, seeing nothing but two lovers tangled together in the shadows.

Only when the air stilled again did Ivan pull away, his forehead resting against mine.

His breathing was ragged.

Mine wasn't any better.

I stared up at him, heart pounding so loud it drowned out everything else.

"You..." I whispered, but the words crumbled in my throat.

He didn't let go.

He just kept holding me there like he was trying to convince himself I was real.

"There was a trap," he said roughly.

"Set for you. Antonio led you right toward it."

My stomach twisted.

Antonio.

He'd warned me about Ivan.

Had he really cared about me?

Or had he wanted me to walk straight into an ambush?

"You kissed me to hide me," I said numbly.

Ivan's lips twisted into a grim smile. "Would you rather I let them shoot you?"

I jerked back, heat flushing my cheeks, anger and humiliation tangling in my chest.

I slapped him hard across the face.

The sound cracked through the empty hall.

Ivan barely flinched.

He just looked at me, his jaw tight, his eyes colder than winter.

"You don't get to make choices for me," I hissed.

"And you don't get to die on my watch," he bit back.

We stared at each other, breathing hard, the space between us vibrating with tension.

Everything hurt.

Everything burned.

God, I hated him.

I hated the way he made me feel things I didn't want.

I hated the way his kiss still lingered on my lips, wild and rough and impossibly tender.

I hated that part of me had wanted it.

I turned away, blinking hard against the sting in my eyes.

"Stay close to me for the rest of the night," Ivan said behind me, his voice rough with something I couldn't name.

"I'm not your responsibility," I said.

"No," he agreed.

"But you're mine now anyway."

I didn't have the strength to argue.

Not when the ghosts of his touch still clung to my skin.

Not when every part of me still buzzed from that kiss I shouldn't have wanted.

I forced myself to walk back toward the ballroom, my heels clicking against the marble, my head held high.

But inside, everything was crumbling.

Because no matter how much I hated him, no matter how much I wanted to blame him for everything-

That kiss had changed something between us.

And there was no going back.