Prologue

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Prologue

The house was quiet—eerily so, except for the muffled strumming of a guitar and the soft thud of drums coming from the basement.

I let out a relieved breath. Good. That meant Ivan was still downstairs, busy with practice. Which gave me just enough time to dash into the kitchen, grab some water, and flee back to the safety of my room without running into him.

I tiptoed through the dim hallway, each step carefully measured, my heart thudding like I was sneaking out of a crime scene. Honestly, it felt like I was—though the only thing I was guilty of was trying not to run into Ivan.

I’d already made up my mind. I was going to avoid him at all costs, and I wasn’t about to break my own promise. But damn it, just thinking about him brought everything from yesterday flooding back in vivid, skin-tingling detail.

God. No matter how many times I swore to forget what happened in the garden, the memory clung to me like static. His lips on mine, the way his hands gripped my waist, the way my whole body betrayed me and melted into his touch... It was like my skin remembered even if my mind refused to.

I let out a long breath as I reached the kitchen counter and grabbed a glass, willing myself to shake the memory off. I had to forget it. I had to. I told myself earlier that I wouldn’t dwell on it anymore.

But here I am. The second his name crossed my mind, the memory followed right behind like a wave I couldn’t outrun.

Maybe I should just slam my head against the wall and hope for temporary amnesia. Maybe then I’d actually stand a chance of erasing it. Ugh. I honestly don’t know what to do with myself anymore.

And then, just as I was pouring myself a drink, a strong arm wrapped around my waist, pulling me back against a firm chest.

I froze.

The familiar scent of cedarwood mixed with sweat and something uniquely his filled my senses. I didn’t even need to turn around to know.

“Why are you sneaking around like a thief, hmm?” he murmured, his deep, amused voice tickling my ear.

Damn it. My body tense instantly.

“Let me go,” I hissed, trying to wiggle free, but his grip only tightened.

A low chuckle brushed against my ear, sending an involuntary shivers down my spine.

“Now, why would I do that?” he said, voice warm with amusement. “So you can run off again and avoid me like you’ve been doing all day?”

I clenched my jaw.

How the hell did he know I was avoiding him?

Damn it. I hated how easily he could read me. I hated how my body betrayed me—how my skin tingled, how my heart raced just from his voice alone. And more than anything, I hated the fact that I had no idea how to handle this—how to deal with him.

I exhaled sharply, trying to compose myself.

“I’m not avoiding you,” I lied, trying to keep my voice steady. “I just—”

“Liar,” Ivan cut me off as he spun me gently to face him.

His dark eyes locked onto mine, searching, challenging. “I literally just saw you tiptoeing through the hallway like you were pulling off a heist,” he said, cocking a brow. “Just admit it, you’ve been avoiding me all day.”

My breath caught.

He saw that?!

A wave of embarrassment crashed over me, and I suddenly couldn’t meet his gaze.

“I haven’t—”

“Yes, you have,” he cut in sharply, tilting his head as his eyes narrowed. “Tell me, Louela. Are you regretting what happened?”

I froze. The way he was looking at me, like he could see straight through me, made it impossible to lie. My throat tightened as I swallowed hard, my fingers trembling slightly around the glass.

I should say yes. I did regret it. Hell, I spent all night myself up for letting it happen. It was reckless. Inappropriate. Completely wrong on every level.

But no matter how much I willed myself to say it, the words refused to come out. Because deep down, I knew I didn’t regret it. And I hated myself for that.

His eyes darkened as the silence stretched between us. His grip on my waist tightened, pulling me flush against him. I sucked in a sharp breath, my hands instinctively pressing against his chest, but there was no real force behind it.

“I—” My voice came out shaky, and I hated that, too.

“You don’t regret it,” he murmured, his fingers trailing the curve of my neck, sending another wave of goosebumps across my skin. “Do you?”

“I... I don’t know,” I whispered.

Ivan clicked his tongue, his jaw tightening. “That won’t cut it, Lou.”

He tilted my chin up, forcing me to meet his gaze. His touch was gentle, too gentle, but his eyes held a quiet intensity that sent a dangerous thrill through me.

“You either regret it,” he said, his thumb brushing slowly over my lower lip in maddening, deliberate strokes, “or you don’t.”

“Because I don’t, Lou,” he added, his voice low, his eyes glinting with something raw and unfiltered.

My breath caught in my throat.

“I meant what I did,” he went on, his voice deepening into something dangerously soft, dangerously intoxicating. “Every second of it, Lou. Every touch, every kiss. I meant all of it.”

“And I’d do it again. You know I would.”

My heart thudded so loudly I was afraid he might hear it. I knew I should push him away. I should end this before it goes any further.

But God help me... I wasn’t sure I wanted to.

“Ivan,” I whispered, but it didn’t come out as a warning. It sounded more like surrender.

He smirked. That maddening, cocky smirk that always made my stomach twist. “See? You don’t even sound convincing.”

I opened my mouth to argue, to say something, anything—but then, footsteps echoed down the hallway.

I stiffened, panic flashing in my eyes. Someone was coming. But Ivan didn’t move. His smirk only deepened.

“Should we stay like this and let them see?” he whispered, eyes glinting, his fingers tightening around my waist. “I wouldn’t mind.”

I shot him a glare. “Are you crazy?” I hissed. “Let me go!”

He leaned in, his lips hovering just an inch from mine. His breath was warm against my skin. “Say you don’t regret it.”

My breathing was erratic. I wanted to push him away, but my traitorous hands clung to his arms instead. This was dangerous. He was dangerous.

And yet, some reckless part of me didn’t want him to let go. God. How could someone so much younger have this kind of pull on me?

The footsteps grew louder, closer. My heart beat even faster.

“Ivan,” I pleaded, my voice barely above a whisper.

He smirk deepened, as if the urgency in my tone amused him. But he finally—finally—loosened his grip. Just enough for me to step back.

I turned away quickly, gripping the counter for support, trying to calm my racing heart.

“This conversation isn’t over,” he said quietly before casually grabbing an apple from the fruit rack, as if he hadn’t just turned my world upside down.

I clenched my fists.

This summer was going to be hell.