Book Ivan Mga Nobela at Kwento

His mental facilities must be deteriorating faster than his physical appearance if he thought I would do any of those things. “Sure you do,” I said indulgently. “Let’s see what this magical ‘something’ is first.” “Did I say ‘something’?” Ivan’s eyes glowed with malice. “I meant ‘someone.’ Bring them in.” He barked the last statement in Russian. There was a scuffle outside the door, and my blood ran cold when a massive man in camo pants and dog tags entered, dragging two bound and gagged girls behind him. Ava and Bridget.

“Don’t be. Don’t ever be.” He closed the door behind him, and I settled my cheek against the pillow. I looked at the TV without really seeing it. I stared blindly until my eyelids grew heavy and I gave in to the lull of sleep. ********* ************** ***************** The bed creaked next to me. I forced my eyes open and rolled over to see Ivan crawling into bed. He turned the television off with the remote and lied down, only seeing that I’d noticed him when he turned. “Come here, baby girl,” he said in a low voice, pulling me into him.

I said, shaking my head at the thought “I just don’t know. Things just feel too wrong, and more messed up than I want to think” “Well, one thing that I know for sure” Ivan said, getting up from his chair. He stood behind me, putting his hands on my shoulders as he squeezed them gently “my brother is not the type to give up to a few bastards; therefore, I wouldn’t have expected you to let things go if you wanted to”

This was the bookworm's dream. Ivan was sleeping on a couch with a book in his hand. He must've fallen asleep reading. I took the book off of his hand. He twitched a little but didn't wake up. Some strands of hair fell on top of his eyes as it was unbrushed and messy. Someone needs to get a haircut soon. I smiled. He looked kind of cute with his messy long hair. I brushed some of the strands away from his eyes. His hair felt silky and soft. He looked like a goddamn prince with his eyes closed.

The usual stuff, before I retrieved my undead brain cells and finally decided to sleep here. As much as cheerful Ann was, I didn't think she'd be amused if I said that. So I said instead, "I- I'm fine. Is he at home?" She eyed me suspiciously, the vacuum still humming beautifully. "No. Ivan left hours ago–" I would say it took me all my willpower to not sigh in relief when she said this "–To do something important, he said. That man really should stop working too hard," she mumbled the last part to herself. She didn't let me reply as she continued, "You look famished. Breakfast has been prepared since nine. I'll get it all warm and ready for consumption."

Eric has a paper hide behind his back and he was biting his own lower lip in nervousness. Meanwhile Ivan was sleeping peacefully on his bed, after a long hours of working hard he got the time to sleep and now he is sleeping without any care of the world, his company. His arm stretched to find someone special but the side of his bed was empty, which made him realise that today, his queen went to see his kingdom. He stirred in sleep when he heard a familiar voice calling him Brother. " Brother," recognizing the voice. Ivan opened his eyes and found his wife's 11 years old Baby brother looking at him with his doe eyes.

Fucking Ivan. I’d known him for years. The bastard rose through the Bratva ranks carving a path of bodies and broken deals. Ruthless didn’t even begin to cover it. He’d burned entire warehouses just to send a message, slit throats over minor insults, and once fed a man his own fingers for touching one of his shipments. Ivan was a cold, calculative bastard, and always smiling while he did it. But what really fueled the fire between us was simpler: Ivan had made it his personal mission to take whatever belonged to me.

That was how we got to know each other. Ivan was a consultant for an international organization in Grandavia, based in Mitzerland. He liked browsing old bookstores and exhibitions in his free time. He wasn't much of a talkative person, but when he talked about art and Yeropean history, he could keep going on for a long time. We would occasionally meet up for coffee, and soon, we began going to the bookstore regularly every week. I felt at ease whenever I was with him. He never asked about my past and wasn't awkward about my silence. We would sit by the lake, each absorbed in our own books, for the entire afternoon without needing to find any topics to talk about on purpose.

I screamed as I ran up the stairs, “The only person permitted to scream my name, is my girlfriend “ came Ivan’s reply as he shifted his gaze from the p**n magazine in his hand. It always amazed me how he read that with no shame, not like I didn't have mine stuffed under my bed, but they were there for a reason. “ I see you still have jokes,” I said, giving him the fakest smile I could muster. Ivan has to be the corniest person I know, but he's however the only person who would possibly have answers to what I was going to ask, just had to be him. “Tell me about the Igors, I say “ he considers me for a while then replies, “You are not their type”, my face reddened with anger, I didn't care mu

“Hope. Want. And something darker. Loneliness, maybe.” “What about you?” Ivan asked. “What do you smell like?” “I don’t know. Wolves can’t smell themselves clearly.” “Then let me tell you.” Ivan stood, moving slowly, carefully, like he was approaching a wild animal. Which, I supposed, he was. He stopped in front of my chair, close enough to touch but not touching. “You smell like pine and leather. Something wild underneath. And right now…” He leaned down, his face inches from mine. “Right now you smell like you’re barely holding on.”