“I don’t know,” Ivan said after a moment, and it took Nix longer than it should have to realize he was answering Nix’s earlier question. “I suspect it is.”
Ivan was already turning away before Nix could say anythingin response. “Explore as you like. I’ll be in my office. Don’t interrupt.”
Once again Nixfound himself exploring a large, luxurious,emptyspace.
Seriously, what did Ivan have against a little decor here and there? Had his father used an interior decorator as the hit man when he’d had the mother killed? Had her bludgeoned with a painting? Ordered her suffocated with a throw pillow?
Okay, well, those were dark musings. But that was Ivan’s fault. If he’d had some fresh-cut flowers to lighten the place up, maybe Nix wouldn’t be quite so affected by the doom and gloom of it all.
The apartment was spacious but all one level. The living room housed a large pure-white couch—and there was no greater sign that someone didn’tusetheir couch than making it such an unforgiving color—across from a TV Nix couldn’t figure out the remote to. The kitchen was a chrome nightmare with all the modern appliances but no ingredients to use them for. The larger of the two bedrooms had a king-size bed that clearly hadn’t been slept in in days. And the presumed guest bedroom was perfectly made up, with guest toiletries that had never been opened.
It was like Ivan had paid top dollar for the best of the best and then never used any of it.
Nix could already guess the office Ivan had shut himself into was the most frequented room in the house.
Nix did have slightly better luck with the en suite bathroom attached to the larger bedroom. There was a shiny tub that had clearly rarely—if ever—been frequented, but the shower was where Nix found the source of Ivan’s scent. It wasn’t cologne, after all, but soap. A bar of soap with some Russian-sounding name and a peppery finish.
Nix sniffed at it, getting lost in a little fantasy of his handsome Vanya naked and soaped up in the shower.
But alas, Ivan was too hard at work for such things.
Nix returned the soap and wandered back over to the closed door of Ivan’s office, walking back and forth in front of it while he waited for his contract to get over his hissy fit.
The human hadn’t eaten any food, either, though he’d promised to. Naughty man.
Actually, Nix was feeling a bit peckish himself. The soul piece in his chest technically sustained him, but it had been an awfully long time since he’d had a proper dose of lust. Ivan’s little repressed tendrils hardly cut it, tasty as they were.
Nix needed some full-blown desire to sate his appetite.
Or maybe not needed but wanted.
Po-tay-to, po-tah-to.
His pacing in front of Ivan’s office door was interrupted by Ivan’s voice ringing out, clear even through the heavy wood. “Stop that.”
Nix stuck his tongue out at the door. “I’m not doing anything.”
“I can see the shadow of your feet moving in front of my door.”
“Oh, I’m sorry, are my ‘foot shadows’ bothering you?” Nix asked, as bitchy as could be.
But Ivan, impervious to sarcasm as well as hunger, only answered, in all apparent seriousness, “Yes.”
“Then can I come in?”
There was a pause, then a terse, “Fine.”
Nix didn’t wait for a retraction. He threw open the door and sauntered in, finding Ivan seated at an exact replica of his desk in the office, right down to the office chair he was seated in. The only difference was a lack of big old ledgers in front of him.
Nix cocked a hip against the desk. “What are you doing in here anyway?”
Ivan leaned back in his chair, pinching at the bridge of hisnose. “Getting things in order for Sascha and Kai’s rush on the Carusos tonight. I want men in place in case the remnants of the family try to retaliate. But my men can’t knowwhythey’re in place yet.”
“Because of your pesky mole,” Nix surmised.
“Precisely.”
It sounded like Ivan had things under control, so Nix changed the subject to where he wanted it. He gave Ivan an alluring pout. “I’m feeling peckish, master.”
