What did he do? He shrugged, tightness all over his shoulders and arms through the T-shirt he had on. “Choose, baby. Me or your brothers.”

What in the hell? “No!”

“Yes!” he shouted back.

What the hell was happening? “No!”

He watched me, eerily still, barely breathing if he even was, before shrugging. “Fine.”

And then he held up my phone. By the time I realized what he was doing, it was too late for me to snatch it back. I still rushed toward him anyway.

“Ivan!” I yelled, getting up to my tippy-toes as he stood and held it straight over his head, so tall I wasn’t even close to reaching.

“You got three seconds, you hardheaded ass. Three seconds or I’m calling them, and if you kick me in the balls, I’ll call all of them.”

He would. He definitely would.

Idiot. Idiot. Idiot. Fuck.

Gritting my teeth, I held back the yell I really wanted to give him and spat, “Fine. Fine.” Dickhead. Ugh.

“What’s it going to be?” he snapped, sounding maybe even angrier than me, if I thought about it.

But I didn’t.

I held back the middle finger I wanted to give him and groaned, “You, ass. I’ll stay with you.” There was no way I’d stay with either of my brothers if I could help it. And just like that, I got mad all over again. “This is bullshit.”

He snorted angrily. “Yeah, it’s real bullshit that I give a shit about you. Suck it up and get your things, you’ve got a lot of explaining to do and you need to pack. I’m so mad at you, I don’t want to look at you.”

I could have fought him over it. Well, I could have tried. But if there was one thing in the world I’d learned over the last few months: Ivan wasn’t the kind of man who didn’t live up to his words. And if there was one other thing I’d learned over the course of that period too, it was that if I didn’t agree to whatever bullshit he was threatening me with, I would probably regret it.

And luckily for him—and unluckily for me—both times I had spent the night at Jonathan and James’ place, I’d learned that their walls were thin. Too thin. And apparently, James had a giant dick.

So, yeah, no thanks. I loved my brother and James, but there was some shit in the world, I just didn’t need to know. Nope.

As for Sebastian, if he were to find out about the mail, I would never hear the end of it. Dealing with Ivan was one thing, but Jojo would call Tali and call Seb, and then I’d have three people breathing down my neck, calling me a fucking moron for keeping a secret.

No thanks.

I was going to have to go with the lesser evil… Ivan who was probably more evil than both my brothers, but definitely wasn’t as evil as both my brothers and Tali.

Damn it.

“This is so damn stupid,” I grumbled.

My partner shrugged, totally and completely unapologetic. “What’s stupid is you not telling anyone about this. Get to packing, Meatball.”

I whispered, “Dick,” loud enough for him to hear.

If he did—and he had to—his face didn’t register it. More than likely though, he just didn’t give a shit. God. Was this what dealing with me was like?

Turning my back to the man standing right by my bed, I opened my closet to grab one of my bags. Going up to the tips of my toes, I tried to reach for it but couldn’t. Without looking at Ivan again, I left my room and went to the hallway closet to grab the step stool from inside.

But by the time I made it back to my room, the bag I’d been reaching for had been set on my bed.

And Ivan was back to sitting on the mattress, facing the wall and staring at it with an expression so tight, the bones along his jaw had never looked more visible.

Fine. If he didn’t want to talk to me, that wouldn’t bother me at all. I didn’t exactly want to talk to him either.

Sure, I hadn’t been crazy about staying home alone to begin with while I was sick—I wasn’t that stupid—but did he have to boss me around?

Neither one of us said a word as I pretty much grabbed anything that was black or white and stuffed it into my bag, making sure I packed a work uniform with me, just in case. Because just like taking time off to train, I couldn’t take time off from work either. It didn’t take me more than ten minutes to grab my clothes and toiletries and shove them all in my bag. Then I grabbed another set of clothes, threw them on, and slid into some flip-flops.

“Ready,” I muttered, eyeing the man who hadn’t moved from his spot on my bed.

He got up, still not looking at me, and walked right out of my room, pretending like he didn’t see me.

Bitch.

I followed behind, flicking off the lights with a frustrated sigh. It was awkward and quiet, with Ivan going straight down the pathway while I set the alarm and locked the front door. How had I been so stupid to leave that crap in my nightstand? And why the hell did he have to go through my things anyway?

Damn it.

Damn it.

My head was pounding all over again, and I was back to being nauseous. I took my time turning around, and then sighed again as I did, looking for Ivan’s car. I found Ivan.

But I didn’t find his car.

Instead, he was standing beside a white minivan.

I blinked.

“You coming or are you going to make this difficult too?” he asked, his tone that shitty, condescending one.

I was too tired to hold up my middle finger, and I hoped he knew that. “Where’s your car?”

His hand sliced to the side. To the minivan. He raised his eyebrows while he did it.

I blinked again.

That hand he had aimed didn’t go anywhere.

“I’m serious.”

“I am too. It’s mine. Get in.”

It… that… was his?

I didn’t have anything against minivans. My mom had owned one back in the day before everyone but Rubes and I had moved out, but… Ivan? Why the fuck did Ivan have a minivan?

He couldn’t have had a kid. He’d specifically said he didn’t know what he was doing with Ruby’s babies. I had known his parents for a long time, and neither one of them owned a minivan either.

So….

“Today.”

I blinked and still didn’t move. “What is that?” I asked slowly.

He rolled his eyes and opened the door. “It’s a car.”

“Whose?”

Climbing inside of it, he replied, “Mine.”

“Why?”

Holding the door open, he answered, “It’s fuel efficient, low to the ground, and has a lot of room.” A flicker of a baby smile flashed across his face before it disappeared like he remembered that he was mad at me. “And it’s a Honda. Get in.”

He wasn’t the only one who forgot he was mad. “It’s… yours?”

“It’s mine,” he went on. “Get in. I’m not in the mood right now,” he demanded before slamming the door shut hard.

What the hell did he have to be in a bad mood over? Ugh.

The van purred lightly as it started, and before I had a chance to blink, the driver side window was being rolled down, and Ivan repeated himself. “Today.”

I scrunched up my nose and shot him a dirty look as I took in the Honda like it was some spaceship I had never seen before. Just as I opened my mouth to say something about him he couldn’t hear or respond to, something inside the minivan’s back window moved, and the next thing I knew, a brown head popped around the side… to rest on Ivan’s shoulder. Two big eyes blinked at me. And I lost all my words again.

Ivan didn’t even glance at the head on him before he flicked his fingers for me to come forward. “We’re not going streaking, and I’m not dumping your body anywhere. Not yet at least. Get in. Even Russell’s getting tired of waiting. They’ve been out here for half an hour waiting for you.”

I opened my mouth, closed it, and then opened it again to get out, “You have a dog?”

He nodded, and the dog’s head moved with his movement. “Russell. Come on. I’m not in the mood.”

Who the hell was this person? What the hell was this person? Ivan didn’t just have a dog but he had a goddamn minivan too? I’d only ever seen him in his Tesla. Not… that.

I wasn’t even positive I’d ever seen dog hair on his clothes before.

Had I?

“We don’t have all day. Get in before I put you in and someone calls the cops thinking I kidnapped you,” he threw out, pulling his glasses over his eyes, jerky and pissed off. “If you get in right now, I’ll think about forgiving you eventually.”

As if being totally aware of what Ivan was saying, the dog licked his cheek and stared back at me with eyes that I was pretty positive were a golden hazel.

And then I heard a shrill little yip come from somewhere else inside the van, and Ivan turned his upper body in the opposite direction to look in the back seat and say, “Not right now, Lacey. We already talked about this.” Then, like he hadn’t just been having a conversation with what may or may not be a small dog based on the pitch of the bark, he turned back to face me and raised his eyebrows. “Drama queen. You ready?”

Ready.

Was I ready?

To get in a minivan with him and two dogs. Two dogs that I didn’t know he had. One of those dogs that he talked to like he was arguing with a child. Both of them named human names.