ANASTASIA’S POV

The rim of my glass felt warm against my fingers as I swirled the last bit of my drink, watching the amber liquid catch the dim lights of the bar. Ivan was sitting across me with his arms folded, his sharp eyes watching me like I was a teenager sneaking alcohol.

I sighed, setting the glass down. “Could you not watch me like I’m a child?”

His lips twitched. “Just trying to see if you’re drunk yet.”

“I’ve only had one drink,” I said, arching a brow. “And you know damn well it takes more than that.”

He chuckled, deep and amused. “True.”

I rolled my eyes and...