Page 55 of The Pakhan's Kidnapped Bride
Sitting comfortably on the sofa next to him, we chat about the things I did this morning and the new books I got from the vintage boutique.
“I know that place. Many of the books in my library are from there. The old woman who runs it is very good at sourcing rare books.”
“She was really sweet,” I smile.
He bites into his wrap and chews, staring out of the window, across the city.
“Was everything okay earlier—on the phone? It sounded bad.”
He shakes his head, huffing in annoyance. “Honestly, sometimes the incompetence of people just blows my mind. I hired an extra team to ride in convoy with an important delivery of stock I had going off early this morning, and even with the extra guys, the delivery didn’t make it. I have to question whether or not someone on the inside was helping the attackers. It doesn’t make sense otherwise.”
“Did it cost you a lot?” I ask.
“In product, yes, it was over a million. But also, more frustratingly, I lost three men, three good men who have been working for me for many years. It’s a loss that sits deeper. Money we can always make again, but this is just—it sucks.” He sighs.
I’m shocked by how freely he’s answering me, providing a lot of detail without hesitation. My brother would talk about operations and attacks, and he’d let me know things that were going on in his business, but the stories were always guarded, keeping me safe from the gorier aspects, things that might leave me worried or afraid.
It annoyed me that he felt he had to protect me from the truth. I live in that world. I should know everything that’s going on. In fact, not telling me the details made it worse, because my imagination would fill in the blanks, and that would be more horrid than what really happened.
Emmanuil seems to understand the way my mind works. He understands me. He knows what he doesn’t need to protect me from.
“I’m sorry about your men,” I say gently, reaching out and placing my hand on his thick, muscular thigh. My fingers brush over his leg, and instantly, sparks shoot between us.
“Thanks,” he says. “I’ll need to put a care package together for their families today. I always make sure they are taken care of as best as they can be, but as I said—money can’t give them back the people they’ve lost.”
“It will help ease the burden, though,” I reassure him. “It’ll make their lives a little easier, and I’m sure they will appreciate the gesture.”
He turns to look at me, his eyes flooded with warmth. My heart tugs in my chest.I miss him.
“Will you go on a dinner date with me?” I blurt out.
His eyes narrow. “A dinnerdate,” he says slowly.
“Oh, um, I mean, dinner. Just dinner. Will you come to dinner with me?” I correct my words, knowing full well that I had wanted to call it a date, but that I meant to filter out that word before I asked.
“I would love to go to dinner with you,” he smirks, his eyes shining with mischief.
“Awesome. I’ll make all the arrangements. All you have to do is be ready at eight o’clock,” I say, excited.
“I’m looking forward to it.”
“I’ll get out of your way for now, then. Thanks for having lunch with me.” I gather the empty boxes and place them in the takeout bag.
“Leave it there, my assistant will come in and clean it up.” He chases me away from the mess and leads me towards the door.
Standing in the doorway, he looks down at me, and it seems as though he wants to ask me something. I wait, my heart rate increasing the longer I stare at him. My intrusive thoughts scream at me to kiss him, but I won’t. I wouldn’t dare.
“You’re welcome to stop by anytime, Anya. It was a wonderful surprise.”
At first, I think he’s teasing me, but he’s not. He means it.
A massive smile spreads across my lips.
“I’ll see you at dinner,” I say, tilting my head to the side.
“You look exquisite, kitten,” he says, whispering in my ear as he leans down to hug me goodbye. “I’ll see you tonight.”
It’s funny how one compliment can have my knees weak and my thoughts racing. One simple compliment from one specific, beautiful man.
