Page 85 of The Pakhan's Kidnapped Bride
We both stand. There isn’t anything more to say. The air between us is clear, the past is in the past, and we’ll work together in the future. Kris holds out his hand to shake mine.
“It’s good to meet you, Emmanuil.” He smiles, and I understand what he means. To meet me without the stories, without the misunderstandings. The real me.
He lets go of my hand and turns to leave, but turns back, a smile on his face. “And for the record—Anya loves you. I mean, he really loves you. I saw the state she was in when she left you years ago. She was broken back then. Even when I wanted to kill you years ago, when I thought you’d hurt her, she stood up for you. And I’ve only seen that fierceness in her eyes one other time—yesterday, when she stood up to me when I wanted to shoot you. It’s the reason I listened. She has a terrible poker face, that girl. She wears her heart on her sleeve.”
His words have me smiling.
“She really does have a terrible poker face,” I chuckle.
“Take care of my sister, Emmanuil. We’ll talk soon.”
Kristopher leaves my office, and as promised, I call Anya right away. I gave her a very brief overview that things went well. She’s upset when I tell her I’m on my way home and I’ll give her all the information in person when I get there.
“But I want to know now,” she moans, making me laugh.
“I’m ten minutes away, I’m sure you can wait.”
“But I’ve waited all day,” she huffs.
As soon as I park the car, Anya is at my door, pulling it open.
“Tell me everything,” she demands. I climb out and pull her into my arms, smiling. I wrap my hand around her jaw and tilt her face towards mine. Her eyes are fierce, and it makes me think about what her brother said. She loves me. Even he can see it.
“You’re beautiful, kitten. The most beautiful girl in every universe,” I grin.
“Stop trying to charm me and tell me what—"
I press my lips into hers and kiss her with passion. She moans against my lips as I turn her and push her body against the car. I pull her close, my fingers digging into her softness, holding onto her with relief and happiness, my heart flooded with both.
She threads her fingers up the back of my neck and into my hair, knotting them, pulling my hair tightly.
By the end of the kiss, we’re both breathing heavily, our hearts racing.
Her cheeks are flushed bright pink, and her lips are swollen.
“Okay, take me inside and make love to me,” she whispers. “But then you have to tell me everything.”
Without hesitation, I lift her in my arms and carry her into our home, into our bedroom, throwing her down onto our bed.
We make love all afternoon, celebrating our freedom to be together and the fact that we can have a future. Afterwards, Anya lies on my chest and I tell her everything that happened in the meeting.
She’s horrified, surprised, hurt for me, ashamed of her father—but in the end, she is happy.
“So, our families are allied?” she asks, tracing her fingers over my chest, her beautiful, big eyes staring up at me.
“Despite your father’s expected disapproval, yes. Your brother has assured me he has a plan to take full control soon. And I’ve given him my word that he has my full support. But you can’t go home until that happens. It’s too much of a risk.”
“I can’t go home?” she whispers, knitting her brows. My heart hurts for her. Maybe she won’t agree to this.
“It’s temporary, Anya,” I reassure her, stroking her hair.
She’s quiet for a long moment while I wait, tense, for her response.
Finally, she shares her thoughts.
“This is my home, Em. With you. Wherever you are.” She smiles. “And I’ll agree to anything that lets me be with you.” Her eyes shine as she looks at me.
“Together.” I smile, touching her cheek.
