Page 15 of The Pakhan's Kidnapped Bride
Katya insists on taking us all to lunch at her favorite cocktail bar, where we sit on the top floor of the mall, overlooking the city while sipping bright orange cocktails.
Katya flicks through her phone, replying to some messages while Kira and I talk about what she likes to do when they visit the city.
“You have to come with us, though. Are you busy while you’re here? How long are you staying?” she asks, and the questions immediately make me tense again.
“I’m not sure how long I’m staying, but I would love to see you guys again. I’ve had so much fun.”
“Well, where’s your phone? I’ll give you my number.” She holds out her hand.
I pretend to pat my pocket in search of the phone I know I don’t have because Emmanuil took it away from me.
“I left it at the mansion. But I can ask Emmanuil for your number when I see him tonight. Then I’ll message you and you can have mine, too.”
“Perfect. Don’t forget, though,” she says sternly. “It’s not often you meet someone who you instantly know is going to be a lifelong friend.”
My heart warms at her words, and a thread of guilt streaks through me. I wish I could have them as lifelong friends—although even when this is all over, there’s no reason why I can’t stay in touch with them.
One thing at a time, Anya. You’re a prisoner at the moment, held hostage by threats against your family. Perhaps you should be more focused on that?
After cocktails and hardly any real food for lunch, my head is bubbly and relaxed, and I realize this is exactly whatI needed after being locked away in that mansion, hiding from Emmanuil for three days.
We head back into the mall in search of a dress Kira saw and decided she did want after all. We’re all giggling, and it feels like I’m on vacation with them.
Chapter 5 - Emmanuil
Despite the fact that I didn’t have a lot to do in the office—not things that required me to be there—I stayed late, anyway.
I needed a break from Anya. Even though we’ve managed to avoid each other for the most part, just knowing she’s there, in the same house, in the next room, humming quietly in the kitchen, showering, sleeping, being—it’s driving me crazy.
I had her bedroom rearranged with things in her size. I don’t know why I ordered her the perfume. There have been so many moments in the past five years when I’ve seen it in a store window, or in the pages of a magazine. There have been so many times when I’ve wanted to lift the lid off and inhale the scent. But I never did. I knew it would be devastating. Yet, when I placed the order for things I thought she might need, I included it.
Impulsive, intrusive thoughts.
She hasn’t worn it yet, and I’m almost dreading the moment she walks past me in the hallway and I catch the perfume drifting from her skin.
What will that do to me?
My fingers drum against the top of my steering wheel as I pull into the driveway of my mansion.
I had to come home eventually.
It’s late afternoon now, and I was just wasting time at the office. My eyes lift towards the mansion, searching the windows for signs of her, but the house is quiet from the outside. She’s been quiet since she got here, anyway. Mostly hiding in her room. It’s better that way. That’s what I keep telling myself.
I don’t want to fight with her, and I feel that’s all I have to give her. Anger and resentment, and hatred for what she did.
It masks the other emotions. Emotions, I won’t admit it.
The door slams when I swing it. One of the security guards nods at me, smiling politely.
“Afternoon, sir,” he mutters.
“Afternoon,” I mutter in response. “Was there any trouble while I was away?”
“No, sir. Your cousins stopped by, but they said they’d come back when you were home.”
“Cousin? Was it the girls?” I ask, every fiber in my being goes rigid with anxiety. What would they have thought when they came across Anya? Would she have come down and spoken to them? Perhaps she stayed in her room, out of sight.
“Cousins, sir. Both the girls, Katya and Kira.”
