Page 3 of The Pakhan’s Hidden Heir

“You’re talking about my DNA, Miss Volina. I won’t be sharing that anywhere that might trace back to me.” I keep the rest short.

She doesn’t need the whole shape of my world to understand this part of it. “Men in my position have had it stolen before. Taken, frozen, sold off, or held over their heads to bend them. I won’t carry that risk. The child gets made the natural way, between the two of us, or it doesn’t get made at all. Is that a problem?”

She goes quiet for a moment, working it over. I watch her throat constrict and her eyes nervously search my face. “So when you say natural, you mean you and me. Not a procedure in a clinic.”

“That’s exactly what I mean.” This is the part that will challenge me, especially if this woman agrees. “I fuck you as much as my body will allow, until you’re carrying my child. Once you’ve conceived, that can be discontinued if you want.”

My chest twists uncomfortably as I say that last bit. Why any woman would want to discontinue that favor with me is beyond me, but it’s part of the agreement for a reason.

Probably more for my safety than anything else. I can’t let this get under my skin. I have too much at stake.

“Until I’m pregnant,” she repeats, settling it in her own head. If anything she looks steadier now that she knows the whole agreement.

“When you say I’d live here under guard,” she says, “what does that mean day to day? Am I a guest or a prisoner?”

A better question than most men in my organization would think to ask. “You’ll have a room, the run of the house and the grounds, anything you need brought to you. What you won’t have is the freedom to walk out the gate on your own. The moment you’re carrying my child, you become the most valuable thing in this city to every man who’d like to see me bleed. The guard at your door is there to protect, not to punish.”

“And after,” she says. “Do I have a place in the child’s life, or do I hand him over and disappear?”

A fair question. Fairer than the money. “You carry the baby here, behind my walls, the whole nine months. After the birth, you stay on as a wet nurse, and your freedom comes back to you then, more or less, for as long as the child needs feeding.”

“And how long does that last?”

“Around nine months. If the arrangement’s working by then, you may stay on past it.” Beyond that I never considered a woman wanting to stay, but if she’s pleased too, well… “If it isn’t, we’ll work out the terms then.”

I watch as that information sinks in. I want the child and nothing more. It should be liberating to her.

“And the money,” she says. “When do I see it?”

“You get fifty thousand up front, then the rest of the first half when the pregnancy’s confirmed. The remainder comes when you put a healthy child in my arms.”

Her shoulders loosen a little. It softens the hard lines on her face and the strain in her eyes, making her even more beautiful than before. “That works for me,” she says. “Then I have one more question.” She shifts in her seat, and the mended cuff drags along the edge of the table. “If I’m the one you choose—how soon do we start?”

I close her folder and lay my hand flat on top of it. I let myself look at her now, all of her, the way I wouldn’t a minute ago.

There’s no reason left to pretend I haven’t already made up my mind.

And there’s no reason to hold back this beast inside of me that has spotted what it wants and is ready to devour her whole.

“No time like the present.” I hold her gaze so there’s no mistaking what I mean by it.

Akim shifts in his chair, but I ignore him in favor of the blush creeping over her cheeks.

Yes, I’ll have fun with this—probably enough to make me wish I’d chosen one of those rejects and not this queen.

2

RAINA

I stand at the side of my bed packing my duffel bag with immediate necessities, and by Thursday I won’t live here anymore.

By the end of the year I’ll have carried a stranger’s child and walked away with a million dollars.

It’s a horrible idea—I know that. And so does my best friend, who sits on the edge of my bed refusing to help me because it’s a hill she’s ready to die on.

“I’m not going to help you do this,” Lada says again, in case I missed it the first three times.

“Then sit there quietly, and stay out of the way.” I hold my hand out for the stack of books at her feet, but she stares at me blankly instead of handing them to me. “Lada, hand them over.”