Page 39 of The Pakhan’s Hidden Heir

My throat constricts. She’s unable to enjoy her hobbies or her friends. I should give that damn phone back. Akim is foolish to think Raina has anything to do with someone wanting me dead. The threats have slowed, but I still don’t think it has anything to do with her.

“The book any good?” I ask, and I don’t know why I ask it.

“It’s terrible.” She laughs finally, and the smile it brings brightens her whole face. I remember instantly with a shock that goes straight to my groin, how beautiful she is. “The heroine is so whiny, but I just keep reading. What does that say about me?”

“That you’ve had nothing better to do.”

“Whose fault is that?” she asks lightly, without any bite. Then she sighs and changes the subject back to books. “I might have to start rereading books. You’ve got a whole library, but I don’t speak English as well as some people. I have to stick to the Russian fiction, and I’m almost done reading the ones I’m interested in.”

“I’ll have Ingrid bring you better ones.”

Her head dips and she mutters, “Thank you,” but everything lags from there.

We eat in silence, chewing carefully and avoiding eye contact. There are a few times when I feel like she may say something, but she sighs and sips her water, then keeps eating. When I think of something to ask her, I talk myself out of it. I don’t want to give her the wrong idea about this dinner. I’m here simply to make sure she is being well taken care of.

But I feel the pull of wanting to talk to her, to ask her more about her love of reading, to find out what else she’s been cooking up in that kitchen. When my plate is clean I find myself lingering, wishing I had more to eat, more to say.

“Well,” she sighs, pushing the last bit of potatoes off her plate as she smiles softly. “Thank you for having dinner with me. It must feel good to have a home-cooked meal.”

“Ingrid is a good cook, as I’m sure, are you.” That comment gets her perked up. She lifts her eyes and sets her fork on her plate, watching me for a second.

“I’d love to cook for you sometime, though with the strict regimen you have me on for food, I’m not sure what I’d prepare.” Seeing her lighten, even a little, does my heart good. I can’t believe how thoroughly I’ve fallen for this woman. We’ve hardly spoken in weeks but the connection is unmistakable.

“What would you cook?” I ask, “If you could make me anything.”

Raina seems to lean into this thoughtfully, and I find myself intrigued by where it’s going. The itch in the back of my mind is quieter right now but still present, warning me that to fall into this trap of easy conversation—which flows between us like a summer spring—is a bad idea. I push it away and tune my ear to her. I want to know.

“Maybe my grandmother’s nut bread with homemade jam. You’d like it, but it’s way too much sugar for…” The words catch in her throat and she looks down at her plate, and the instant that bottom lip pouts out I know I have to get away from her. I’m just too drawn to her and her charm, the way she smiles at me, the pull to make her face light up and her body sing.

“I’m not much of a sweets eater,” I say abruptly as I stand and push my plate back. “If you’ll excuse me.” I nod, backing away from the table and turning toward the garden terrace.

I want, with everything in me, to stay and fall a little more. To pull at every loose thread that unravels her bit by bit until she’s mine and I am hers. But that’s the precise reason why I am walking away.

If I cave in and let myself have what I crave, it’s only going to end one way—in heartache.

Men around me will see Raina as a weakness, a target to attack in order to unsettle my whole empire and distract me.

As it stands, having a child will be hard enough. It’ll be announced far and wide that the most powerful man in the city has a new Achilles’ heel.

My enemies will come from all over to attempt to weaken me, and I will be caught with my pants down on more than one occasion. I’m counting on that. But a child stays indoors for much of its life, especially the early years.

Raina will want to go out and see friends. She’ll want to travel and see the world. There’s no protecting someone out in the open. Too many variables, too much risk.

No, stopping this right now before it goes any farther is the best bet, but I’m a weak man. I’m such a powerless fool when those eyelashes bat and that body moves toward me.

Putting distance between her and myself is the simple most effective way to cease all this temptation I dread and hate so deeply.

The terrace is quiet as darkness swallows the city. I take the chair by the wall and pull a cigar from my case, cutting it to light it and have a draw. Dinner with Raina was nothing.

It was a long day and I let my guard slip.

That’s all it was. It won’t happen again. I won’t allow myself to get in a situation where I feel that close to losing control.

Turning toward the fountain, I watch the slow trickle of water reflect the light from overhead and listen to the sound.

It soothes me slowly, drawing out the tension in my shoulders as I take another drag from the cigar and let the smoke float on the light breeze.

When I sent her off to her own room it took me a week to banish this urge to go claim her.