Page 40 of The Pakhan's Secret Baby

"Yes sir," he says, already touching his hands-free unit.

That's when Lex decides he's had enough.

He opens his mouth and wails.

His fists ball up; his face goes red, and his whole body shakes with the force of it.

I hold him out at arm's length and stare at him because I genuinely don't know what to do.

I've run an empire of four hundred men, sat across from killers and crime lords.

But this boy screaming on my lap has me more lost than any of them.

My driver glances at the mirror and I catch a smirk pulling at his mouth before he looks back at the road.

"Eyes forward," I tell him, and pull the boy back against my chest, because it's the only thing I can think to try.

I'm not going to give in, either. Emory kept this child from me for long enough.

If she wants him back she's going to beg, and I'm going to show her what happens to women who keep secrets from me.

13

EMORY

I don't trust the main roads anymore after being confronted by Rashid and those men that my father works for, so I cut through the park and cross at the pedestrian bridge, keeping my hood up and my hands deep in my pockets the whole way.

Every time someone walks too close behind me I feel afraid, and I have to force myself not to turn around.

After being yanked off the street and thrown into that SUV, I don't think I'll ever walk anywhere again without being afraid.

The administration building is at the far end of campus past the library.

I push through the front entrance and cross the lobby toward the stairs, keeping my head down as a group of students passes me going the other direction.

I've made up my mind that this is the only thing I can do. We can't stay in St. Petersburg where men are hunting us, so I have to get my money back and buy those train tickets.

I push through the glass door at the administration offices, and the receptionist looks up from her computer as I walk up timidly.

"I need to see a financial advisor, Please..." My hand perches on the counter, but she doesn't look impressed.

She checks something on her screen. "Do you have an appointment?" Then she looks at me, down her nose over the pair of wire-rim glasses she wears.

"No," I say nervously. I didn't realize you had to have an appointment. I just need to cancel my classes and get my money back. "I just need to talk to someone about my tuition."

"Galina Petrovna handles tuition matters, but she's with a student right now." The woman talks as she types, but her eyes bounce between me and the screen. "It could be about thirty minutes if you'd like to wait."

"I'll wait." That comment earns me a pinched expression as she works her jaw and sighs.

"Can I get your name for the list?"

"Emory Rostova."

She types it down and gestures to the chairs along the wall without looking up again. I sit down and my knee starts bouncing immediately.

My whole life I've wanted to be an art student and make paintings like the famous artists of the past.

Batya used to tell me I was starry-eyed and dreaming, but when he saw my artwork as early as year six and was impressed, he believed in me.