Page 124 of Taken By My Grumpy Pakhan

“This is fabricated.”

“Is it?” A photograph slid across the desk. Genevieve outside a café, head bent close to a man I didn’t recognize. “An associate of Volkov. Taken six weeks ago, about the time you traveled to Russia.”

“Coincidence.” My voice sounded distant even to me.

For someone who operated on facts and not sentiment, it was shocking how badly I wanted for this to be a lie.

“Her brother’s debts.” Another document. “You believe you cleared them. You didn’t. They were paid a week before you stepped in, same account.”

“The men only left her there because she was bringing in money, and when you arrived, they didn’t have the balls to tell you someone already paid and they held her.”

She continued talking while Nikolai joined me to examine the documents. “I guess they wanted to get her out of the situation and back to work. Maybe she wasn’t bringing in much information as a receptionist, and her brother’s involvement was all part of the plan and her brief work as a waitress was another scheme, but they realized it was dangerous and attempted to bring her back to work, but a miracle happened and you stepped in.”

Something went very quiet and very cold in my chest. I thought of every late night in this office, every file I’d left open on my desk while she sat across from me, every unguarded word I’d let slip because I’d stopped being careful the moment I started wanting her there.

“Kazimir.” Nikolai’s voice was low beside me.

I ignored him, checking the dates and bank stamps. Every deposit lined up with a meeting. Every leak I’d spent three months explaining away lined up with a room she’d been standing in.

My fingers curled into fists, flame erupting in my chest and pouring into my veins, but it wasn’t the heat that caused the bloodlust that took over me.

It was the silent emotion I’d never felt before. A cold, clammy sensation on my skin that almost fucked with my head and made my skin crawl.

Humiliation was a raw, foreign feeling, one I’d never met before but was suddenly introduced to.

I’d been played. It wasn’t just that; it was that Svetlana was sitting across from me right now, watching me realize it in real time, watching the man who ran half this city get outmaneuvered by an assistant with a sad story and a good smile.

She would remember this. Her family would hear about it by tonight, dressed up however she chose to dress it. Weak. Careless. A Pakhan who couldn’t tell a plant from a woman he actually wanted.

“This changes things,” Svetlana said quietly, and there was something almost satisfied underneath the concern in her voice, like she’d been waiting for this exact expression on my face. “My publicity team thinks we should move the wedding forward, and put out our own account before Volkov’s people spin their own version. That she was removed for cause. It protects you.”

“It protects you,” I said, and my voice came out flat and low in a way that made her sit back slightly. I might’ve let my guard down and let Genevieve slide, but I was no fool and I would not let anyone goad me into making emotional decisions. “You’ve wanted her gone since the day you found out she existed.”

“I wanted you protected. This just happens to serve both.”

I didn’t answer that. I was still staring at the photograph, at Genevieve’s face turned toward a stranger’s, and something in me that had spent months making excuses for her finally snapped clean in half.

“Get me everything on Volkov’s movement over the last six months,” I said. “Every meeting, every leak, every deal that fell through that shouldn’t have. I want to know exactly what she gave them and exactly who else touched it.”

“Kazimir.” Nikolai’s brow furrowed. “You’re moving fast.”

“I’ve moved slow enough. Slow got me a folder full of proof sitting on my desk and half my city about to hear I let an outsider walk information straight to Volkov while I let her sleep in my bed.”

“We don’t know for certain—”

“I know enough.” I stood, and the chair scraped back hard enough that Svetlana flinched.

“Kazimir, at least hear what she says before you—”

“I don’t need to hear anything from her. You said it yourself, she was just a warm pussy and this was probably for the best.” My voice was ice now, controlled in the way that had always frightened people more than shouting ever did. “I think it’s time she knew that too.”

Svetlana rose slowly, gathering her folder, something careful in her expression now, like even she hadn’t expected the temperature in the room to drop quite this far. “I only wanted you to see clearly.”

“You’ve seen what you wanted. Now leave.”

She left without another word. Nikolai stood there a moment longer, carefully watching me.

“Kazimir,” he said, his tone measured. “Whatever you’re planning, think it through. Emotions make men do stupid things.”