Page 43 of Taken By My Grumpy Pakhan

She moved before I could get a proper hold of her, running to the opposite side of the room, her soft laughter bouncing all over the space.

“Wait until Rose and Caroline find out you have a baby tree. They won’t believe it.”

“You won’t say a word about this.”

Did she just stick her tongue out at me?

“Bet. They’ll be so shocked to know the big scary boss has an actual house with marble, cozy warm decor and a baby tree.”

“He’s fifteen, hardly a baby.” The words were out before I realized the implication.

Genevieve might’ve also burst into multiple rays of excitement. “He? Birthday? Oh, this is gold.”

She whipped out her phone and I was on her before she could slip away. “No pictures.”

Her lips tilted. “Is Dusha camera shy?”

“I don’t appreciate pictures of my apartment.”

She regarded me for a moment before speaking. “You don’t scare me.”

Her spine was straight, chin jutted out in defiance, but the pulse in her throat said otherwise. My lips tilted for the first time. “You think I’m scary?”

“Not to me,” she rushed out, her bravado now shaky. “Your staff are scared shitless, but you don’t scare me one bit.”

Now I was amused. “But you’re my staff, little bird.”

“I’m not a bird and even if I were one, I wouldn't be little.”

If my estimation was right, she stood at a good 5'10" on a normal day and her heels bumped her to 5'11" or 6 feet, but her head stopped shy of my chin.

The specks of green dusting her brown eyes gleamed in the low-lit room as she diverted her attention to the city outside.

Though her audacious side lit a fire in my loins, I had a twisted perversion for stripping her of her confidence and watching her struggle to regain control.

“So you don’t think I’m scary?”

“You own a tree,” she deadpanned.

My lips curled. “And that makes me less scary?”

“Nope.” She popped the ‘p’, her smile returning. “It makes you a cutie potato.”

My head emptied of a proper retort while she swayed with a dazed smile. To say I was stunned would be an understatement.

I’ve been called a lot of things, but not once has anyone referred to me as cute even in their most drunken state.

“It’s a good thing,” she continued. “It means you have a heart in there and you’re not as annoying and evil as you portray yourself.”

Now I was just amused.

“Really?” I decided to play into her game. “You think I don’t have a heart?”

“You did try to shoot me in the vagina.”

I took a step forward. “Your reaction was hardly that of a person scared for their life.”

Her breath hitched and she took a step back. “I told you, you didn’t scare me.”