Page 47 of Taken By My Grumpy Pakhan

“How long are you going to keep up with this?”

She maintained a straight face. “I have no idea what you speak of.”

“I’m sure you do, Genevieve. No one forgets dry-humping their boss's thigh overnight.”

Her countenance faltered. Her eyes flashed with a retort but calmed, deciding against it. “Why didn’t you wake me?”

“You looked tired.”

Her eyes finally landed on me. “So you left me sleeping in your room because I looked tired, knowing full well there was a meeting?”

“I instructed my driver to take you home and bring you to work.”

I let out a breath of disbelief. “And you couldn’t make the same request after waking me on time?”

“You looked tired,” I repeated.

“Clearly not tired enough to be publicly embarrassed.”

“You were late.”

Her lips parted and closed. She took a deep breath, and when her eyes reopened, the storm was gone. “Is there something else I can do for you?”

The look washed over me with a quiet revelation—I went too far. “You can tell me how to make it up to you.”

“Nothing.”

“There has to be something,” I pressed. “Say it and it’ll be yours.”

“You’re already incapable of giving it.”

I rested my elbow on the table, supporting my chin with my hands. “And what would that be?”

“Respect? Consideration for my person? Not bringing me to parties where you parade other women, taking me home, abandoning me in your bed, and humiliating me the next morning. Can you give me that much?”

I was rendered speechless. My expectations swung within the lines of a new car, jewelry, a Birkin, a free trip or some days off from the office. Those I could easily give, but this?

When moments passed and I was yet to say a word, she nodded.

“I thought as much. Have a nice day, Mr. Ivanovich, and let me know if you require my assistance at any point.”

She didn’t walk into her office.

Chapter Twelve

Genevieve

“He’s unbelievably difficult. Walks as if he owns the world and the rest of us are peasants.”

Collin smiled. “He does own this fraction of the world.”

I gave him a look that wiped the smile off his face.

“Your food is growing cold.”

I stabbed the pasta with my fork, gathering a few into my mouth, but the tasty meal had the same flavour as cardboard after Kazimir was brought up.

“I don’t get it.” I let the fork fall with a clang. “You men act like the floor he walks on is gold-plated and he farts treasury bills and shits out bitcoin.”