Page 53 of My Ex’s Dad

I nod, lowering my gaze.

“Because I can’t stop wondering about how it’d be if, you know, he relaxed on the loan for this place.”

I jerk my head up and frown at her. “I don’t even want to go there.” It’s bad enough that I’m dealing with the taboo circumstances of being knocked up by my ex’s father, a man twice my age. It’s also that he’s a Bratva boss I owe money to.

“I’ll figure it out,” I repeat, knowing I sound like a broken record saying that.

“Hey, Liliana?” Rob approaches.

I turn toward him, wondering why he looks so confused.

“There’s some dude out front asking for you,” he says.

I narrow my eyes.

He holds his hands up. “No. It’s not Roman.” He furrows his brow, as if he’s rethinking what he said. “But he kinda looks like him.”

Oh, shit.

Anton and Roman don’t look that alike, but the familial resemblance is there.

There’s no avoiding him when he’s actually here, in the bakery. I step around the counter and shoot Jenni a glance to keep her mouth shut.

After passing another stainless-steel counter, I head toward the front.

He’s there, all right.

Tall. Handsome. Patient, almost. And sexy as hell in that suit as he watches me come to him.

“It’s a little busy here,” I say as a greeting. But a deep and stubborn curiosity simmers inside of me. A little thrill of knowing this powerful man has come here seeking me out.

“Looks like it.” He doesn’t budge, watching me hungrily as he keeps his hands in his pockets. “But it’s time for you to get busy preparing for tonight.”

I arch one brow and cross my arms.

“You need to get ready for the Grayson Ball,” he states, like it should be perfectly obvious. “As my date.”

A gasp comes behind me, and I want to roll my eyes at Jenni’s theatrics.

“Anton…” I warn slowly, shaking my head.

“She’s just about to leave now,” Jenni says, butting in.

“I am not,” I tell her without looking away from him.

“You are,” she insists. As she gives me a stern look, goading me into it, I want to groan at her pushing me like this.

I should tell him no.

Yet, as I watch him and notice the start of a mischievous smile tugging at his lips, I want to join him in this naughty, bad idea.

Me, going to a ball that his son expected to take me to?

Roman would react poorly. It’s almost too much to pass up on, the inevitable expression of pure shock on his face if he were to see me arrive with his father.

It’s easy to get carried away with the delight of wondering how everyone would react if they were to see me with Anton Sokolov. Any other woman would kill to be in my position. To be his date.

Instead of arguing with me or trying to bargain with me, he extends his hand and stares me down.