Page 38 of The Pakhan’s Unwanted Bride

"Is that why you're always so controlled?" She turns slightly to face me. "Because you're afraid?"

"I'm cautious. There's a difference." I glance at her. "Fear makes you reactive. Caution makes you strategic."

She considers this, her fingers tracing the embossed title on her book cover. "I spent my entire life believing powerful men only valued me because of my title. Because of what marrying me would bring them."

The admission surprises me. Not that it's true, but that she admits it. She's used to schemes and doing what it takes to get what she wants, using her title and people to accomplish her goals. Hearing her admit that she knows this is a little surprising. She's a lot smarter than I used to give her credit for.

"And now?" I ask.

"Now I'm engaged to a man who made it very clear he doesn't want to marry me." She meets my eyes. "So either my theory was wrong, or you're the exception."

"Your title has caused me nothing but problems, Princess." The words come out blunt, but honest. "If I valued you for your bloodline, I'd be a hell of a lot happier about this arrangement."

For a moment, she just stares at me. Then she laughs. It's genuine, not the practiced social laugh I've heard her use at gatherings. This one is real, surprised, almost relieved.

"That's the most honest thing anyone has said to me in years." She shakes her head, still smiling. "Everyone else pretends the title doesn't matter while clearly calculating what they can gain from it."

"I don't pretend." I shift slightly on the bench. "Your title is a liability I'm managing. But you…" I pause, choosing my words carefully. "You're more complicated than I expected."

"Is that a compliment?"

"It's an observation."

The conversation continues, awkward and honest in equal measure. This is one of the few times since this engagement began that we're not fighting. We're not arguing about control or tradition or what either of us wants. We're just talking.

It's almost comfortable. Which immediately makes me uncomfortable. The warning from my ancestor comes to the forefront in my mind. I can't let emotions or feelings deter me from my goals.

"I never wanted children," Ana says suddenly. "Everyone assumes I'll want heirs, that continuing the bloodline is my duty. But I've never felt that pull."

"Good." The word comes out before I can stop it. "Because I meant what I said. I'm not having kids."

"Why?" She tilts her head, studying me. "You raised Gregory. You clearly have paternal instincts."

"Gregory was different. He needed someone, and I was there." I look away, focusing on the fountain. "But bringing a child into this world deliberately, knowing the violence and danger they'd inherit? That's not something I'm willing to do."

"Most men in your position see heirs as essential."

"Most men in my position are idiots who care more about legacy than the actual business.”

She nods slowly, something like understanding in her expression. "We're quite a pair, aren't we? The princess who doesn't want to be a mother and the Pakhan who refuses to have heirs."

"Our families will be thrilled."

She laughs again, and I find myself grinning like a fucking idiot. But I can't help it. Her laugh is so contagious, so open and free. It brightens up her entire face. She was beautiful before, but right now she's… breathtaking. Benedikt moves closer to us, shifting his attention from the surroundings to us.

"Princess." His voice carries across the garden. "You've been out here for quite a while. Perhaps you should go inside."

Ana's expression shifts, irritation replacing the openness that was there moments before. "I'm fine, Benedikt."

"The sun is getting stronger." He moves even closer, positioning himself between Ana and me in a way that's subtle but unmistakable. "You'll burn."

"I'm wearing sunscreen." Her tone sharpens. "And I'm having a conversation."

"Of course." Benedikt's eyes meet mine briefly, and I see the compassion for Ana turn to coldness for me. "I simply thought you might be more comfortable inside."

The possessiveness in his behavior is obvious now that I'm looking for it. The way he stands too close to Ana. How his hand hovers near her arm like he's ready to guide her away. The way he looks at me like I'm a threat he needs to neutralize. I've seen this before, men who guard someone so closely, they forget the line between protection and possession. This is something I will need to keep an eye on.

"I'll come inside when I'm ready." Ana stands, her movements sharp with frustration. "Thank you for the conversation, Samuil."