Page 22 of The Pakhan’s Hidden Heir

She takes the glass and watches the bubbles climb like she’s never seen sparkling water before. “This place gives me the creeps, Raina. Who lives like this?” She gestures and sets the water down, sitting back in the seat. I don’t know why she’s personally offended by Bastian’s wealth. How did she think he was going to spare a million dollars to pay me to carry his heir? “And what about that creepy maid. No one smiles that much.”

“She’s just kind.” I chuckle and think about the warm woman who has really taken me under her wing since the hour I arrived. “You just have to get to know the place. It’s really warm and inviting.”

“The wall, the men at the gate, the cameras…You don’t find that strange? Why does he need security like this? What’s he into?” That’s a question I don’t really have an answer to. I don’t know a lick about his business or what he does, how he makes his fortune.

I lean back and let the sun warm my face a second before I answer. “He’s a wealthy man, Lada. I’d be more worried if a house like this didn’t have a wall around it.” She’s scrutinizing things she knows nothing about.

She doesn’t know what he does for a living either, but suddenly he’s a bad man for having money?

My annoyance rides the undercurrent of emotion bubbling in my chest, but I try hard to be patient.

I knew she was against this agreement for a long time. I just hoped we could move past it once I was settled in.

“A wall keeps people out, Raina. And he’s keeping you in now? Are you his prisoner?”

This is starting to really frustrate me so I change the subject in hopes that she lets it go and we can just have a pleasing lunch. “Tell me about your week, hun. How’s the shop, how’s your mother, what did I miss out there in the real world?”

Lada is quiet for a moment, pursing her lips as she stares at me.

She hasn’t touched a single thing on her plate, though it’s loaded with finger sandwiches, fresh vegetables and dip, and fruits you only find in warmer climates.

“You really haven’t heard,” she says slowly, narrowing her eyes at me.

“Heard what?”

“Raina, the whole city’s been talking about it for days. A man was gunned down in the street, shot dead right out in the open. They’re saying he was bratva, and nobody knows who did it.” She searches my face like she’s waiting for something to click. “It’s been on every screen in every shop. How have you not seen it?” When she leans forward and scrunches her face up like she doesn’t believe me.

I shrug and shake my head. “I don’t watch the news. There’s a library and a music room and a garden. I haven’t turned on a screen in two weeks and I haven’t missed it at all.” Being here has been like being on vacation.

I miss quiet days without being bombarded with bad news and drama. I’ve enjoyed disconnecting for a while.

Ingrid returns then with a bottle of chilled wine and sets it down with that warm smile Lada distrusts before she withdraws. I wait until she’s gone before I pick up my fork to start eating.

“A man got shot,” I say. “That’s terrible, but the city’s a big place, and terrible things happen in it every day. What does that have to do with me? Why do I need to know that?”

Lada leans across the table, lowering her voice in a conspiratorial tone. “Because you’re living behind a bratva wall, planning to have a baby with a man who has cameras in his trees. Open your eyes, Raina.”

I stare at her blankly, wondering what the heck she’s trying to get at. Bastian isn’t a criminal.

He’s a businessman, and his cameras are to protect his property because he owns expensive things. She’s insane.

“I think you’re stitching two unrelated things together because you don’t like me being here.” I take a calming breath so I don’t end up snapping at her, but I’m quickly reaching my limit. And it makes me sad. “Bastian’s a businessman with buildings all over the city. Of course he has security. That doesn’t make him a criminal.” As much as I want to deny it, the niggling fear that she may be right lodges itself inside my chest, but the immediate and powerful defensiveness rises up. I’m not marrying him or falling in love.

I’m producing a baby under a contract to provide him an heir, then I’m moving on with my life.

There’s nothing illegal about that.

“You don’t even know what he does. You’ve told me that yourself.” She pushes her plate an inch away. “You’re being blind on purpose, because seeing it would mean admitting I might’ve been right for once.”

Her words sting, though I know they’re aimed at guilt tripping me. I just hate that it’s working the way she wants it too. But I stiffen my shoulders and try not to let my emotions get out of control.

“Even if he is something more than a businessman,” I say carefully, “it doesn’t change my situation. He wants a healthy child, and he’s willing to pay me. And he has great security in the meantime.”

My pulse is racing, hands getting sweaty, and my appetite is gone now. I just wanted this to be a peaceful lunch where we could catch up.

“Raina.” Lada reaches across and takes my hand, and instead of an argumentative tone, she sounds worried. “This is a bad idea. My cousin knows people who do debt consolidation, and I’ve got a little saved, and between us we could⁠—”

“The collectors stopped calling.”