Page 16 of The Pakhan's Sold Bride

“I don’t,” she shouts, her voice finding strength in her anger.

“Really? You don’t anything about the shit that happened with your father. You justhappenedto arrive at my building right at the same time as he did. For no reason at all. Please, for crying out loud. Move on. It’s done. Deal with it.”

“But I didn’t come to that building for whatever reason my father gave you. He lied to me to get me there,” she says in desperation.

I snort. “Lying seems to run in your family, sweetheart.”

The evening rush hour has started, and we’re sitting in a line of cars waiting to turn off the main street. I sigh loudly, my temper wearing thin. It’s been a long day, and I’m bored with this conversation. She needs to take her bullshit somewhere else. It’s already done. Give it up.

“Nestor…Rostov,” she says, my name thoughtfully. “The tech company. Rostov Technologies. That’s you? You own that company?”

Fuck, she’s so good at this.

“I own three hundred and eighty-seven companies in this city alone, Lara. And youknowthat’s not the primary business.”

“Primary business?” she mutters, biting at her lip.

I roll my eyes and shake my head. “This conversation is over.”

“It can’t be over, because I still don’t know what’s going on,” she shouts, her fists clenched in her lap. She’s wavering between anger, frustration, and impatience. One moment she’s confused, and the next she’s shouting at me.

I don’t know what game she’s playing at, but I’m not falling for it. These questions are probably just her fishing for information from me. I shouldn’t engage, not until I can figure out what her hidden motives or plans are.

We pull into Sunset Strip, the road leading to my mansion.

She should be grateful I’ve taken her in. She’ll be living in a luxurious home, surrounded by servants, living a luxurious life. She should be thanking me. Not complaining.

“What does my father owe you?” she asks me for the hundredth time.

“Stop. I told you this conversation is over,” I snarl angrily, driving through the security gates and up the long driveway towards my front steps.

Her eyes go wide as she takes in the home she is about to start calling her own.

“Get out. Don’t bother trying to run, there are guards at every exit,” I warn her, putting an end to that idea before she’s even formed it in her mind.

She stands frozen next to the car, the passenger door still open.

Impatiently, I grab her arm and tug her forward, slamming the door, then pulling her up the steps towards the front door.

My doorman pulls it open for me and nods politely. “Good evening, sir. It looks like we are going to have a wonderful sunset this evening.”

“It does, Pax. You can tell the chef to serve dinner on the upstairs balcony.”

“Yes, sir,” he nods again.

“Look, if you can just explain to me—"

I tug her harshly in front of me, holding her tightly and forcing her to look at me. “Not another fucking word, Lara. I’ve had enough of this now. I was going to have you enjoy dinner with me upstairs, but I think you need to go into your room and think about how you really want to handle this situation. For the last fucking time, this innocent victim act is not working,” I growl angrily, my face hovering inches above hers. Her eyes are wide and sparkling with tears again.

I shake my head.

Enough is enough.

Dragging her up the stairs, I take her to the guest bedroom. I’ll need to have my men arrange some things for her, but for now, she can sleep in here. It has the basics. She can’t complain.

I shove her through the door, and she stumbles over the edge of the white fluffy rug, catching the corner of the bed to steady herself.

“Make yourself at home,” I say sarcastically.

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