Page 35 of The Pakhan's Sold Bride

I close my eyes, trying not to focus on him, but it’s impossible. My body is desperate for more, despite my logic arguing against it.

“There you are,” he says, placing his hands on my hips and turning me to face him. He tucks a strand of hair behind my ear and smiles; it’s so delicious it makes my heart pulse faster, rushing blood through my veins and making my head spin.

“You look gorgeous, Lara,” he says, his voice a little deeper than before.

“Thank you,” I whisper.

“I’m ready when you are. Shall I wait downstairs?”

Where else does he want to wait?

“I’m just about ready, too. I’ll choose some shoes and then we can go.”

“Excellent,” he says, walking to my bed and sitting on the edge.

Oh. He’s going to stay and watch me.

Increasingly self-conscious, I hurry to the closet and grab two pairs of high heels, carrying them to the full-length mirror on the wall.

I slip one of each shoe onto each foot and look at the effect in the mirror.

“The one with the tassels,” he says, his eyes locked onto me, slowly tracing up my legs.

I turn to face him, so he can see better. “You think so?”

“I do, they’re really cute.” He smiles, his eyes dark as they drift over me.

The idea of him thinking I look cute has my mind racing. Or is it the way he’s looking at me?

I kick off the other shoe and replace it with the black strappy heel with a tassel around the ankle.

“Perfect,” he says, standing up. “Shall we?” he gestures towards the bedroom door. I grab my purse with my phone and a lightweight jacket and let him walk me down the stairs to the front door, and out to the car.

He’s being such a gentleman, holding his arm out so that I can lean on him as I walk down the stairs, and gently placing his hand on my back as we leave the house.

He holds the car door open for me, and I can’t help the grin that touches my lips. “Thank you,” I say politely.

I watch out of the window as we drive around the city, and I keep expecting him to turn into the main vibrant area in the middle of the city, where all the popular restaurants are. But we seem to be getting further away from it.

Eventually, we’re out in a much quieter neighborhood filled with gorgeous houses, and he pulls up a long driveway.

The security guard at the gate waves and nods when he drives through.

I bite the inside of my cheek, nervous. This is someone’s house. That means we are meeting other people. Am I dressed well enough? What kind of dinner is this?

Doing my best to calm my thoughts, I push a smile onto my face as we walk up the steps towards the front door.

It opens before we get there, and an older woman steps out onto the front steps.

“Nestor, darling,” she says, spreading her arms to hug him.

“Mom.” He smiles and holds her tight.

Mom? Are you serious? I’m meeting his mother? Of all the possibilities, this is the least expected one.

“Mom, this is Lara, my wife.”

His mother does an excellent job of hiding the surprise on her face, but her voice does quaver a bit.

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