Page 65 of The Pakhan's Sold Bride

“Okay?” he repeats, leaning against the kitchen counter, one arm folded over his chest, the other holding the beer. His eyes narrow towards me.

I take a deep breath, trying to settle my racing heart.

“I put together a report that I created after looking over all of the information in the folder on your laptop,” I say it all very quickly, trying to get everything out at once before he starts shouting at me about privacy and minding my own business.

His eyes drop to the folder in my hands, his expression remaining neutral. His eyes lift to meet mine, and his stare is intense. I step forward, offering him the folder.

He sets his beer down on the counter behind him and crosses one leg over the other, still leaning back, but flipping slowly through the pages of my report.

I wait like a schoolgirl, anxious and scared, expecting to be lectured for my unimpressive work or overstepping boundaries.

Each time the tension rises in my stomach, I shove it back down and remind myself that I’m really good at what I do.

I watch Nestor’s face, wanting to be patient, but unable to stop myself when I ask, “What do you think?”

My voice betrays my nervousness and causes Nestor to look up at me with an unusual smile on his face.

I bite my lip.

Is that a good smile or a bad smile?

“How long did this take you?”

“Today. Most of the day.”

He closes the folder and sets it on the counter, picking up his beer again.

I hold my breath, making sure I wait without blurting out anything else.

He takes a slow sip as though he’s savoring my anxiety.

“Nestor,” I huff.

His laughter is mischievous. “Honestly, Lara, I’m taken by surprise.”

“Because I didn’t ask about looking at—"

“Because you’ve done a really good job of putting that together. I’ll go through it all properly tonight and then pass it on to Roan. I think it’s great. You clearly do have a naturaltalent for putting puzzles together, and it’s going to give us a new direction to add to our expanding search.”

“Really?” I say, almost too scared to believe him. He’s being so nice.

He steps forward and touches my cheek. “You know you’re good at what you do. Do you know how I know that?”

“How?” I ask, leaning into his touch.

“Because of the pride you took in putting that together for me. I’ve paid a lot of money for data analysis in the past, and it wasn’t even half as thorough and well presented as that. I mean it. I’m impressed.”

My cheeks skip the usual shade of blushing red and turn luminous pink as pride wells through me. “Thank you,” I mutter, looking away, smiling happily.

“Will you go to dinner with me?” he asks, catching me by surprise.

“Oh, I didn’t know we had plans.”

He laughs and shakes his head. “No, I’m asking you out, Lara. I want to take you on a date.”

A date? Like a date-date?My inner girl, the one who believes in love and happily ever afters, does a little somersault. But my logical, data analyst brain stops her mid-celebration and tells her to calm down because I can’t be reading into it.

I heard Miron whispering about me at the charity event, after Nestor and I had returned from our little adventure, and he was talking to a man about how I am a trophy wife for display purposes only.

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