Page 26 of The Pakhan's Forced Bride
Her cheeks are bright pink as I press my body harder into hers.
“Give me the keys, bunny,” I whisper against her ear, still smiling, enjoying the close proximity.
She glances left and right, her cheeks glowing brighter as she realizes people are watching.
“Ugh. You’re impossible,” she blurts out, waving the keys in my face. I take them from her hand, letting my fingers brush over hers before I reluctantly step away. The electricity is undeniable. But she’s determined to ignore the chemistry between us.
She storms around the car, and I run to get to her door before her, pulling it open and holding it for her. Again, she rolls her eyes, a habit I find rather endearing. If she knew how cute she looked when she got this upset, she might rethink ever being angry in front of me again. I don’t think it’s hergoalto have me thinking she’s cute, not right now. Strong, forceful, determined—but not cute.
Belle ducks into the car, and I climb into the driver’s side.
“Are you sure I can’t take you somewhere else? My custom jeweler has a workshop around the corner from here; he could design something for you to wear with that dress you bought.”
She folds her arms across her chest and pointedly stares forward, not acknowledging me.
I had to try one last time.
I take the long way home, the scenic route through town, past some key tourist attractions, hoping to entice her into enjoying herself, but it doesn’t work. Still, it’s a nice drive. Even grumpy, I like being around her.
Back at the mansion, she disappears into her room and closes the door.
I head back to my office to get the rest of my work done. It’s not much, but I left it half-finished to rush out and join Belle at lunch.
I’m busy reading through next week’s schedule when Drake steps into my office, knocking on the door and then walking in to place a security report on my desk.
“You had a visitor today,” he remarks, tapping a printout from one of the cameras.
For a moment, I don’t recognize her. It’s been almost two years since I last saw Lydia. “Lydia Alcove. What was she doing here?” I ask, surprised, because I never invited her to my home. She was a very short-lived fling. We met up at hotels. It wasn’t anything more than a bit of fun that I got bored with quite quickly when I realized she wanted more.
She’s beautiful, but shallow. Empty conversations and a lot of gossip about the LA scene. That’s not my style. While I come across to most people as brutish and cold, I crave genuine connection and deep conversations.The kind I have with Belle.
“Isn’t she the one who stalked you for a while after you split?” Drake asks.
“Stalks is a strong word. She annoyingly didn’t get the hint, but I wouldn’t say she stalked me.”
“And showing up at your private home uninvited?” Drake muses, his brows raised.
“Okay, fair point. I guess she figured out where I lived and stopped by to say hello?”
“Dressed like that? I think she wanted more than a simple hello.” Drake isn’t letting this go. I shake my head, laughing at him.
“Well, she wasn’t going to get what she came for.” I push the photograph back across my desk towards him. “How did she get past security?”
“She showed them a message from you saying to meet her for brunch.”
“That message must have been really old, and referring to a hotel, not my home. That’s sneaky of her. How did you get rid of her in the end?”
Drake shrugs. “I didn’t. She spoke with Belle, then left.”
“She spoke with Belle?” I blurt out, standing up, knocking my desk chair backwards.
Drake narrows his eyes. “Is there a problem, sir?” he asks, confused.
“No, uh, it just might explain why Belle was so off today at lunch.”
“I see.” He nods, picking up the photo and slipping it into the file with the rest of the report. “You have to watch out for women like that. They stir drama like they're being paid to do it,” he says, tapping the top of the file.
I chuckle, narrowing my eyes, trying to remember something. “Like that show—I can’t understand why it’s so popular, something about housewives—"
