Page 54 of Claimed By the Pakhan

“Long enough,” jokes the man, sipping coffee. “It’s an honor to finally meet you, Fia, and congratulations on the pregnancy. Also, for escaping death. We’re not all as fortunate in that department as you are.”

Luka and Emil flash each other a glare before turning my way, taking stock of my face.

“You say you’re in charge of shipping manifests?”

“Fia works in financial forensics,” says Emil to Ivan. “She knows what she’s doing with numbers.”

“And in the bedroom, according to the doe-eyed looks you’re giving her across the table,” laughs a very caffeinated Ivan, slapping his friend’s shoulder.

Emil keeps a straight face, pinning his friend a glare. “I think we’re done here.”

“I’m not,” I say, abandoning breakfast. “I found something interesting in my pocket from the day of the crash.”

“Well go on,” prompts Ivan. “What was it?”

“A shipping manifest with Luka’s name on it.” I lean in, watching Ivan, wondering if he’ll find this as funny as Emil’s doe-eyes. “The ship was registered to Vancouver. Unfortunately, detailswere limited since the document was ripped, the bottom piece missing, but I’m wondering if you can provide some more information.”

Ivan frowns, staring right back at me. “I’m sorry, Fia, but I write millions of cargo manifests a year.”

“But why Vancouver? And why in Luka’s name?”

“We work closely with the port to monitor Alexander,” answers Emil. “Making sure he doesn’t act out of character.” Emil rises from the table, chair legs scraping on the wooden floorboards as he steps back, collecting plates.

“Perhaps I should return to the street where I was hit and see if I can remember anything.”

“No,” says Ivan, shaking his head. “With Alexander back in Seattle, things are too risky.”

“I agree,” says Emil, staring at me pointedly, like he wants me to mind my business.

“Like I said to you before,” adds Luka. “Your memories will return when the time is right.” He offers me a reassuring smile before standing up, helping Emil with the dishes.

Ivan has other interests, remaining seated, staring at me like I’m a puzzle. “You’re a curious girl, Fia.”

“Woman,” I correct, standing up from the table with my eggs and bacon, which I now look forward to eating alone. “Curiosity always wins.”

“Yes,” says Ivan, the other two obliviously tidying in the kitchen. “Until it doesn’t.”

I flash this asshole a glare before marching outside, eating my breakfast, surrounded by birds instead of traitors. Ivan has left a bad taste in my mouth. Thanks to him, my bacon tastes like lies.

Emil steps onto the porch a few minutes later when I’m dipping bacon into the yolk, minding my own.

I glance up, seeing him stare at me. “You’re acting weird.”

“And you need to control that mouth,” warns Emil, leaning into the porch, regarding me. “I might have to shove my cock in there to keep you quiet.”

“In front of your two friends?”

“Indeed,” says Emil, keeping a straight face. “So they can see who you belong to.” He slides his fingers into his pockets, watching me sidelong as I eat my bacon and eggs. “I have my eye on Ivan, which is why I invited him over. He was working as ground crew two years ago, his family arguably more dysfunctional than mine. I won’t traumatize you with the specifics, but we bonded over losing family members,” says Emil, taking a beat, as if to reflect on the past he has always failed to forget. “Ivan knew the dockyard like the back of his hand and had a thirst for blood after losing loved ones, so I hired him.”

“And then what happened?”

“He became rich overnight, suddenly being able to afford a house of his own. Essentially, I took him off the streets.”

“You don’t strike me as a charitable man.”

“I’m full of surprises,” Emil says, winking. “My influence in the west coast shipping trade remains strong, my power unmatched, but I know how it can get when you live at the docks,working there day and night. Sometimes, you go days without seeing other human beings. The shadows and fog are your only companions, becoming projections of the deepest, darkest corners of your subconscious mind. Loneliness can turn you crazy.”

“Or perhaps it keeps you sane,” I suggest.