Page 4 of Bought By the Ruthless Pakhan

Smoke curled between his fingers. He didn't even stand up. Just raised his hand casually, like he was buying something trivial.

But those eyes. Even through the darkness, through the smoke, through the whole room full of laughter—I could feel it.

He was looking at me.

Like he was examining something he'd already bought.

He was...

My buyer.

Chapter Two

Ivan

I didn't plan on buying anyone.

That's what I thought before she showed up.

Girls came and went on that stage—some crying, some laughing, some biting their lips to hold it together. They were like a tank full of fish floating belly-up, waiting for someone to scoop them out and toss them into the next bed.

I'd seen too many. I'd gone numb. Sitting there, my mind was still on Sergei's overreaching hands and whether I should chop them off.

"Six hundred thousand!"

I looked up.

The spotlight swallowed her whole, so bright it nearly erased her. She squinted against it like a cat caught in a flashlight beam. But it only lasted a second. She opened her eyes and said it again, clear into the mic. "Six hundred thousand!"

The room went silent. Two seconds later, the loudest laugh I'd heard all year exploded through the crowd.

I watched her.

Thin. Pale. Wearing a dress that barely covered what it needed to, like a fish thrown on a cutting board—but one that still tried to bite. She stood under that spotlight, forcing herself to stay calm, not knowing that dress hid nothing. Not her collarbones. Not her knees. And definitely not the fear bleeding through every crack.

Her lashes were trembling, but she didn't look away.

The kitten had no idea that kind of defiance only made people want to tear her apart.

I could've looked away. But I didn't.

My heart skipped a beat without warning, and then—

My pants got tight.

I was hard.

For a stranger on an auction stage. For a kitten who had no clue what she was doing.

I wanted to push it down, get a grip, but it was hard. Every few seconds, her fear, her fake composure, crashed back into my head like a splinter stuck in my thumb—not painful, but impossible to shake.

What the hell was wrong with me?

After Victoria, I'd stopped trusting women. All they wanted was my position. They lied with ease, sweet-talked you into believing them, then turned around and denied everything. I was done with that game. All I wanted was to raise Nadia.

Yeah, women were cunning creatures. I shouldn't trust her. She was just a toy pushed out by the sellers, a new sales tactic. For all I knew, she was already scheming how to drain my wallet dry.

But I was still hard.