Page 68 of Bought By the Ruthless Pakhan

"Of course. Can't have you eating garbage."

I picked up Chris's paper bag from the cabinet as I passed. Heavy, neatly folded, smelling of bakery cream.

I hefted it once, didn't open it, dropped it straight into the trash.

Anna's kitchen was tiny. Too small for two people to turn around without bumping shoulders. No idea how she managed in here.

I set the pan on the burner and turned on the flame. Blue fire licked the bottom. I dropped in a chunk of butter. It melted slowly, sizzling, filling the kitchen with rich, buttery scent.

I laid bacon strips in the pan one by one. Oil spattered. I shifted instinctively, realized I wasn't wearing an apron. These hands could steady a gun and hit a target's brow from a hundred meters. Cooking bacon was somehow trickier.

"Be careful. Don't burn yourself."

I turned. Anna stood in the doorway, hand on the frame, wearing that cream-colored pajama set, buttoned to the top. Her hair was mussed, loose strands framing her face. She looked like she'd just crawled out from under the covers.

Her color was better than before. Morning light came through the window behind her, outlining her in soft gold.

I turned off the burner, leaned against the counter, and smiled at her. "Come here."

She hesitated. Brief, but I saw the struggle in her eyes—like wind rippling water, wavering, then settling.

She walked over slowly, each step cautious, leaving herself an escape route.

I pulled her into my arms. Her hair brushed my chin, soft.

"Still mad at me?"

"No." Her voice was muffled against my shoulder, slightly nasal. "I just don't want to forgive you."

She wouldn't forgive me, yet she'd let me have my way last night? Now stood here letting me hold her?

Just a stubborn little cat.

I cupped her face, made her look at me. "Look at me, Anna. I searched for you for five years. I won't let anyone take you away again. Not your bastard father. Not Chris. No one."

Anna looked at me. Her eyes were bright in the morning light, like amber washed clean. She looked for a moment, then her lashes lowered. She lifted her hands, brushed mine away.

"Just focus on cooking."

She wouldn't give in. Wouldn't say she forgave me.

I sighed inwardly. Didn't push.

Five years of distance wouldn't vanish with a few words. I had patience. I could wait.

Then another voice rang out.

"Ivan! What are you doing here?"

Alex ran over in his school uniform, hair sticking up in places, obviously combed by himself. He ran up to me, looked up with those gray-blue eyes bright and full of joy.

I smiled down at him. "Came to take you to school."

I ruffled his hair. "Go check your backpack. After breakfast, we'll head out."

"Awesome!"

Alex bounced back to his room.