Page 102 of Taken By My Grumpy Pakhan

For now, there was a banner advertising an opera she’d wanted to see. It was hardly enough reason to trigger the backlash that might draw from it, nor was it enough to solve the problem I’d be facing the moment Svetlana’s father learned exactly how distracted his daughter’s intended had become.

However, it was enough to lighten my mood and make the drive home feel less like returning to an empty apartment and more like looking forward to something I hadn’t let myself want in longer than I could remember.

And I guess that was something. I had always been a selfish bastard.

Chapter Twenty-Five

Genevieve

“So let me get this straight.” Anna sat on the edge of my bed, watching me dig through my closet with the focused desperation of a woman who owned exactly nothing appropriate for an opera house. “SSB got tickets to the one play you mentioned wanting to see, like, a month ago, in passing, during a completely unrelated conversation. And this is a work thing?”

“It’s a client event.” I pulled out a navy dress I hadn’t worn since a cousin’s wedding two years ago, held it up to the light, and decided it looked exactly as outdated as I remembered. “He has investors who enjoy that sort of thing. I’m there for appearances.”

“Uh-huh.” Anna didn’t bother hiding her skepticism. “And it’s just a coincidence that the opera happens to be the exact one you said you’d love to see someday, when you had money and time, neither of which you currently have?”

“Coincidences happen. Plus, I didn’t exactly say these to him. It was in a conversation with Caroline and Rose.”

“A conversation that happened in your office which happens to be inside his office.”

I huffed after another dress proved to be a failure. “Like I said, Anna, it’s purely a coincidence. I didn’t even know it was showing.”

“Exactly.” I could hear the exasperation in her voice.

I paused, looking over my shoulder to find her watching me. “Whatever happened to being my personal stylist and helping me figure this out?”

Anna dragged herself from the bed and began shuffling through my wardrobe. “I’m simply saying a man like Kazimir didn’t stumble into the opera by accident.”

“Which is why I’ve been trying to drill it into your skull that we were meeting a client.”

Kazimir hadn’t used those exact words. Plainly speaking, he had sent me an email to dress the part and be present at the orchestra. The exact tone his messages for out-of-town trips came in.

In my excitement, I didn’t bother checking what was showing and flew straight into picking an outfit.

I’d scrolled through the internet searching for outfit inspiration and quickly realized this wasn’t a task I could execute on my own, necessitating Anna’s presence.

Unlike me, Anna loved to dig, and when she found out Hamilton was showing, which was a rare occurrence in cinemas, she refused to drop it.

I refused to indulge her, knowing well I would be gutted if I let her fill my head with wishful thinking and I walked in to find Nikolai, Lev, Rose and a few grey-haired men. The disappointment would sting way more than I was willing to admit.

Kazimir didn’t hint at anything and I would not be making anything out of it.

“Here.” Anna pulled out a black cocktail dress I’d passed over three times in my search.

I scrunched my nose. “Isn’t that too plain?”

“Yes. Which is why your tits, hair and jewelry will be the accessories.” She tossed the dress at me and went to my vanity to pull out a couple of silver pieces of jewelry.

I could already see the outfit coming together and cursed myself for not figuring it out earlier.

“You’re allowed to just say it, you know,” Anna said, drawing my attention. “You’re allowed to admit that the man who scares you a little is also the same man who made you soup and texted you jokes during a business meeting, and said man also got opera tickets specifically because he knew it would make you happy. None of those things are crimes.”

“I never said they were crimes.”

“You’re treating them like crimes. You’ve got a look that says you’d rather believe in flying pigs than the possibility of Kazimir liking you.”

“At least believing in a flying pig won’t hurt me,” I blurted before I could stop myself.

“So that’s what this is about, fear?”