Page 86 of Taken By My Grumpy Pakhan

My fury had dulled into a hint of worry and before I knew it, I walked to him, positioning myself between the sink and his hard body.

“I don’t need help,” he grumbled when I took his hand but didn’t retract.

“I didn’t ask,” I said, retrieving the small first aid kit on the counter close to the sink and began unwrapping the gauze.

I should turn the other way and run. I can no longer feign ignorance. Kazimir might not have offered explanations, but he also never hid a thing from me.

Three of his knuckles were split. I poured antiseptic over a cotton pad and pressed it gently to the wound, watching his jaw tighten in response.

“Sensitive for a man who runs a security empire,” I said, mostly to fill the silence.

“It stings.”

“Pain usually does that.”

A faint huff of air left him, not quite a laugh, but close enough that I counted it as a small victory. I worked in silence for a while, cleaning each cut and wrapping his knuckles in gauze with hands that were steadier than I expected, given that my heart was doing something erratic and embarrassing in my chest.

“You’re not going to ask,” he said eventually.

I glanced up at him. “Would you tell me if I did?”

“Maybe.”

“Then ask me what I think happened, and I’ll tell you, and you can correct me if I’m wrong.”

The corner of his mouth twitched, the closest thing to amusement I’d seen from him all day. “Go on, then.”

The shady meetings began to make sense, but what I couldn’t understand was why he felt the need to bring me along.

“I think you went somewhere you didn’t tell me about, because telling me would mean admitting it wasn’t just a meeting. I think someone said something you didn’t like, or did something you liked even less, and you handled it the way you handle everything. With your fists, because words are too slow for whatever you’re feeling.”

He was quiet for a long moment. “That’s fairly close.”

“How close?”

“Close enough for me to be convinced you’ve been taking notes.” Another moment passed and I was almost certain the conversation was done when he spoke, completely surprising me.

“A man in my organization felt he could play behind my back.”

Only one word caught my attention. “Organization?”

His lips twitched and he took his hand from me, examining my work. “Nice work. Sure you’ve never done this before?”

When I didn’t answer, he let out a sigh. “Let’s call it a different branch of the office, the unorthodox, less diplomatic version.”

I didn’t know what he was talking about, but I nodded. So long as it kept him talking.

“I don’t tolerate men who think my absence means my attention has wavered.”

He didn’t soften the word or dress it up for me. “Other times I have to be more creative. Tonight didn’t require creativity.”

“And the gun?”

His gaze flicked to the counter, to the weapon resting there like an afterthought. “Insurance. In case creativity failed.”

I should have felt sick. Some distant, sensible part of my brain told me I should be backing away right now, putting distance between myself and the man who’d just confirmed, in plain words, that the things I’d suspected about him were not exaggerations.

“You went shopping.” He changed the topic before I could come up with a response.