Page 23 of The Pakhan’s Unwanted Bride

"So this is about defying him." I take a step toward her. "You're using me to rebel against Daddy's orders."

"I'm not using anyone." Another step closer. We're almost touching now. "I'm trying to survive a situation neither of us wanted."

"Then stop complaining about the accommodations." My voice drops lower. "You have a roof over your head, food, safety. What more do you want?"

"I want you to stop treating me like an inconvenience." Her chin lifts. "I want you to acknowledge that this engagement affects both of us. I want⁠—"

"What?" I invade her space completely now, close enough to see the gold flecks in her brown eyes. "What do you want from me, Princess?"

She doesn't back down. Instead, she holds her ground and meets my gaze with equal intensity. "I want you to stop pretending you're not attracted to me."

The words hang in the air between us. The tension from the kiss in my office resurfaces immediately, crackling like electricity. I can see her pulse beating in her throat, fast and hard. Her lips are slightly parted, and I remember exactly how they tasted.

"You're playing a dangerous game," I say quietly.

"Maybe I like danger." Her voice is barely above a whisper. "Maybe that's why I can't stop thinking about you." She pauses, her lips firming slightly. "But that doesn't mean I want to marry you."

For a long moment, neither of us moves. We stand there in my study, close enough to touch, both of us refusing to be the first to break. The air feels thick, charged with everything we're not saying.

Then Ana steps back, breaking the spell. "I should go. It's late."

She moves toward the door, and I let her. But the doorway is narrow, and when she passes, her body brushes against mine. Just for a second. Just long enough for me to feel the curve of her hip and the softness of her breast brushing against my arm.

My hand shoots out before I can think, catching her wrist. She stops immediately, turning to look at me. Her eyes are wide, her breathing shallow.

Neither of us lets go.

13

ANA

Ifreeze the moment his fingers close around my wrist. The contact sends electricity racing up my arm, and for several seconds, neither of us moves. We stand there in the narrow doorway, caught between leaving and staying, between sense and… stupidity.

I can feel the heat radiating from his body. He's close enough that I notice the tension in his jaw, the way his breathing has gone rough and uneven. Everything about this moment feels dangerous, like standing at the edge of a cliff and wondering what it would feel like to fall.

I should pull away. Walk back to my suite, lock the door, and pretend this never happened. That would be the smart thing to do. The safe thing. But apparently I'm not that smart right now, and the last thing on my mind is safety.

Instead, I lift my chin and meet his gaze with a look that shows I'm not afraid of him. Heat starts to climb from my throat, but I ignore it.

"Let go," I say quietly.

"You first." His voice is low, rough.

"I'm not the one holding on."

"You're not trying very hard to leave."

The argument resumes immediately, picking up exactly where we left off. But something has shifted. The more we argue, the closer we drift. Every insult feels charged with sexual tension. His thumb brushes against the inside of my wrist, and I wonder if he can feel my pulse racing.

"You're impossible," I tell him.

"You're spoiled."

"You're arrogant."

"You're entitled."

"At least I'm honest about what I want." And right now, I want him. But I don't tell him that. Instead, I continue the argument, talking about crap that really doesn't make any sense, even to me. "I'm not the one pretending this engagement is some noble sacrifice."