Page 12 of The Pakhan’s Hidden Heir

This is really real, and it’s happening really fast.

Ingrid pouts for a second and sets the tray to the side, coming over to take both of my hands. “Oh dear, look at you. I’m so sorry. That’s a lot to lay on your shoulders, isn’t it, sweetheart?”

I don’t answer her because I’m too busy trying to fight back the wave of doubt that has just attacked me. She pats the bed and we both sit, and I manage to get my hands back from her grasp.

“Look, breakfast is at seven a.m. sharp daily, but I will hold it for you if you send me a message to let me know what time you’ll take it. Though, Mr. Dravenko may want you to dine with him from time to time. And lunch will be around noon daily.” She goes on to lay out the entire home’s schedule of waking and sleeping, meals, guard rotations, Bastian’s work, and it’s a lot to take in. When she says, “And there will be a seamstress here to fit you for whatever you want to wear,” my eyes go wide.

“Seamstress?”

“Of course, you can go to the store to purchase things, but Mr. Dravenko prefers haute couture.” She smiles as she pats my hand. “Oh you’ll look lovely in a beautiful bespoke wardrobe, dear. And don’t fuss over the cost. He is covering every need you have while you stay. You want something”—she waves her hand in the air—“I’ll get it for you.” The grin that lights up her face is catching. I find myself smiling too.

“A book to read? Call me. One of those fancy pastries from the bulochnaya, I’ll make it happen.” Then her whole face lights up. “And if you like music, you can visit the conservatory on the first floor. Or if books are your pleasure, Mr. Dravenko has a library that houses more than three thousand titles.”

My head is spinning again, but now in a good way. A man so wealthy he has his own music room to host private concerts and library to store all his favorite books? And he can afford a million dollars to pay a random stranger to carry his baby?

“He told you to come tell me this?” I can’t believe what I’m hearing. He sounds more kind and generous than an imaginary fairy godfather.

He could’ve stuck me in a boring, tiny room, with no windows and no entertainment, but he’s offering me his entire home?

“Oh yes, dear. Mr. Dravenko wants you to be well cared for and happy.” She pats my hand again and smiles as she stands.

“Ingrid,” I ask before she picks up her tray.

“Mmm,” she responds, spinning around to flash another smile at me.

“Is he a good man?” I pause, feeling like an idiot. I should’ve asked this before I offered to have a child with a man I don’t know a thing about.

Clearly he’s wealthy—enough so that he wants to buy an heir for himself and keep his DNA private from men who may want to abuse him somehow.

But powerful men often have dark secrets.

But I’m going to have a child with him if our bodies cooperate, and I want to know what sort of father that child will have.

Her face softens and a look of understanding washes over it. She stops by the door and turns to face me fully, hugging the tray to her chest.

She’s probably not much older than me, or so she seems, given how incredible her complexion is, but when she speaks, it’s with authority. “I’ve worked for Mr. Dravenko since I was fifteen years old. In that time I’ve seen him have his bad moments, sure, but I’ve seen him shine.

“He lost his wife tragically, and it changed him slightly. He’s a bit more withdrawn than he ever was with her, but he’s a good man. He’s honest, and he’s fair. He’s generous too—which you don’t find with men who have the kind of wealth he has. Does that answer your question?” Ingrid’s eyebrows rise expectantly as I feel a wave of fatigue wash over me. Whatever he did to my body when he touched me has made me start to feel sleepy and worn out.

“Yes, thank you.” I didn’t expect her to come right out and say he’s a monster, but if he has dark secrets I’d like to know them.

“I’ll find you when it’s lunch time.” She looks down at the smart watch on her wrist. “About forty minutes?”

I glance over at the sprawling bed and sigh. “Make it an hour?” I ask, feeling very unused to having a wait staff at my beck and call. I could get used to this.

“Done. We’ll have a light lunch today, salads and bread. Unless you’d like something heavier?”

“I’m fine, Ingrid,” I say, finding myself smiling at her. I like her; she’s been helpful and kind. But right now I want to nap.

“Ma’am,” she says, slipping out and shutting the door behind her.

I kick off my shoes and slither up the bed to Bastian’s pillow where I rest my head.

It smells like him, and honestly we’re going to have words about this sleeping arrangement because I like sleeping closer to the door. Anything else he can have the way he wants it.

My eyes flutter shut and I’m instantly plunged back into my swirling hesitation.

So many things about this arrangement scream at me to stop and think, but there is so much good here too. It’s like he’s treating me like a queen, having his staff offer anything and everything I want, to live in luxury at his expense for the next two years, all while paying me a million dollars I can walk away from this with and never look back.