Page 30 of The Pakhan’s Hidden Heir

“You’re going to spoil me rotten then wonder why I’m impossible.” I grin at him, smiling up at that handsome rugged face, and he almost cracks a smile.

“I already wonder why you’re impossible,” Bastian mutters, but there is no animosity in it at all. He’s almost playful.

I press my cheek to his shoulder for just a second before I let go and drift on to the next thing—a scarf in the same soft gray as the cardigan, which I wind around my neck.

He watches me, and a flicker of desire washes through his eyes.

“Well?” I ask, arms spread. “How do I look?”

“Like a woman who’s about to make me buy a scarf.” He lifts the tail of it off my shoulder and lets it fall again.

“I haven’t decided.” This feels more like a date than anything we’ve done so far, and I’m feeling like I’m riding an emotional high, despite being overly tired for the past few days.

“So you don’t want it?” His brows lift before he holds out his hand for it, palm up, waiting. Just another gesture of his goodwill toward me, which he’ll deny means anything but we both know he’s lying.

When we finally leave, one of Akim’s men trails behind us with the bags, and another other stays a few paces ahead.

Bastian walks me down the center of the plaza with my hand tucked back into the crook of his arm.

The afternoon light is melting into soft yellows and golds, and I feel loose and happy and light on my feet.

“Where’s my money, anyway?” I ask. “You keep buying me everything. I have a whole account sitting there, and you won’t let me spend a single cent of it.”

“Because you shouldn’t have to.” He guides me around a puddle without breaking stride. “That money is yours to keep, not to spend on things I can buy you myself. When this is over, you’re supposed to have that to start your life back up.”

I almost wince at that thought because for the past five weeks it’s been the farthest thing from my mind.

Start what life back up?

I have no life.

Lada is there, but my grandmother isn’t, and I have no home to go back to.

I could go to school or find a job, but it isn’t like I’m returning to anything grand.

In fact, I’ve gotten so used to being around him and having him care for me I almost don’t want to go back.

He did mention that if things were going well after our child is at an age he or she can be independent of me, that we could discuss forward steps, but it hardly seems like the time to bring that up.

I get lost for a moment while we’re walking, thoughts taking over my consciousness.

Then Bastian clears his throat, bringing me back to the present and I lean into him again.

“Most men aren’t like you. You know?”

“I’m not most men,” he says calmly, and it hits me square in the chest, so profoundly.

I’d like to offer a compliment, about how he’s more incredible than most men, but I’m sure it wouldn’t land right.

He’s not the sentimental type, or the kind of man who gushes his feelings.

But the thought lingers there at the tip of my tongue, cementing in my mind how amazing he is and only makes me fall harder.

We pass a bakery tucked into the corner of the plaza, and the window is full of things I probably shouldn’t eat. But I crave them. My body has decided it must have sugar, so I stop dead in front of it and tug him to a halt with me.

“Bastian.”

“No.”