Page 35 of The Pakhan’s Hidden Heir

It grinds my gears to put up with this, but if it keeps him off my case I’ll do anything. “Fine. Do it. But when she’s complaining about it, you’re the one who has to babysit her.” My chest tightens as I add, “And tell her nothing about the threats. Do you understand?”

“Yes sir,” he says as he stalks toward the door.

I watch him go, still annoyed by the whole fiasco, but I can get back to work now.

If Akim is right, I’ve taken measures to protect myself and my heir. If not, the worst thing to happen is Raina being a little lonely.

But she’ll be safe.

That’s what I’m banking on.

12

RAINA

Ingrid folds the last of my new blouses over her arm, pressing the cream fabric flat before she sets it into a dresser.

This room is nice, but it’s not what I’m used to. It doesn’t feel like home the way Bastian’s room felt, and it doesn’t smell like him.

“There now,” she says, patting the top of the drawer where my clothes are now stacked, moved from down the hall to here, where I don’t want to be. “You’ve got everything you could want, and you’re only just down the hall if there’s a single thing you need.”

I lower myself onto the edge of the bed, which is made up in soft gray linens, and stare at the bare walls and the floor length mirror on its wooden stand. “He really had you do this?” I gesture at the room, hoping she doesn’t pick up on the hint of sadness in my tone. I don’t know why he’s doing this. We were getting along so well.

“He did.” She squeezes my shoulder on her way past. I get the idea that she understands this comes as a shock to me, but I don’t think she realizes I’ve fallen for him, fully and helplessly. “Now you rest. You’ve had a long few days, and you’re growing a whole person.”

Ingrid floats to the door, looking back over her shoulder at me.

I feel the pity in her expression, but she says nothing to me about it. When she mutters, “Is the room good for you?” I suck in a breath and sigh.

“It’s a lovely room,” I tell her. I don’t quite know what else to say. Should I whine and demand to be in Bastian’s room still, when he, himself, gave the order for me to have my own room?

I was shocked when he brought me to his room to begin with just two and a half months ago.

He probably thinks this is what I want.

But how can he?

He has to see how much I’ve fallen for him.

“Do you need anything else?” She pauses in the doorway, looking back at me with more pity evident in her eyes, but I don’t bother responding. “You call for me if you need anything at all, you hear? Any hour.”

When she’s gone, I finally let my chest deflate and curl into a ball on my side, staring at the plain white wall. Bastian’s room was so warm and decorated.

It smelled of his cologne and the body wash he uses. The sheets were silky smooth and the pillows extra fluffy, and this bed is stiff and cold, not at all like his.

I want my room back, and my comfort, and I want to know why he sent me away after holding me every single night for months.

I’m still lying there, smoothing the edge of the bedspread with my fingers, when the door opens again without a knock.

I push myself up to a sitting position as Akim stalks into the room with his chest puffed out and his eyes boring into me accusingly.

I’ve never liked him really, but ever since I told Bastian I’m pregnant Akim has been so much worse.

It’s like he’s taken it upon himself to micromanage me at every turn and I feel trapped around him.

“Give me your phone,” he says, holding out one open hand.

I look up at him, certain I’ve misheard, my fingers curling over the pocket where it hides. “My phone? Why would you need my phone?”