Page 67 of Bought By the Ruthless Pakhan

"Talk later?" Chris laughed, hollow and bitter. "Anna, you can't do this to me. You know—"

"Hey."

I flicked ash, stepped forward, blocked his view.

"Kid, feelings don't work that way. Being good to someone doesn't mean they owe you love. She doesn't love you. That's obvious."

I didn't want to hear his heartfelt confession. Didn't want to watch him lay out his soul. And I sure as hell didn't want Anna going soft because of it.

Chris's face went red, from neck to ears. "This is between me and Anna. You have no right—"

"No right?"

I raised an eyebrow, glanced down at my chest. Scratches crisscrossed my skin, deep and shallow, stark in the morning light.

I laughed low in my throat, looked back at him slowly. "I spent last night in her bed. And you're calling me an outsider?"

That hit harder than any weapon.

Chris's face went from red to ashen. His lips pressed into a thin line. His jaw locked.

Finally, he looked away.

"I understand, Anna. I'm just worried he'll hurt you. He doesn't look like a good man."

Listen to that. I wasn't a good man, sure. But I didn't need some kid passing judgment.

"I don't need your assessment." I gestured at Anna. "And she doesn't need your concern."

Chris crushed the breakfast bag in his fist, gave Anna one long look—resentment and hurt mixed together. In the end, he just set the bag on the table.

"Anna, if you need anything, call me anytime."

He turned and left.

I shook my head. Felt satisfaction surge through me.

With him gone, I was one step closer to Anna.

When I turned around, Anna had put on pajamas. Pale gray cotton, long sleeves, buttoned properly to the top. She sat against the headboard, knees drawn up, chin on her arms. She didn't look happy.

I reached to touch her face. She turned away.

"That was too much, Ivan."

I smiled, didn't argue. Bent down to pick up scattered clothes from the floor—her pajamas, my shirt, a sock that'd somehow ended up near the baseboard.

I folded them slowly, laid them over the chair.

"Too much?" I straightened, looked at her. "If I'd really been too much, you wouldn't have made it out of bed. Wouldn't have heard any knocking."

Anna's face went crimson, from cheeks to ears, like sunset burning across the sky.

She grabbed a pillow, threw it at me. "Shut up!"

I caught it, held it. "Fine. I'll shut up. Rest a bit. I'll make breakfast."

I headed for the kitchen. Behind me, Anna's voice sounded stunned. "You?"