Page 26 of Bought By the Ruthless Pakhan

She wanted to finish her degree. I could support that—even if she went back to New York, I could buy a condo near campus. We could still see each other.

It would also keep her away from this conflict with Nadia. More importantly—

I was afraid if she stayed any longer, we'd completely fall apart.

I'd never felt my wealth meant much before, but in this moment, just knowing I could arrange everything for her gave me a satisfaction I'd never felt.

Yes.

That's what I'd do.

That evening, Dmitri sent an email. He'd already picked out several properties in New York. He wanted me to choose which ones I liked, fly over to inspect them, then close the deals.

I saved the attachments to my desktop, planning to show her tomorrow.

A message popped up on screen.

"Ivan, just got word—Sergei's causing trouble on our turf again. You need to get here now."

Chapter Eight

Anna

I tossed and turned, couldn't sleep.

Maybe I should've never stayed here in the first place.

I never thought Ivan would doubt me. Never imagined Nadia would throw me under the bus.

Ivan...

He'd brought me home, bandaged my wounds, gave me a roof where I could sleep without fear. He'd thrown me a birthday party in the garden—candlelight flickering in his eyes, violin drifting through the flowers. I thought, I really thought, we were different.

But how could we be?

At the end of the day, I was still an outsider. Some broke girl he'd picked up on a whim. Sure, he gave me a place to crash, but he'd never let me touch his boundaries.

Even when it was all fake.

He wouldn't even give me basic trust. Wouldn't let me leave either. He wanted to keep me in place, play by his rules. What did that make me? Some obedient cat? A potted plant shoved in the corner?

It wasn't fair.

I couldn't keep living by his terms. This wasn't my home. I couldn't nail myself to this spot just because of some pathetic attachment.

I crawled out of bed, yanked open the closet, pulled out my few pieces of clothing, folded them one by one, stuffed them in my suitcase.

When I zipped it shut, my eyes drifted to the back of the closet—that suit jacket still hung there, the one he'd draped over me the day he brought me back.

I was angry at him. Angry at myself. But I still pulled it down, hugged it close, buried my face in it and breathed deep.

That scent was still there.

Faint cedar mixed with tobacco. The most comforting smell I'd ever known.

I folded it carefully, tucked it in the bottom of my suitcase.

The only piece of him I could steal away.