Page 57 of Bought By the Ruthless Pakhan

But just because I stayed silent didn't mean Ivan would.

He chuckled behind me, casual. "Because I needed to understand you and your mom properly. That takes time."

Alex perked up, practically bouncing. "So do you understand now?"

Ivan raised an eyebrow, his gaze sliding past Alex's head and landing on me.

"Absolutely. Got a very thorough understanding."

Chapter Fifteen

Anna

What was he saying?

How could he joke like that in front of Alex?

I couldn't help but glare at him again.

Ivan's smile deepened, but he didn't push it further—he bent down, his fingertips brushing the top of Alex's head. "Come on, let me check your homework."

Alex's attention snapped away instantly. "Okay! I just drew a new picture."

The two of them headed into the small room, one after the other.

Alex bounced along, his slippers slapping against the floor.

I stood there watching their backs disappear through the doorway, hearing Alex chattering away in a low voice, Ivan murmuring a response, then the sound of a pencil case being opened.

I pinched the bridge of my nose, trying to push down that hot flush of embarrassment in my chest, but it wouldn't sink. It sat there like a burning coal between my ribs, stuck.

Calm down, I told myself.

Everything he was doing—it was because he knew who Alex was. An impulse born of blood, nothing more.

Guilt, maybe. Responsibility. But not because of me.

What just happened was nothing but the most basic impulse between a man and a woman.

I couldn't let any of this mess up the life I'd barely managed to piece together.

I moved toward Alex's bedroom door. It wasn't closed. He sat at his little desk, holding up a blue crayon, excitedly pointing at the drawing spread out in front of him for Ivan to see.

On the paper were three blob-like figures holding hands, wobbly and colored all over.

"See, this one with long hair is Mommy, this little one is me, and this tall one—"

I knocked on the doorframe, cutting him off.

"Mr. Volkov, you should head home."

Alex turned to look at me, his mouth immediately dropping into a pout, his whole little face collapsing. "Mommy, let's have Ivan stay for dinner. Let him try your cooking."

When he called "Mommy," he dragged out the end of the word. Pure wheedling.

My hand tightened on the doorframe, the refusal stuck in my throat, going neither up nor down.

Ivan sat in that little chair, his knees folded awkwardly, looking uncomfortable, but his gaze lifted from the drawing and landed on my face. A faint smile played at the corners of his eyes, something I couldn't quite read.