Page 104 of Taken By My Grumpy Pakhan

His gaze raked over me, leaving trails of heat on my skin.

His companion didn’t bother to disguise his interest. He immediately held out an arm to me, eyes twinkling with something I wasn’t interested in placing. “Hello, Miss…”

Before I could shake his hand and fill up the space he left, Kazimir’s hand clasped around his. The man’s face instantly went red.

“That’ll be all, Conan.”

The man scrambled away, leaving me in shock and confusion.

“I thought… isn’t that… is he not the client?”

“Client?” Kazimir echoed, brows drawn together.

“Never mind,” I said, deciding I preferred a client I was yet to meet over one who undressed me with his eyes.

“You look beautiful,” he said, completely taking me by surprise.

“Thank you.” I glanced past him, trying to shake off the weirdness of the situation. “Where’s everyone else?”

“Everyone else?”

“Your security. Nikolai. Rose? I assumed this would come with an entourage.” I tried to keep my voice light, despite his compliment still lodged in my chest like a nestled animal.

“They won’t be needed tonight.” He said it simply, like it was the most natural thing in the world. “This isn’t that kind of evening.”

I wanted to ask what kind of evening it was, exactly, if not the kind that required his usual safeguards, but some instinct told me pressing further would only make him retreat into the careful, evasive answers he gave when a question got too close to something he wasn’t ready to discuss.

So I didn’t press, only slipped my arm through the one he offered as we walked toward the entrance together.

The lobby was a glittering crush of velvet and gold leaf, chandeliers dripping light across a marble floor polished to a mirror shine, and despite myself, despite the doubts I’d been nursing about every layer of this evening since Anna first started teasing me about it, I felt something in my chest loosen at the sheer beauty of the place and the possibility of what the night meant.

I’d seen pictures of this opera house online, late at night, scrolling through listings, but standing in the midst of it, I could boldly say this was one of the few moments where the picture didn’t do justice.

“This is incredible,” I said, unable to keep the wonder out of my voice as I took in the painted ceiling above us, cherubs and clouds rendered in faded gold and blue.

“It’s better from the box.” Kazimir guided me toward a private staircase tucked away from the main crowd.

The box he led me to overlooked the stage from an angle that felt both intimate and impossibly grand, red velvet seats arranged for two, a clear view down into the orchestra pit where musicians were already beginning to tune their instruments and some of the performers hung around.

I settled into my seat and wanted to take a picture, something to immortalize the moment, but I noticed the obvious lack of cameras.

The people here were refined, used to space, and I couldn’t afford to stick out like a sore thumb.

A shutter followed by a flash pulled my attention to Kazimir inspecting his screen carefully.

“Did you just take a photo of me?”

“You looked like you needed one.” He handed me the phone and I saw the most stunning angle of my face, lips slightly parted and eyes wide with wonder.

I was thankful for the dim lights hiding my embarrassment. “I look like a child in Disneyland.”

“You look perfect.”

I swallowed thickly, not knowing what to do with the comment.

Thankfully, the orchestra began, saving me from having to come up with a response.

I let the music pull my attention away from the question of what tonight actually was, a client event or something else entirely.