Page 133 of Taken By My Grumpy Pakhan

“Or he got proper guidance and realized it was in his best interest that this stayed as contained as it could. Svet is a disgrace.”

“I am aware, but—”

“He lost. And he knows it. He doesn’t even know where she is.”

“And how exactly do you know that?”

“Because he’s making no negotiations on disciplining her and returning her better.”

The door swung open and he reappeared with his second in command and son in tow. All three wearing scowls of different levels.

He held out a paper. “Here it is.”

Nikolai took the document, perusing it before taking a picture. “It’s for the lawyer.” He flashed a toothy grin, handing the paper to me. “Now we wait.”

I read the content; it was brief and precise, stating the annulment and also reaffirming its peaceful and mutual nature and the decision to continue business regardless. It seemed to have been printed before our arrival.

Nikolai’s phone pinged and he checked it before turning to give me a nod.

I took a pen from my pocket and signed my end of the sheet.

Svetlana’s father signed, then Nikolai and Vasily signed as witnesses, and it was concluded.

“Nice doing business with you, gentlemen.” Nikolai's voice rang out as I made my way out of the library.

I alerted Lev on the peaceful nature of the deal and headed for the car with Nikolai in tow.

“Feel any different?” he asked the moment we pulled out of the resort.

“No,” I said, and it was true. There was no grief in it, no relief either, just the quiet of a debt finally paid. “Should I?”

“Fifteen years is fifteen years,” he said. “Even you’re allowed to feel something about it.”

“The only thing I feel is that it took a kidnapping to make me do what I should have done the day I met Genevieve,” I said.

Nikolai glanced over at me, something almost like approval in it. “Then let’s go home and see if she’ll let you prove it.”

I looked out the window at the lights of a city that wasn’t mine, thinking of the one that was, and of the woman in it who wanted nothing to do with me.

Cutting Svetlana loose was the easy part. What came next would take considerably more than a signature.

Chapter Thirty-Three

Genevieve

Knock, knock.

The double taps had become a sound I had come to dread, but somehow accepted as a part of my everyday routine.

In spite of the mild irritation I felt, I made my way to the door knowing it would continue for hours if I didn’t interfere.

The delivery boy held out a fresh bouquet of roses, cream-colored this time, wrapped in the same brown paper as all the others. I took them without a word and stepped back to let the door close behind me.

I held the new bouquet, glancing around my apartment to figure out where I could fit the latest addition.

My apartment had stopped looking like mine weeks ago. Roses sat on every surface that could hold a vase—the kitchen counter, the windowsill, the little table by the door—some of them wilting now, petals curling brown at the edges.

After getting an immediate replacement every time I discarded some, I gave up on the option.