Page 42 of Taken By My Grumpy Pakhan

“Get over yourself. The world does not revolve around you. I will talk to whoever I want to, flirt with who I want to, and wear whatever I want to work. No part of my actions has anything to do with you.”

His lips twitched. “So if I turned the car around, got you a ride and took Svetlana home, you wouldn't be gutted?”

“I was about to ask why you were here and not riding off to paradise with her in your chariot of lies and deception. I couldn’t give a demented fuck about—”

Strong hands wrapped around my throat, killing off the rest of my speech, and before I knew it, I was jerked forward and hot lips sealed over mine.

Chapter Eleven

Kazimir

“You have a baby tree?” she gasped at the bonsai tree in the right corner of the living room.

An odd warmth climbed my neck. “It’s not a baby tree, it was recommended by the interior decorator.”

That was a bald-faced lie. I had designed every inch of this building, from the foundation to the choice of wood for the furniture. It was my sanctuary and now she was running around it and sniffing the tree like a goddamn koala. I was beginning to doubt my decision to bring her here.

She turned to me with a taunting smile. “Liar. You’re a tree dad.”

The words hit me smack in the face and the heat from earlier climbed higher. “I am not a dad to anything.”

“But the leaves are well trimmed, the branches are so polished and… wait,” her eyes widened like she just discovered the secret of the universe. “Is that a name?”

Fuck me sideways.

“You named your tree?”

“That was to keep it from getting mixed up while it was—you know what, get over here, you’re drunk.”

“I’m not drunk, I’m having fun with…” she squinted at the tree. “Dusha? What does that mean?”

If I gritted my molars any further, they might turn to dust. “Told you it was a random name to identify it,” I gritted out. “I’ll get all the details from the interior decorator.”

Her smile widened, a glint dancing in her eyes as she lifted her hand to the tree. Her eyes were on me, but I could only focus on her fingers wrapping around a tiny leaf hanging off a branch.

“Don’t.” My voice came out strained and heavy.

Her smile turned into a full-blown grin. “You look too tense over a random tree recommended by some decor guy.”

I swallowed tightly, my eyes not leaving her hand. “I don’t enjoy people plucking leaves from my tree.”

“So it’s your tree.”

“I paid for it, so it’s mine.”

“That’s it? You paid so it’s yours and not because it’s your emotional support greenery?”

The fuck was I doing acting like a kid with his hand caught in the cookie jar?

I slowly lifted my eyes from her hand, trailing a path up her arms to her face. “Paid or not, no one touches what I consider mine.”

Her amusement faltered a little. “So you’re a tree daddy, then?”

“Fuck's sake.” I couldn’t tell if it was the smokiness in her voice when she said daddy or the fact that my breath had been shallow since she wrapped her dainty fingers around the leaf. Maybe it was both, but I’d covered the distance between us in a second and released the leaf from her hold before I figured out the answer.

The tightness in my airways softened.

“That’s it, I’m taking your drunk ass to bed.”