Page 15 of Forced to Marry the Russian Pakhan

“Five minutes,” he counters. “That’s all I need. Then you can go back to your patients.”

“No.”

His eyes darken. “Five minutes for a conversation outside, or I make a scene. Your choice, Doctor.”

My eyes dart to the other patrons. Two elderly women. A mother with a toddler. College kids with laptops. Innocent people who have no idea they’re sharing space with a man who plays with guns.

I swallow hard. Five minutes. Just five minutes, and he’ll leave me alone. I can handle that. I can handle him.

I’m lying to myself again.

“Fine,” I say through gritted teeth. “Five minutes.”

I follow him out, pulse jackhammering against my ribs, every step fueled by regret. Stupid. So stupid. But what choice did I have? Cause a scene? Risk innocent people getting caught in whatever storm follows this man around?

The narrow alley beside the coffee shop is quiet—just dumpsters, loading doors, cracked pavement. He leads me toward a sleek black car parked at the curb, glancing casually over his shoulder like this is normal.

Every instinct screams this is wrong.

“Five minutes,” I remind him, voice tight. “And I swear, if you lay a finger on me—”

He laughs. “Relax, Doctor. We’re just talking.”

But then his hand wraps around my wrist, and the next thing I know, the car door is open, and I’m being shoved inside.

“What the hell—” The coffee hits the ground, and my feet scrape the pavement, sneakers skidding, but he’s faster,stronger. His grip locks like steel around my arm, and I’m half-tossed into the passenger seat before I can blink.

The door slams shut.

Panic detonates in my chest.

I lunge for the handle, but it doesn’t open, and he’s already rounding the hood. My hand fumbles uselessly at the latch, my heartbeat roaring in my ears as the driver’s side door rips open, and Trifon slides in beside me.

“Let me out!” I slam my palms against the door, against the glass. “Are you insane? I have patients—my shift isn’t over—”

“Yes, your three o’clock rounds.” He puts the car in drive and pulls away from the curb. “And the staff meeting at five.”

A chill races down my spine. “How do you—”

“I know everything about you.”

“Stop the car,” I demand, panic rising. “Let me out now, or I swear to God—”

“You’ll what?” He glances at me, one eyebrow raised. “Jump out again? I’m better prepared this time around.”

“Where are you taking me?” I try again, fingers gripping the edge of the seat. “My shift isn’t over. I can’t just disappear—they’ll call the police.”

“No, they won’t,” he says with maddening confidence. “Your fellow doctor—Dr. Chen, is it?—thinks you’ve gone homesick. Food poisoning, very unfortunate.”

The bottom drops out of my stomach. “You talked to my attending?”

“I had someone call on your behalf.”

“You had—” I sputter, rage finally overcoming fear. “Are you insane? You can’t just—that’s my job! My career! Who the hell do you think you are?”

He takes a sharp turn, unfazed by my outburst. “The man who saved your life three nights ago. You’re welcome, by the way.”

“Saved my—” I nearly choke. “You’re the reason I was in danger in the first place! You and your—your gangster friends, shooting up a hospital parking lot!”