Marat Arharov is Impertinent. Rude. Shameless. And my uncle’s friend— the one who’s supposed to look after me and protect me from a stalker.
But none of us suspected that something impersonal would suddenly become personal.
***
— I didn’t let you go, — a male voice says, completely not sleepy.
— D-didn’t you let me?
— At night you were more affectionate and talkative.
— Y-you… you confused me with someone else. I-I just came, I…
— You talk too much. Bad idea to dress like that—I want you again.
Don’t be afraid; I won’t shortchange you on money.
— Let me go! — she squeaks like a mouse.
— Stubborn, — he smirks. — I like games, baby, but not now.
Be good, darling, relax, and let your adult uncle relieve his tension.
— Let me go. I’m not like that… I’m my uncle Zakhар’s niece, — she whimpers.
— Don’t push it, — he narrows his eyes, doubtful.
— Your—!