Chapter 7
CHAPTER 7
Viktor
T here was too much at stake. How could there not be? He’d gambled for Sofia’s hand at a time when he couldn’t afford to indulge in his desires, and now he was feeling the consequences. As Viktor poured himself another glass of wine, he studied the grainy photo before him. He recognized that face, scarred and familiar, from a thousand miles away. Alexei Markov was a painful reminder of his past, and Viktor had allowed him to linger far too long. It was time to put an end to this.
Viktor pushed away from his desk and moved to the window. He could hear the faint hum of New York traffic, but across the horizon, there was only light. It was a beautiful night—one that could have remained so if not for the picture that had arrived.
The man was in town, and he was making a play for Viktor’s empire.
Fucker.
How many men like Alexei had thought they could take him down? And how many times had he proven them wrong? He would do it again with Alexei—if he could get his hands on that slimy bastard. Viktor swallowed the wine and smashed the glass against the wall in frustration. It shattered into a million pieces, and in the aftermath, he considered slamming his fist against the wall.
He hated it when people got under his skin. It was understandable, considering that if he let them, he’d end up six feet under. Viktor had built a formidable empire by never allowing anyone to get to him. But somehow, Alexei was doing just that.
A knock at the door pulled him from his thoughts. He didn’t need to look up to know it was Andrei; the man’s heavy tread was as familiar as the irritation that often accompanied him.
“Come in,” Viktor snapped.
Andrei entered, his broad shoulders filling the doorway. He carried himself with the confidence of a man who had earned his place at Viktor’s side, but today, there was a rigidity in his posture, a wariness that didn’t escape Viktor’s notice.
“What is it?” Viktor asked, gesturing for Andrei to speak.
Andrei closed the door behind him and stepped forward, arms crossed over his chest. “Alexei’s making moves,” he said. “More than we thought. Some of our men—” He paused, choosing his words carefully. “They’re listening to him.”
“Names.”
Andrei hesitated, a rare show of reluctance. “I don’t have them yet. But I will.”
“You’d better,” Viktor replied, his tone sharp enough to cut glass.
Andrei shifted, the hesitation returning. “There’s something else.”
Viktor raised an eyebrow, waiting.
“Sofia.”
The name hung between them, and Viktor’s expression darkened.
“What about her?”
Andrei didn’t flinch under Viktor’s scowl, but there was a pulse of something—disapproval, perhaps, or concern. “She’s a distraction, Viktor. We’ve got Alexei making moves, men questioning your leadership, and you’re—” He stopped himself, but the implication was clear.
“And I’m what, Andrei?”
Andrei held his ground. “You’re letting her get under your skin. I’ve seen it. Others will see it too. They’ll think you’re weak.”
The room went deathly quiet, the only sound the faint hum of the city outside. Viktor’s eyes bored into Andrei, his expression unreadable.
“Do I look weak to you?” Viktor finally asked, his tone soft but lethal.
Andrei looked up at him, but there was a dim of unease in his eyes now. “No,” he said quickly. “But perception matters. And right now, Alexei’s using every angle he can find. Don’t give him more ammunition.”
Viktor stood, the movement slow and deliberate. He walked around the desk, his every step measured, and stopped in front of Andrei. For a moment, he said nothing.
“Sofia is my wife,” Viktor said. “And whatever game Alexei thinks he’s playing, it has nothing to do with her.”
Andrei didn’t argue, but the doubt lingered in his eyes. Viktor saw it, and it ignited a spark of fury within him.
“You have your orders,” Viktor said, dismissing him with a sharp nod. “Find the names of the traitors and bring them to me. And Andrei?—”
Andrei paused at the door, turning back.
“Don’t bring up Sofia again.”
Andrei gave a curt nod and left without another word. Once the door closed, a sigh escaped Viktor's lips, his hands curling into fists at his sides. Andrei’s words lingered, needling at him in a way he hated to admit. Sofia wasn’t a distraction—she was a complication, yes, but not a weakness. He wouldn’t allow her to become one.
The ring of his phone startled him. Irritation flared as he reached for it, but the name on the screen sent a sliver of warmth into his chest. He answered and ran a hand through his hair as her voice came through clearly.
“Hello, brother,” she said in her usual high-pitched tone. Viktor smiled, recalling how chill his sister was. She was his only surviving family, and their bond, forged by past tragedy, was immense—he loved her with every fiber of his being. “How are you holding up without me around?”
“Dying, as you well know.”
She snorted. “If you could just grovel and beg me to come back, I might consider it.”
“Ah, not tonight,” he said with a smile he hoped she couldn’t detect in his voice. “You’d probably be a thorn in my side tonight.”
“True.” She sighed, and he allowed himself to revel in the silence, enjoying the warmth of her presence on the other end. Kat knew the intricacies of his world and had lived with him until a year ago, when she’d decided she needed more. Now, she was a private investigator under the name Amel. If that wasn’t a turn he wholeheartedly approved of, he didn’t know what else could be.
Still, he missed her. Dearly.
She broke the silence with, “I got a job looking for a runaway husband. The wife’s willing to pay hundreds to kill him for running away.”
Viktor was grateful for the distraction, even if she didn’t realize it yet. “How’s that coming along?”
She sucked in a breath. “My best bet is that he’s dead, likely killed by a disgruntled lover. I’ve been searching for him for over a week now and... still no luck. I’m usually pretty good at finding them.”
“I don’t doubt that.” She was damn good, but maybe that didn’t matter in the long run. “Well, if he’s anything like Alexei, I’m not sure you’ll be seeing him for a while.”
“That sleazy bastard.” It wasn’t a question; she already knew. She’d once tried to find him and eventually given up, convinced there was someone extremely powerful hiding him. “I’ve been hearing things about Alexei. He’s making promises he can’t keep, but that doesn’t matter to the desperate men who believe him.”
“I already know that,” Viktor said.
“Do you know he’s meeting with one of your suppliers next week? A man who’s been loyal to you for years?”
Viktor’s grip tightened on the phone. “Who?”
Kat hesitated. “I’ll send you the details. But Viktor—this isn’t just about loyalty anymore. Alexei isn’t just coming for your business; he’s coming for your reputation. If he can make people doubt you?—”
“They’ll regret it,” Viktor said coldly.
“I don’t doubt that,” Kat replied. “But be careful. You can’t afford to make any mistakes right now.”
Her words echoed in his mind even after the call ended, a reminder of the precarious balance Viktor was trying to maintain. He sat back down at his desk, his thoughts churning. There were too many pieces in play, too many threats to contain. But he would find a way. He always did.
As for Sofia… His thoughts drifted to her unbidden, and his jaw clenched. She was a part of this now, whether she wanted to be or not. And whether he admitted it or not, keeping her safe had become a priority he couldn’t ignore.
But there was no room for softness in his world, no room for weakness. He would protect her, yes, but he wouldn’t let her become his Achilles’ heel.
He couldn’t afford to.
The light outside Viktor’s penthouse was fading, the skyline bathed in shades of orange and gold. He arrived home later than usual, his mind a storm of calculations and contingency plans. The elevator doors opened directly into his space, revealing the expansive living room that should have felt like a sanctuary but instead carried the weight of a fortress under siege.
He had barely shrugged off his jacket when the faint sound of a page-turning caught his attention. His eyes narrowed, scanning the room until they landed on a sight that stopped him cold.
Sofia was curled on the couch, one leg tucked beneath her, her hair spilling over her shoulders like a dark river. She wore one of his shirts—white, crisp, and far too large for her slender frame. It hung off her shoulders, revealing the curve of her collarbone and just a hint of bare skin beneath. If she moved any further, there would be nothing left to the imagination, and Viktor wasn’t sure if he wanted that to happen.
In her hands was a book, one of the many leather-bound volumes from his personal collection. She seemed absorbed, her brow furrowed slightly as her fingers idly played with the hem of the shirt. The scene was domestic, almost absurdly so, but it was also something more. It was disarming.
Viktor was not a man easily caught off guard, but this—this was unexpected. The mere sight made his cock pulse with excitement.
He cleared his throat, and Sofia’s head snapped up, her eyes widening slightly before narrowing in suspicion.
“Do you make a habit of raiding my wardrobe?” Viktor asked his tone light but laced with an undercurrent of something sharper.
Sofia closed the book with deliberate slowness, setting it aside. “Do you make a habit of locking women in penthouses?”
The corner of Viktor’s mouth lifted in a faint smirk. “Touché.”
She stood, the shirt shifting with her movements, rubbing against her thighs in a way that made Viktor’s blood hum. It stopped mid-thigh, the hem threatening to raise each time she took a step. He stifled a moan and willed his cock not to stretch out so painfully in his pants. She was barefoot, her steps soft against the hardwood floor as she approached him.
“You’re late,” she said, her tone accusing.
“I wasn’t aware I had a curfew,” Viktor replied.
She crossed her arms, tilting her head to the side. “No, but I thought you might actually want to have a conversation instead of idling in your office or disappearing to God knows where.”
The defiance in her tone was like a spark to dry kindling. Viktor felt the familiar pull, the dangerous, addictive need to push her, to see how far she would go before she broke—or burned. She was barely aware of how short the shirt was. It was either that, or she was ignoring it, each move a reminder of how light the shirt was and how little it would take to shrug it off. Her nipples teased Vitor through the sheer fabric, as if daring him to take a peek.
He approached, closing the distance between them until she had to tilt her head back to meet his eyes. “And what would you like to talk about, Mrs. Ivanov?”
Her lips parted, but whatever retort she had died on her tongue. Viktor’s stare narrowed down, catching the faint tremor in her lower lip. It wasn’t fear—it was something else, something that mirrored the heat coiling low in his own stomach and the aching need in his groin.
“I don’t know,” she shrugged. “Maybe we could start with why you keep locking rooms in your own home. Or why do you have more security than most government buildings?”
Viktor chuckled, the sound low and rich. “Curiosity is a dangerous thing, Sofia.”
“Maybe,” she said, lifting her chin. “But I’m not afraid of you.”
Her pulse quickened beneath his touch, and Viktor found himself unable to resist the temptation any longer. His hand moved lower, tracing the soft curve of her breast through the fabric of the shirt. Sofia gasped, her eyes wide, but she didn’t pull away.
“Careful, Sofia,” Viktor murmured, his thumb grazing her nipple through the thin cotton. The sharp gasp escaping her lips was all the encouragement he needed to press closer, his free hand finding her hip and pulling her against him.
“You think you can provoke me with your games?” he asked, his lips so close to her ear. “You think I don’t see exactly what you’re doing?”
Sofia’s hands came up, her palms pressing against his chest, but it wasn’t a push—it was something else. Her fingers curled slightly, clutching at the fabric of his shirt as if anchoring herself.
“I have no reason to provoke you. I can barely stand you,” she whispered, the unsteadiness in her sound seeping out.
Viktor’s mouth curved into a dangerous smile. His lips grazed her temple, then lower, tracing a slow, deliberate path to the corner of her mouth. But just as his lips hovered over hers, Viktor stopped. His hand slid from her breast, releasing her hip. The sudden withdrawal was deliberate, a calculated move that left her trembling and unsatisfied.
Sofia’s eyes flew open, confusion and frustration warring in her expression. Viktor took a step back, the space between them heavy with everything he wasn’t saying.
“Go to bed, Sofia,” he said, sounding colder now, more measured.
She opened her mouth to argue, but he cut her off with a sharp look.
“Now,” he said, the single word a command that brooked no argument.
For a moment, she hesitated, her eyes searching his face for something—weakness, maybe, or an explanation. But whatever she saw seemed to satisfy her because she turned on her heel and walked away, her head held high.
Viktor watched her go, his fists clenching at his sides. He was playing a dangerous game, one that threatened to consume them both. His legs ushered him up into his study, his mind weaving an intricate pattern in his head. The night outside was quiet, but Viktor’s thoughts were anything but. He poured himself a glass of vodka, the clear liquid catching the light as he stared out over the city skyline. Below him, New York pulsed with life, the chaos of its streets a mirror to the turmoil brewing within his own organization.
Alexei. Andrei. Even Konstantin. The pieces on the board were shifting, and Viktor was at the center of it all, holding the strings tighter than ever. But it wasn’t the chessboard of his empire that occupied his mind now.
It was her.
Sofia.
She was a fire he couldn’t extinguish, a spark that threatened to ignite something uncontrollable within him. The feel of her against him earlier, the way her body responded to his touch even as her words defied him—it was intoxicating. He wanted her in ways that defied logic, ways that made him question his own influence.
Viktor drained the glass in one sharp motion and set it down with a definitive clink. His penthouse, with its cold elegance and sharp lines, suddenly felt suffocating. The modern furniture, the meticulously curated art pieces, the expansive glass walls—they were all reflections of the life he had built. A life of power, precision, and dominance.
But tonight, for the first time in years, he felt a crack in it.
The sound of faint footsteps broke through his thoughts. He turned his head, his sharp focus locking onto Sofia as she appeared at the edge of the living room. She had changed—his shirt replaced by a silk camisole and shorts that left her legs bare.
“What are you doing here?” he asked, his tone sharper than he intended.
Sofia paused, her arms crossing over her chest in a gesture that was equal parts defensive and challenging. “Couldn’t sleep,” she said simply.
She moved toward him, her steps hesitant at first but gaining confidence with each one. Viktor stayed where he was, his tall frame a silhouette against the city lights.
“Is that a problem?” she asked, tilting her head as she stopped a few feet away.
Viktor’s lips pressed into a thin line. “Everything you do seems to be a problem.”
Her mouth quirked, a shadow of a smirk playing on her lips. “Then maybe you should stop paying attention.”
He got closer, his movements deliberate. “You’re making it impossible not to.”
Sofia felt his warmth as he closed the distance between them.
Viktor’s eyes narrowed. His hand reached out, pushing a strand of hair from her face, his touch lingering just long enough to make her tremble in pleasure.
“Careful, Sofia,” he murmured. “You’re playing with fire.”
“Maybe I like the heat,” she shot back, but a tremor betrayed the war raging within her.
His hand moved lower, tracing the line of her neck, his fingers skimming over the delicate curve of her collarbone. She didn’t move, didn’t pull away. The scent of her reached him then—something soft and floral, mingling with the warmth of her skin. It was dizzying, a subtle assault on his senses that made it impossible to think clearly. His fingers continued their path, grazing the exposed skin of her shoulder, the silky fabric of her camisole barely a barrier between them.
He shouldn’t do this. Every rational part of his mind screamed at him to stop, to step back, to reassert dominance. But that was slipping through his fingers like water, and all he could think about was the way her lips had felt beneath his in the heat of their first kiss, the way her body had melted underneath him the first time he stroked her pussy. Tentative at first, then yielding. The memory of her softness, the way she had tasted—like honey and defiance—consumed him now.
“What if I do?” she whispered. If Viktor hadn’t been staring at her lips, he might not have made out her words.
The world seemed to still as Viktor narrowed his eyes at her. His hand moved again, this time to her waist, pulling her closer until there was barely an inch of space between them. His other hand cupped her face, his thumb tracing the skin on her cheek with a gentleness that contradicted the storm raging inside him.
“You have no idea what you’re doing to me,” he said, his tone raw, almost desperate.
Sofia’s lips parted, her chest rising and falling in rapid rhythm. She didn’t answer, didn’t move, and that quiet was his undoing.
Viktor dipped his head, his lips capturing hers with a force that was both demanding and reverent. The kiss was a collision of everything he couldn’t say—his anger, his need, his obsession.
Her mouth was warm, soft, and addictive. She tasted of something sweet and elusive, and Viktor found himself deepening the kiss, his hands squeezing on her waist as if he could hold her there forever.
She responded, her fingers clutching at his shirt, pulling him closer. The feel of her hands on him sent a string of electricity through his body, every nerve igniting at once. He groaned against her mouth, his hand sliding up her back, the thin silk of her camisole doing nothing to shield him from the heat of her skin.
Viktor’s other hand moved higher, his palm grazing the curve of her breast. Her soft moan spurred him on, his thumb gliding over the sensitive peak through the fabric. The sound she made—a soft, involuntary gasp—was his undoing. He kissed her with such ferocious hunger like he’d been starving all day, waiting for that moment. Before Sofia, the other girls that had been in Viktor’s life were just means to assert dominance, to feel them break under him. But with Sofia, things were a whole lot different. She made him mad with need, pulling him around her finger with such intensity that he didn’t know how to fight against it.
He basked in her soft scent of lavender and roses, allowing it to intoxicate him as he tugged on her lip. Her whimpers made his dick rage, demanding for her pussy. But he wasn’t sure she was ready for that.
But just as quickly as he had given in, he pulled back, his breathing ragged. He pushed her against the sofa in the room and followed after her, her gasps getting muffled by his kiss. Sofia wrapped her hands around his neck, but seemed to be indecisive as she took it off a few minutes later, tracing his chest deliciously and sending tingles up his body. His hands held on to her shorts, and he made to pull them down, but Sofia shook her head at once, stopping him.
“Are you going to do this again, where you fight me away?”
“No,” Sofia whispered. She pushed him off the sofa, and he let her, watching keenly as she went on her knees and unbuckled his belt, all the while gazing up at him from underneath her lashes. He swallowed and bit his bottom lip when she freed his hard dick, springing out of his pants. She looked up at him again, then licked the head with her tongue, sending a brutal wave round Viktor, before taking it into her mouth. He laced his fingers into her hair, guiding her slowly at first as she sucked his dick up and down, increasing the pace gradually. Her hair fell all over her face, and Viktor held it up in one hair, keeping it in place while her head bobbed, the slurping sound filling the room.
Sofia gagged when his dick touched her throat, sending a jolt of pleasure through Victor. He stifled a moan and tightened his grip. Still, Sofia didn’t stop. She took his full length in, sucking in her jaw when she got to the tip to give him more satisfaction. He raked with fervor as he felt a heat go through his body. Victor stiffened suddenly as the intensity peaked until the rush shot out of him. Still, Sofia kept at it, a few droplets landing on her chin.
When it passed, she got up and licked her lips, wiping her chin clean. “This doesn’t mean I am relinquishing my freedom and power to you anytime soon, Viktor.”
Viktor’s heart pounded in his chest, his hand still wound in her hair as he tried to reclaim power. “This is dangerous,” he drawled.
Sofia’s stance didn’t waver. “So stop.”
His lips twisted into a faint smirk, but there was no humor in it. “I don’t know if I can.”
He recoiled, his hands falling away from her as if touching her any longer would burn him alive. His expression hardened, his mask slipping back into place.
“Go back to bed,” he said coldly, then turned away, disappearing into the shadows of his penthouse, leaving Sofia standing there, her emotions a whirlwind of frustration, anger, and a desire she couldn’t ignore.