Chapter 10 - Viktor
Watching Anka work a room was like watching a master class in social manipulation.
Within an hour of arriving at Fedya’s birthday dinner, she had every single member of Viktor’s family eating out of her hand.
She remembered names and details from their wedding reception, asked thoughtful questions about their businesses and children, and somehow managed to make each person feel like they were the most interesting individual she’d ever met.
It should have reminded him of how she’d played him four years ago, should have triggered all his old anger and suspicion.
Instead, he found himself genuinely impressed by her skill.
This wasn’t calculated manipulation—this was Anka being herself, letting her natural warmth and intelligence shine through the polished Bratva princess facade.
“She’s lovely,” Fedya said, pulling Viktor aside as Anka charmed a group of cousins with some story about her art history studies. “Smart, beautiful, and she clearly adores you.”
Viktor followed his brother’s gaze to where Anka was gesturing animatedly, her whole face lit up with genuine enthusiasm.
She did look happy, more relaxed than he’d seen her since their wedding.
But there was something else there too, a tension around her eyes that spoke of carefully controlled emotions.
“She’s perfect,” he agreed, meaning it more than he cared to admit.
“Then why do you both look like you’re waiting for the other shoe to drop?”
Before Viktor could answer, he caught sight of Adrian Volkov approaching Anka from across the room. The change in her demeanor was immediate and devastating. Her smile became fixed, her shoulders went rigid, and all the natural warmth drained out of her expression like someone had flipped a switch.
“Excuse me,” Viktor said, already moving toward them.
He hung back, positioning himself where he could observe their interaction without being obvious.
Adrian was speaking in low, urgent tones, and with each word, Anka seemed to shrink into herself.
Her hands were clenched at her sides, and Viktor could see the pulse hammering in her throat even from a distance.
Whatever Adrian was saying to her was upsetting her. Badly.
After a few minutes, Adrian moved away to refill his drink, leaving Anka standing alone near the windows. Viktor waited until he was out of earshot before approaching.
“You okay?” he asked, keeping his voice casual.
She startled slightly, like she’d been lost in her own thoughts. “Fine. Just needed a moment.”
“Bullshit. You look like you’re about to be sick.” He stepped closer, studying her face. “What did Adrian say to you?”
“Nothing important.” But her voice was strained, and she wouldn’t meet his eyes.
“Anka—”
“Viktor, please. Just drop it.”
Before he could press further, Adrian was back, sliding up to them with that predatory smile Viktor was beginning to hate. “Hope I’m not interrupting anything important.”
The change in Anka was immediate. Her entire body tensed, her breathing became shallow, and Viktor could see her hands trembling slightly as she reached for her wine glass. Whatever hold Adrian had over her, it ran deep.
Viktor’s protective instincts flared to life, the same primal urge that had driven him to kill those kidnappers yesterday. This bastard was threatening his wife, making her afraid in what should have been a safe space, and every fiber of his being wanted to put a bullet between his eyes.
But they were at his brother’s birthday party, surrounded by family and allies, and starting a war in the middle of the festivities would be beyond poor form. So instead, he did something that came naturally but surprised even him.
He moved closer to Anka, close enough that their bodies were almost touching, and slipped his arm around her waist.
“Sorry for abandoning you, sweetheart,” he said, pressing a kiss to her temple. “My siblings wanted to interrogate me about our honeymoon plans.”
Anka’s surprise was quickly masked, but he felt the way she melted slightly into his touch, the way her body automatically sought the comfort and protection he was offering. She played along perfectly, tilting her head to smile up at him with an expression that looked genuinely adoring.
“It’s fine,” she said, her voice warm and affectionate. “I was just telling Adrian how wonderful your family has been to me.”
Adrian’s eyes narrowed slightly, clearly recognizing the performance for what it was but unable to call them out on it without looking like an ass. “Yes, they seem very... welcoming.”
Viktor tightened his grip on Anka’s waist, a clear claiming gesture that Adrian couldn’t miss. “We take care of our own.”
The message was unmistakable: Anka was his now, under his protection, and anyone who threatened her would answer to him. Adrian’s jaw tightened almost imperceptibly, but he maintained his pleasant facade.
“Of course,” he said smoothly. “Family is everything, after all.”
“Exactly.” Viktor turned to Anka, letting his thumb stroke along her hip in a gesture that was both possessive and intimate. “Ready for dinner, baby? I think they’re about to seat us.”
“Absolutely.” She leaned into him, her hand coming up to rest on his chest in a move that looked perfectly natural. “I’m starving.”
As they walked toward the dining room, Viktor kept his arm around her, hyperaware of every point where their bodies touched.
She was soft and warm against his side, fitting perfectly under his arm like she’d been made for that exact spot.
Her perfume filled his senses, something light and floral that made him want to bury his face in her neck and breathe her in.
He caught Adrian watching them from across the room, his dark eyes tracking their every move with an intensity that set Viktor’s teeth on edge. Adrian was looking for weakness, for cracks in the facade, for any sign that their marriage was the business arrangement they both knew it to be.
Well, fuck him. If he wanted to play games, Viktor was more than ready to oblige.
Throughout dinner, Viktor made sure to touch Anka constantly.
His hand on her thigh under the table, fingers trailing along her arm as he reached for his wine glass, casual kisses pressed to her cheek when she said something particularly charming.
Each touch was a statement of ownership, a message to Adrian and anyone else watching that Anka Nikolai was thoroughly claimed.
But somewhere along the way, the performance stopped feeling like an act and began to feel real. Her soft gasps when his fingers skimmed along sensitive skin, the way she leaned into his touch instead of pulling away, the heat in her eyes when she thought no one else was looking—it was all genuine.
And it was driving him fucking insane.
By the time they said their goodbyes and climbed into the car for the drive home, the tension between them was thick enough to choke on.
Anka sat rigidly in her seat, staring out the window like the passing streetlights held the secrets of the universe.
But Viktor could see her reflection in the glass, could see the way her teeth worried her bottom lip, the way her hands twisted in her lap.
“You want to tell me what that was about?” he asked as they pulled through the gates of their compound.
“What what was about?”
“Don’t play dumb. Adrian. Whatever he said to you that made you look like you were about to throw up.”
She was quiet until they reached the house, until they were standing in the foyer with the weight of the evening settling around them like smoke.
“It’s none of your business,” she said finally.
“The hell it isn’t. You’re my wife.”
“In name only.” She kicked off her heels, wincing slightly as her injured ankle protested. “Our marriage is a business arrangement, remember? You don’t get to play protective husband when it’s convenient and ignore me the rest of the time.”
“I haven’t been ignoring you—”
“Haven’t you? Three weeks, Viktor. Three weeks of sleeping in separate beds, eating separate meals, living completely separate lives. The only time you pay attention to me is when you’re pissed off about something I’ve done or when you need me to play the dutiful wife for an audience.”
She was right, and they both knew it. But hearing her say it out loud, hearing the hurt in her voice, made something twist uncomfortably in his chest.
“That’s not...” He ran a hand through his hair, struggling to find the right words. “It’s complicated.”
“No, it’s really not.” She was backing away from him, heading for the stairs. “You married me for revenge. I married you to save my family. Everything else is just window dressing.”
“Is it? Because from where I’m standing, it looked like you were enjoying yourself tonight when I had my hands on you.”
She froze on the third step, her knuckles white as she gripped the banister. “That was an act.”
“Was it? Because your body seemed to have a different opinion.” He moved closer, trapping her between his body and the stairs. “You were melting every time I touched you, Anka. Leaning into me, making those little sounds in the back of your throat that I remember so fucking well.”
“Viktor—”
“Tell me you didn’t feel anything. Tell me it was all just pretend, and I’ll walk away right now.”
She turned to face him, and he could see the war playing out in her hazel eyes. Want versus self-preservation, desire versus the knowledge that getting involved with him again could only end in heartbreak.
“I felt something,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. “But that doesn’t change anything. We can’t go back to what we were.”
“I’m not talking about going back. I’m talking about what’s happening right now, in this moment.” He reached out, tracing his fingers along her cheek. “I’m talking about the way you’re looking at me like you want to devour me whole.”
She leaned into his touch despite herself, her eyes fluttering closed for just a second. “We’ll only hurt each other.”
“Maybe. Or maybe we’ll finally get this out of our systems.”
“What are you suggesting?”
“I’m suggesting we stop pretending we don’t want each other. Stop fighting the inevitable and just... see what happens.”
For a moment, he thought she was going to say yes. He could see the moment her resolve wavered, could feel the heat radiating from her body as she swayed closer to him.
Then she shook her head, stepping back until her shoulders hit the wall.
“No. I won’t do this again. I won’t let you back in just so you can destroy me when you get bored or decide you’ve gotten your revenge.”
“What if that’s not what this is about?”
“Isn’t it? This whole marriage, this whole fucked-up situation we’re in—it’s all because you wanted to make me pay for what happened four years ago. And now what, you want to add sleeping with me to your list of victories?”
The accusation hit like a slap, mostly because there was truth in it. Or there had been, in the beginning. But somewhere along the way, his motivations had gotten muddy, complicated by feelings he didn’t want to examine too closely.
“It’s not about revenge anymore,” he said, surprised by his own honesty.
“Then what is it about?”
“I don’t know. I just know that I can’t stop thinking about you. About how you felt in my arms last night, about how perfect you looked tonight, about how much I want to kiss you right fucking now.”
Her breath caught, and he saw her pupils dilate with want. “Viktor...”
“Tell me you don’t want the same thing. Tell me you haven’t been thinking about what it would be like if we stopped fighting and just gave in to this.”
“I can’t.” The words were barely audible. “I can’t tell you that because it would be a lie.”
The admission hung between them like a lit fuse, dangerous and explosive. They were both breathing hard, both fighting against the magnetic pull that had always existed between them.
“So what do we do?” he asked.
She looked up at him with eyes full of confusion and desire and something that might have been hope. “I don’t know.”
That’s when he snapped. The careful control he’d been maintaining all evening shattered completely, and he closed the distance between them in two quick steps. His hands framed her face, and before she could protest or pull away, he crashed his lips against hers.
The kiss was desperate, hungry, four years of suppressed longing and unresolved tension exploding between them like a dam bursting.
She tasted like wine and sin and everything he’d been missing, and when she moaned into his mouth and kissed him back with equal fervor, he nearly lost his fucking mind.
Her arms came up to wind around his neck, her fingers tangling in his hair as she pulled him closer. He pressed her back against the wall, his body covering hers, and she arched against him like she was trying to merge them into one person.
This was what he’d been craving, what he’d been fighting against since the moment he saw her walking down that aisle toward him. Not revenge, not justice, not any of the noble motivations he’d told himself drove him.
Just her. Always her.
When they finally broke apart, both of them gasping for air, she looked up at him with wide, stunned eyes.
“Fuck,” she whispered.
“Yeah,” he agreed, his forehead resting against hers. “Fuck.”
They stood there for a long moment, both of them trying to process what had just happened, what it meant for the careful boundaries they’d constructed around themselves.
Finally, Anka pulled back, her hand coming up to touch her swollen lips.
“This complicates things,” she said.
“Everything about us is complicated.”
“Viktor, I can’t... I need to think.”
He wanted to push, wanted to follow her upstairs and spend the night showing her exactly how good they could be together.
But the vulnerability in her eyes stopped him.
She’d been through enough today, dealing with Adrian and meeting his family and navigating the minefield of their relationship. She needed space to process.
“Okay,” he said, stepping back. “But Anka?”
“Yeah?”
“This isn’t going away. This thing between us—it’s only going to get stronger.”
She nodded, looking both terrified and exhilarated by the prospect. “I know.”
Then she closed the distance between them and kissed him—hard, urgent, nothing like the careful restraint she’d shown before. It was fire and teeth and desperation, and by the time she finally pulled back, they were both breathless.
Her eyes burned into his, daring him to follow, before she turned and headed upstairs. Viktor stood there, lips swollen, heart pounding, every nerve in his body alive with the promise of what was coming next.