Chapter 14 - Viktor
Viktor had always despised Nick Barresi, and sitting across from the man in his conference room only reinforced every instinct that screamed danger.
The Italian had inherited his father’s organization at twenty-eight, too young and too hungry for the kind of power that required decades of earned respect.
Where Antonio Barresi had been a man of honor—brutal when necessary but guided by principles that made him trustworthy—his son was a different breed entirely.
Nick was a predator who fed on chaos, a spoiled brat with a trust fund who thought violence was a game and other people’s misery was entertainment.
Viktor had tolerated him for years purely out of respect for Antonio’s memory and the debt the Nikolai family owed the older man, but every interaction left him feeling like he needed a shower.
“The shipping routes through Newark have been profitable for everyone involved,” Viktor said, keeping his voice diplomatically neutral despite wanting to tell Nick to go fuck himself. “I see no reason to alter arrangements that benefit all parties.”
“Profitable, yes. But profit isn’t everything, is it?” Nick’s smile was sharp-edged and cold, the expression of a man who enjoyed pulling wings off flies. “Sometimes it’s about... expanding horizons. Testing boundaries.”
Viktor’s jaw clenched. This was exactly why he hated dealing with Nick—everything was a game, everything was about pushing limits and seeing how far he could go before someone pushed back. The man had no concept of mutual benefit or long-term stability; he only understood dominance and submission.
“Business is about sustainable partnerships,” Viktor replied carefully. “Not ego contests.”
“Ego contests?” Nick laughed, the sound grating against Viktor’s nerves. “Is that what you think this is about? Viktor, my friend, you wound me. This is about evolution. About not letting ourselves get... comfortable.”
The emphasis on ‘comfortable’ carried implications that sharpened Viktor’s instincts.
Nick was fishing for something, probing for weaknesses or opportunities to exploit.
This meeting wasn’t about shipping routes or profit margins—it was about Nick establishing dominance in a relationship that had always been balanced.
Which was when Nick’s attention shifted to the glass walls of the conference room, his predatory focus locking onto something behind Viktor.
“Who is that?” Nick asked, his voice taking on the same tone a shark might use when scenting blood in the water.
Viktor followed his gaze and felt his blood freeze.
Anka was sitting at her desk just outside the conference room, absorbed in reviewing contracts with the kind of focused intensity that had impressed him more each day.
She looked magnificent—professional, competent, completely in her element as she wielded her intellect like a weapon.
And Nick Barresi was staring at her like she was prey.
Every protective instinct Viktor possessed roared to life.
Nick’s reputation with women was well-documented and thoroughly disgusting—he collected them like trophies, used them until he got bored, then discarded them in ways designed to cause maximum psychological damage.
The idea of Nick’s attention turning toward Anka made Viktor want to reach across the conference table and snap the man’s neck.
“She’s no one important,” Viktor said, his voice flat and dismissive despite the way it cut him to say the words. “Just part of the staff.”
It was a lie that tasted like acid, but it was necessary. Nick thrived on challenges, on taking things that belonged to other men. If he thought Viktor valued Anka, if he suspected she mattered beyond her utility as an employee, she’d become a target in whatever twisted game Nick was playing.
“Interesting staff,” Nick mused, his smile turning predatory. “Very... striking. Italian?”
“Russian, actually. Recent hire from the Volkov organization.” Viktor forced himself to sound bored, uninterested, even as rage burned in his chest at the way Nick was studying Anka like she was a piece of meat.
“Anka handles basic administrative tasks. Contract filing, scheduling, nothing that would interest you.”
The words were ash in his mouth. Anka was brilliant, insightful, capable of analytical thinking that rivaled his own—and here he was reducing her to a filing clerk to protect her from Nick’s attention. But better she think him dismissive than become Nick’s latest obsession.
“Administrative tasks,” Nick repeated thoughtfully, his focus still fixed on Anka with the intensity of a predator selecting prey. “How... modest. Although I must say, Viktor, your taste in administrative staff has certainly improved. She’s quite... substantial. I appreciate a woman with curves.”
The crude assessment made Viktor’s hands clench into fists beneath the conference table. Nick was deliberately trying to provoke him, testing to see if Viktor would react, if there was something more than professional interest in his relationship with Anka.
“She’s useful enough for basic tasks,” Viktor replied with casual indifference that required every ounce of self-control he possessed.
“Nothing more complicated than that. We needed someone to handle the mundane paperwork that was taking up too much of my secretary’s time.
Anka fits the bill perfectly—not too bright, but competent enough for simple filing systems.”
Each word felt like swallowing broken glass.
Not too bright. Anka, whose analytical skills had impressed him more in three days than most people managed in years.
Anka, who’d identified contract discrepancies his trained lawyers had missed.
Anka, who was currently absorbed in complex territorial agreements, as if they were fascinating novels.
But Nick’s smile told Viktor the strategy was working—he was losing interest, filing Anka away as unworthy of his attention.
“Basic tasks can be... expanded,” Nick continued, though his focus was already starting to wander. “Perhaps she’d be interested in opportunities that better utilize her... natural assets.”
“I doubt it,” Viktor replied smoothly, hating himself more with every word. “She’s not ambitious. Content with her current role, grateful for the work. You know how it is with women like that—give them enough busy work to feel important, and they’re perfectly happy.”
The lie was so far from the truth it might as well have been fiction.
Anka was the most ambitious woman he’d ever known, hungry for challenges and purpose in ways that every man in her life had systematically denied.
She wasn’t grateful for busy work—she was brilliant enough to transform mundane tasks into strategic advantages.
But Nick was nodding dismissively, his predatory interest finally cooling. “Pity. Though I suppose not every woman can be... intellectually stimulating.”
The rest of the meeting passed in a blur of territorial negotiations and subtle threats.
Viktor managed to maintain his diplomatic facade while internally cataloging every slight, every veiled insult, and every indication that Nick was building toward something that would require a violent resolution.
By the time Nick finally left, Viktor’s jaw ached from clenching, and his hands were cramped from maintaining relaxed positions when they wanted to form fists.
“Pleasure doing business with you, Viktor,” Nick said as he headed toward the elevators, his tone suggesting it had been anything but pleasurable. “Give my regards to your... administrative staff.”
Viktor waited until the elevator doors closed before allowing his mask to slip. The protective rage that had been building throughout the meeting needed an outlet, but more pressing was the growing certainty that he’d just made a terrible mistake.
He looked through the glass walls toward Anka’s desk, expecting to see her absorbed in contracts as she had been throughout the meeting. Instead, he found her gathering her things with mechanical precision, her movements careful and controlled in a way that suggested barely contained emotion.
Had she heard? The conference room wasn’t soundproof, and if she’d been listening...
“Anka,” he called as she stood to leave. “We’ll be leaving in ten minutes.”
She nodded without looking at him, her voice professionally neutral when she replied, “Of course, Mr. Nikolai.”
Mr. Nikolai. Not Viktor, not even the more casual tone she’d been using over the past few days. The formal address was like a slap, confirmation that something had shifted, that she’d heard enough to understand what he’d said about her.
The drive home was torture. Viktor attempted conversation twice, asking about the contracts she’d been reviewing and whether she’d had lunch, but Anka’s responses were polite monosyllables that confirmed his worst suspicions.
She stared out the window with the kind of studied indifference that screamed hurt and rage in equal measure.
He’d protected her from Nick’s attention, but at what cost?
Every dismissive word he’d spoken had been designed to shield her from becoming a target, but from her perspective, it must have sounded like genuine contempt.
Like confirmation of every insecurity her family had ever planted in her brilliant mind.
“Everything alright?” he asked as they pulled into the mansion’s circular drive, though he already knew the answer. “You seem... distant.”
“Just tired,” she replied, already reaching for the door handle with obvious desperation to escape.
“Anka—”
“I have some work to finish upstairs.” She was out of the car before he could complete the thought, her heels clicking rapidly across the marble foyer as she fled toward the stairs.
Viktor caught up with her before she could disappear, his hand closing around her wrist more gently than his desperation warranted.