Chapter 6 #2
“Good.”
“Avery.”
“What?”
“This isn’t funny.”
“Yes, it is.”
Josephine threw a couch pillow at her. Avery caught it laughing, then her expression softened. “Would it really be that terrible?”
Josephine opened her mouth. Nothing came out, because the answer wasn’t obvious anymore.
“You’re one of the strongest people I know.”
“You have a very limited sample size.”
“I’m serious.” Avery’s smile stayed steady. “You can handle Viktor.”
The words settled somewhere deep inside her.
“He’s intense.”
“So are you.”
“He can be overwhelming.”
“You’re not exactly fragile.”
Josephine stared at her sister. Avery stared right back.
Neither spoke for a moment, and Josephine looked away first, because part of her already knew Avery was right.
The truth had been sitting quietly beneath all her excuses for months.
She’d always wanted a man who knew what he wanted — strong enough to stand beside her, who didn’t need her to shrink herself to make him comfortable.
She thought about Viktor. His certainty.
His attention. His patience. His refusal to pretend he wanted less than he did.
Something inside her shifted. Not dramatically. Not all at once. Just enough.
“Avery.”
“Yeah?”
“I think part of the reason I came back was because I wanted something different.”
Avery’s expression softened. Josephine looked toward the window, thinking of the tours, the hotels, the airports, the constant movement.
Then of coming home. Of staying. Of the life she’d always quietly imagined for herself when nobody was looking — a husband, children, a place that actually felt permanent. Her chest tightened, then eased.
Avery reached over and squeezed her hand. “You don’t have to keep running.”
Josephine looked down at their joined hands. For the first time in a long time, the idea of staying didn’t feel like a trap. It felt possible. And when Viktor’s face appeared in her mind, she didn’t push the thought away.
Maybe Avery was right. Maybe she could handle him. Maybe she already was.
* * *
Julian sat across from Viktor in a private dining room overlooking downtown Atlanta and watched his friend ignore perfectly good food.
Not obvious to anyone else. Obvious to Julian.
Viktor was paying attention, asking questions, discussing contracts and projections and expansion plans — but every few minutes his phone appeared in his hand.
Not enough to seem distracted. Just enough.
Julian cut into his steak and shook his head. “You’re slipping.”
Viktor looked up from the financial report. “No.”
“You checked your phone twice in the last five minutes.”
“Three times.”
Julian laughed. “At least you’re honest.”
Viktor set the phone down. The lunch had started as business, like it usually did — both men managing multiple companies with enough overlapping interests to keep these meetings regular.
Conversation moved from acquisitions to staffing projections to a handful of upcoming developments.
At some point Julian noticed Viktor’s attention drift again. Not visibly. Just enough.
“She’s got you distracted.”
Viktor didn’t bother pretending not to know who he meant. “No.”
“Viktor.”
“No.”
Julian laughed harder. “You’re impossible.”
“I am focused.”
“You are obsessed.”
Viktor calmly took a drink of water. Julian pointed at him. “That silence was confirmation.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“Exactly.”
Viktor shook his head and went back to the report — for about thirty seconds, until his phone vibrated. Julian watched him glance down, watched his entire expression change. Not dramatically. Just enough for Julian to notice, and then enough for Julian to start grinning.
“Well?”
Josephine’s name sat on the screen. Can you come by? Need to see you.
His response took about three seconds: I’m leaving now.
Julian laughed so hard he nearly choked on his drink. “You are pathetic.”
Viktor stood.
“Wait — are you actually leaving?”
“Yes.”
“We are in the middle of lunch.”
“You have the reports.”
Julian stared. “You really are leaving.” Viktor gathered his jacket without the slightest sign of embarrassment — Josephine wanted to see him, and that was apparently the end of the discussion. Julian leaned back and crossed his arms. “She texted you, didn’t she?”
“Yes.”
“You’re not even denying it.”
“No.”
Julian laughed again. The man had absolutely no shame where Josephine was concerned. “God, she’s already got you hooked.”
Viktor buttoned his jacket, expression completely composed. “She asked me to come over.”
“You moved faster than some emergency responders.”
He checked the time. “I should go.”
Julian stared, shook his head, laughed again. “This is incredible.”
“You seem happy.”
“I am happy.” Julian’s grin widened. “For both of you.”
The humor softened, only slightly. Julian thought about Avery — about the years before she’d walked into his life, about how quickly everything had changed afterward.
Then about Josephine, and Viktor, and the fact that his friend had spent the better part of a year quietly rearranging his life around one stubborn former ballerina.
“You know,” Julian said casually, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you leave a business lunch unfinished.”
Viktor adjusted his watch. “People change.”
Julian nearly laughed himself out of his chair. “No. Don’t do that.”
“Do what?”
“Pretend this is normal.” Viktor’s mouth twitched, and Julian pointed immediately. “There. That smile.”
“I wasn’t smiling.”
“You absolutely were.”
Viktor picked up his phone. Julian shook his head. “Gone. Your dignity.”
Viktor looked entirely unconcerned. Josephine had texted him; nothing else currently mattered. Julian recognized the condition because he’d suffered from it himself. “You’re hopeless.”
“Possibly.” The answer surprised a laugh out of him. “Wow.”
Viktor checked his phone one last time. “Are we finished?”
Julian waved him off. “Go.”
“Thank you.”
“Before you leave.” Viktor paused; Julian’s grin returned. “When the wedding happens, I want to be best man.”
Silence. Viktor looked at him. Julian looked back. Neither moved. Then Viktor picked up his jacket.
“Noted.”
“That wasn’t a denial.”
“No.”
Julian laughed. “I knew it.”
Viktor headed for the exit. “Goodbye, Julian.”
“Tell Josephine I said hello.”
“I won’t.”
“Tell her anyway.”
The door opened, and Julian’s laughter followed him into the hallway. “You’re getting married,” he called.
Viktor never broke stride. “Finish your lunch.” Then he disappeared down the corridor.
Julian sat back in his chair, smiling to himself. The poor bastard was already gone. He just hadn’t admitted it out loud yet.
* * *
Josephine set the last plate on the table and stepped back to inspect her work.
The meal wasn’t perfect, but she’d stopped worrying about that an hour ago — a few things had taken longer than expected, and one sauce had nearly become a disaster before she fixed it.
The kitchen showed evidence of every minute she’d spent preparing dinner, and for some reason that made her smile.
A knock sounded at the door. She smoothed her hands down the front of her dress before crossing the room.
The moment she opened it, Viktor’s attention settled completely on her — he didn’t glance inside the house or look around the entryway, just moved his gaze slowly over her before returning to her face, the intensity of it making her pulse stumble.
“You’re staring,” she said, stepping aside to let him in.
“Yes.” He entered carrying a bottle of wine, eyes still on her face. “You look beautiful tonight.”
Heat rose into her cheeks despite herself. She took the wine from his hand and closed the door. “Most people start with hello.”
“I already know you’re here.” He followed her toward the dining room. “The important part was appreciating what I came to see.”
She rolled her eyes, smiling before she even reached the table. He noticed that too. Unfortunately, he noticed everything.
Dinner started easily, conversation flowing more naturally than it ever had — her studio, his latest project, smaller things in between.
More than once she caught herself laughing, and every time she did, she found Viktor watching her with a look that made it hard to remember what she’d been talking about.
“You seem different tonight,” he said eventually, setting down his glass.
“Different how?”
“Relaxed.” His gaze moved over her face. “And nervous.”
She laughed, leaning back. “That’s annoying.”
“It’s accurate.”