Chapter Five
Valentina
The next morning, I’m scrolling through overnight market reports and nursing a black coffee before the air in the room drops ten degrees. That nitrogen chill.
"Good morning."
I jump, nearly sloshing hot espresso onto my silk blouse. Viktor is standing by the island. Damn it, I kind of forgot about him.
He’s wearing a pair of Elias’s spare pajamas that are fighting a losing battle against his frame. The sleeves are pulled tight over his massive forearms, and the buttons across his chest look like they’re ready to snap at any moment.
"Christ, Viktor," I snap. "Don't sneak up on me."
"I did not sneak," he sighs. "I was standing there for five minutes. You did not hear."
Fuck. I really didn’t hear him, which is unusual, considering I have spider senses. This man has all sorts of weird effects on me.
"Sit down," I command, changing the subject. "Eat something."
He pulls out a chair, the heavy wood groaning as he settles his bulk into it.
"Sorry," he mumbles. "I am used to standing until told otherwise."
"Well, don't. I would prefer it if you were comfortable," I grumble, gesturing for Elias to bring over a plate. Elias sets down a mountain of eggs, bacon, and toast.
Viktor picks up a fork gently, like he’s handling a piece of fine porcelain he’s afraid to crush.
"Did you sleep at all?" I ask, trying to keep a casual conversation going. This man is staying here for three months; the faster we get used to each other, the better.
"A little," he says around a mouthful of food. "The bed is... too soft."
I rub the place between my brows that always seems to collect tension. "Right. Well, you’ll get used to it. Oh—before I forget—I'll have my assistant send over a wardrobe that actually fits you."
I fire off a text to Sarah—Everything. XL. High-end basics. Today.
He mumbles a quiet “thank you,” but there’s no need for it. Anything I do, I do because I want to—not because I need empty words in return to stroke my ego.
"I have to head to the office," I say, checking my watch. "I’ll be back late. Is there anything you need?"
He stops eating. "What do I do?" he asks.
"Excuse me?"
"Until you come back," he clarifies. "What is the schedule? Who do I... serve?"
"You don't 'serve' anyone, Viktor," I hiss, irritation rising in my throat at the mere thought. "Rest. Sleep. Watch TV. There’s a library down the hall past the gallery—Elias will show you. Read a book if you want."
He looks bewildered. "I am allowed to move through the house? Unsupervised?"
"Move wherever you want. Just stay out of my office." I sigh. "I’ll see you tonight."
With that, I head to work, spending the rest of my morning in a boardroom with six men who think they can fuck me over because I’m wearing a skirt.
I let them finish their pitch before kicking them out.
Sometimes these men like to try their luck.
They fail every time, but it pisses me off the same each time.
The rest of the day is a blur of work. It’s exhausting. By the time I make it home, the sun is a bruised purple smudge on the horizon.
I drop my keys on the marble console, already searching for Viktor. But the foyer is empty.
"Elias?" I call out, unbuttoning my blazer.
Elias appears from the kitchen, wiping his hands on a towel. "Welcome home, Valentina."
"Where is he?" I ask, glancing toward the guest wing.
"The gym," Elias says, gesturing toward the glass-walled fitness suite at the end of the hall. "He’s been in there for three hours. He hasn't asked for a thing."
I walk down the corridor, the carpet muffling my heels. I don't know why I’m looking for him. Maybe I’ve grown used to the chill.
I push open the heavy glass doors to the gym. The air inside is thick and humid.
Viktor is a fucking beast.
He’s wearing nothing but a pair of grey sweatpants that hang low on his hips, drenched in sweat. He’s at the bench press, holding two of the heaviest dumbbells I own, and he’s pressing them in a way that makes the veins in his neck look like they’re about to burst through his skin.
I stand there, encased in that familiar cold, watching him. He’s terrifying.
The sound of the weights slamming against the floor echoes through the gym, loud enough to rattle through the soles of my shoes. Viktor pushes himself upright, chest rising and falling hard, sweat dripping from the tip of his nose and splattering onto the rubber floor beneath him.
"You are back," he says.
"A few hours ago," I lie. I don't want him to know that he’s the first thing I sought out. Pride is the most important thing in my world. "The clothes Sarah sent over—they fit?"
He glances down at the grey sweatpants. "They are... perfect. Thank you."
"Good." I stay where I am. "Elias is finishing dinner."
Viktor stalks toward me, heat pouring off his skin before he even reaches the door. He doesn’t stop until he’s right in front of me, crowding into my space. I have to tilt my head back to look at him. Up close, he smells of salt and iron.
"You have that look in your eye, Valentina," he murmurs. "The look of a woman who has had a long day and needs to forget it."
Good god.
He leans in just an inch. "Do you want me to pleasure you? Now? Here?"
The raw sex appeal dripping off him is enough to make anyone’s head spin, and it’s been a long time since I’ve let anyone close enough to touch.
But as I look into his eyes, I can’t tell if he’s offering this because he wants me, or because it’s the only currency he owns.
I’ve never had to pay for sex in my life, and I won’t start now.
I press my palm flat against the center of his chest. His skin is burning hot. I feel the urge to lean in, to let the mercury of his sadness drown me, but I push back instead.
"Unless I explicitly ask, Viktor, you need to stop offering," I order.
He looks down at my hand on his chest, then back at my eyes.
"Then why?" he asks, his eyes searching mine. "Why did you buy me? Ten million for a man you do not want to use? It makes no sense."
I drop my hand and shrug. "Maybe I just felt like spending money."
It’s a lie. I’m smart with my money, just like my father was smart with his. Truly, it’s a mystery why I bid on him at the auction—even to myself.
His sadness just… interested me.
I turn away. "Dinner in ten minutes. Don't be late."