Chapter 11Claire
11
Claire
I pace the foyer, my heels clicking against the marble floor. The sound echoes through the cavernous space, amplifying my frustration. Valerian’s men hover just out of sight, their presence a constant reminder of my golden cage.
This mansion feels suffocating. I can’t even visit my parents without Valerian or one of his goons escorting me. Sure, they make themselves scarce when I’m at Bloom House, but I still sense their watchful eyes. It’s maddening.
I’ve had enough. My hand reaches for the doorknob, ready to make a break for it, but before I can turn it, Valerian materializes in front of me, his broad shoulders blocking my escape route.
“You’re not going anywhere,” he says, his voice low and firm.
The words ignite a fire in my belly. “What about my parents?” I snap, my voice rising with each word. “Are you really protecting them? I haven’t seen any sign of those guards you supposedly assigned.”
Valerian’s face remains impassive, his calm demeanor only fueling my anger. “They’re there, Claire. My people are professionals. They don’t need to be visible to be effective.”
His reasonable tone grates on my last nerve. I’m not angry at him, not really. It’s this whole situation, feeling trapped, powerless, scared for my family, but he’s here, a convenient target for my frustration.
Before I can stop myself, my fists connect with his chest. It’s like hitting a brick wall. “I can’t trust you!” The words explode from me, raw and desperate.
In an instant, Valerian’s hand wraps around my wrist. He pulls me close, our bodies nearly touching. His grip is firm but not painful, his eyes boring into mine.
“You can trust me with your life, Claire,” he says, his voice low and intense. “And with the lives of your family.”
I try to wrench my arm away, but he holds fast. “How can I? You’ve turned my world upside down. I’m practically a prisoner here!”
Valerian’s jaw tightens. “You’re here for your protection. The Petrovs?—”
“The Petrovs, the Petrovs!” I cut him off. “I’m tired of hearing about them. They’re just another bogeyman you’ve conjured up to keep me under your thumb.”
His eyes flash dangerously. “You have no idea what they’re capable of.”
“And you do?” I challenge, tilting my chin up defiantly. “What makes you so sure they’re after me? After my family?”
Valerian tightens his hold on my wrist, but it feels more protective than confining as my anger peaks and starts to wane. “Because I know how they operate. I’ve seen firsthand what they do to people who get in their way.”
Valerian’s grip on my wrist sends electricity coursing through my body. His touch is firm yet gentle, a contradiction that mirrors the man himself. For a moment, I consider giving in to the pull between us, but before I can make a decision, Valerian closes the distance.
Our lips collide, and heat explodes between us. His mouth is demanding, hungry, and I respond with equal fervor. I act on instinct, pressing closer to his solid frame. Instinctively, I wrap my leg around his hip, pulling him flush against me.
Valerian’s lips never leave mine as he slips a hand under my blouse, his fingers leaving trails of fire on my skin. I gasp into his mouth, overwhelmed by the sensations. His touch is intoxicating, and I crave more.
His fingers trail up my ribcage, and suddenly it’s like being doused in Arctic water. I jerk away from his touch, our lips separating with an audible pop. My breath comes in short, staccato bursts while I gape at Valerian, his blue eyes dark with desire.
“Stop,” I croak, my throat raw. My hands press against his chest as I stumble backward, bumping into the wall. “I can’t—we can’t?—”
“Claire...” Valerian reaches for me, his voice thick with need.
“No!” The word tears from my throat. The walls of the hallway blur and twist as I spin away from him. My feet carry me down the corridor at a sprint, my silk blouse clinging to my heated skin. The thundering of my pulse drowns everything else except for the ghost of his kiss, with the lingering taste of whiskey and mint that makes my lips tingle. I slam into my bedroom, fingers trembling as I fight with the door handle. The lock finally catches with a satisfying snap, and I collapse against the wood, sliding down until I hit the floor.
I press my forehead against my knees, trying to steady my breathing. How can I be attracted to Valerian? He’s dangerous and a criminal. Everything I should stay away from.
As my panic subsides, I realize something unsettling. Despite everything, I don’t actually feel unsafe around Valerian. He’s never hurt me or threatened me. In fact, he’s gone out of his way to protect me and my family.
I lift my head, staring at the blue carpet without really seeing it. The memory of our kiss replays in my mind on an endless loop. The heat of his body, the taste of his lips, the way his hands felt on my skin...
I shake my head, trying to clear the thoughts. I shouldn’t want him. I can’t want him. Yet denying my attraction is becoming increasingly difficult.
I unconsciously touch my lips with my fingers, still tingling from Valerian’s kiss. I close my eyelids, remembering the intensity in his gaze just before our lips met. There was desire there, yes, but also something deeper. Something that makes my heart race for reasons beyond mere physical attraction.
“This is insane,” I mutter to myself, as I open my eyes. “He’s a criminal. A dangerous man. I can’t be falling for him.”
Even as I say the words, I know they’re a lie. I’m already in too deeply. The lines between captor and protector, enemy and ally, have blurred beyond recognition.
I stand up on shaky legs and make my way to the en-suite bathroom. The woman in the mirror looks flushed, her lips slightly swollen from Valerian’s passionate kiss. I splash cold water on my face, trying to regain some semblance of control.
After I pat my face dry with a soft towel, I catch sight of the Fabergé egg collection through the open bathroom door. The delicate, jeweled eggs sit on their display shelf, like a reminder of Valerian’s complexity. A man capable of appreciating such beauty can’t be all bad, can he?
I return to the bedroom and sink onto the plush mattress. I absently trace patterns on the blue comforter while I try to sort through my jumbled thoughts and emotions.
On one hand, Valerian represents everything I should avoid. He’s involved in illegal activities and surrounded by violence and danger. Getting close to him could put me and my family at risk.
On the other hand, he’s shown me kindness and consideration. He’s protected me, even when he didn’t have to—and there’s an undeniable connection between us that goes beyond physical attraction.
I flop back onto the bed with a frustrated groan. “What am I going to do?”
The rational part of my brain screams at me to maintain distance and remember why I’m here in the first place. However, my traitorous heart whispers of possibilities, of seeing beyond Valerian’s dangerous exterior to the man underneath.
I roll onto my side, curling into a ball as confusion and desire war within me. The memory of Valerian’s kiss lingers, a phantom sensation that refuses to fade. I close my eyes, knowing sleep will be elusive tonight.
Lying in the dim light of my room, surrounded by luxury that feels both comforting and confining, I can’t pretend Valerian hasn’t gotten under my skin in ways I never expected. Worse yet, I’m not really convinced I want to stop whatever is happening from continuing.
I wake early, my mind still reeling from yesterday’s events. The kiss with Valerian replays on an endless loop, tormenting me with its intensity. I’m unable to shake the memory of his hands on my skin, his lips demanding and passionate.
Finally giving up on sleep, I drag myself out of bed and into the shower. The hot water does little to calm my spiraling thoughts. As I dry off and get dressed, I prepare myself for the inevitable confrontation with him. Much as I hate to admit it, I overreacted and owe him an apology.
The smell of coffee lures me to the kitchen, where he stands at the counter, his back to me while he pours two mugs. He turns, offering one to me with a raised eyebrow.
“Thank you.” I accept the steaming cup. Our fingers brush, and I jerk back, nearly spilling the coffee.
Valerian’s lips quirk in amusement. “Careful. It’s hot.”
I take a sip, using the mug to hide my flushed cheeks. The rich flavor momentarily distracts me from the tension in the room. I’m not exactly a coffee aficionado, but I can appreciate there is something smooth and luxurious about this brand that my cheaper usual can’t emulate.
“Valerian, I...” I set down the mug, forcing myself to meet his gaze. “I want to apologize for my outburst yesterday. It was unprofessional and uncalled for.”
He leans against the counter, studying me over the rim of his own mug. “No need to apologize. Your reaction was understandable, given the circumstances.”
I fidget with the hem of my blouse. “Still, I shouldn’t have lost my temper like that. It won’t happen again.”
He sets down his mug with a predatory gleam in his eyes. “Are you sure? Because I rather enjoyed how our ‘argument’ ended.”
Heat rushes to my face. “Stop,” I say, my voice sharper than intended. “I don’t want to hear about or talk about that kiss. It was an impulsive mistake.”
“If you say so.” He pushes off the counter, moving closer. “I agree we shouldn’t discuss it further.”
Relief washes over me, but it’s short-lived. He pauses at the kitchen doorway, turning back with a cocky smirk that sends my pulse racing.
“You might not want to talk about it, Claire,” he says, his voice low and intimate, “But I guarantee you won’t be able to stop thinking about it. I know I haven’t.”
My mouth goes dry. “What do you mean?”
Valerian’s eyes darken. “I mean that when I stroked my cock in the shower last night, I imagined it was you kissing me. Kissing…and doing a lot more.”
The mug slips from my suddenly nerveless fingers, clattering on the counter. Coffee splashes across the pristine surface, but I barely notice.
“That’s completely inappropriate,” I sputter, my face burning.
Valerian’s smirk widens. “Perhaps, but it’s the truth.”
Before I can formulate a response, he’s gone, leaving me alone with my turbulent thoughts and a spreading puddle of coffee.
I grab a dish towel, mopping up the spill with more force than necessary. How dare he say something so crude? So blatantly sexual? My hands shake as I wring out the towel, anger and something else, something I refuse to name, coursing through me.
As my initial outrage fades, I’m forced to confront an uncomfortable truth. My anger stems more from Valerian’s effect on me than from genuine offense at his words.
I sink into a chair, burying my face in my hands. The memory of our kiss floods back, along with the unbidden image of Valerian in the shower, water cascading over his muscular form as he grasps his cock. I already know he’s packing serious equipment from the times I’ve caught glimpses in the massage room, so it’s easy enough to picture his shaft, long, thick, and throbbing?—
“Stop it,” I mutter, pressing the heels of my hands against my eyes until I see stars. “This is insane.”
But is it? The traitorous voice in my head whispers, “You’re attracted to him. Admit it.”
I groan, dropping my hands to the table. Fine. I’m attracted to Valerian. Physically, at least. It’s hard not to be, with his chiseled features, hard body, and amazing eyes. That doesn’t change anything. He’s still a dangerous man, a criminal who’s holding me here against my will.
Except... is he? The thought catches me off guard. I came here willingly to protect my family. Valerian’s never physically restrained me or threatened me. In fact, he’s gone out of his way to ensure my comfort and safety.
I stand abruptly, needing to move. Pacing the kitchen, I try to sort through my jumbled emotions. The circumstances of my being here are far from ideal, but I can’t deny he’s has treated me with respect. More than that, he’s shown genuine interest in me as a person.
I absently trace the cool marble of the countertop while remembering our conversations about various things, both important and mundane, usually while I’m massaging him…
The truth I’ve been avoiding crashes over me like a wave. My anger, my constant irritation with Valerian, isn’t just about the situation I’m in. It’s about the way he makes me feel. The way my body responds to his presence, the spark of connection I can’t deny, even though I’m desperate to do so.
“This is a mess,” I say to the empty kitchen.
I’ve spent so much energy fighting my attraction to Valerian that I’ve ignored the real issue. I’m not just physically drawn to him. I’m starting to care about him. To see beyond the dangerous veneer to the complex man underneath.
That terrifies me more than any threat the Petrov Syndicate could pose.
I inhale and exhale sharply, squaring my shoulders. I need to get a grip. Whatever I’m feeling, whatever Valerian might be feeling, it doesn’t change the reality of our situation. I’m here to work off my brother’s debt and nothing more.
Yet heading back to my room to prepare for the day, Valerian’s words linger in my mind. You won’t be able to stop thinking about it.
He’s right. That knowledge haunts me more than any ghost ever could.