Chapter 16
CHAPTER 16
VIKTORIA
"H ow dare you," I screamed as I stormed into Artem's penthouse just to find him lounging on a black leather sofa, crystal glass of vodka balanced between his long fingers, the amber glow of the fireplace casting sharp shadows across his face.
His hair was damp, slicked back from his forehead as if he'd just stepped from the shower. He wore ripped jeans that hung low on his hips and a black T-shirt that stretched across the hard planes of his chest, defining every ripple of muscle beneath the fabric.
Damn him.
After class I'd bribed the doorman with some of my returned tuition money to tell me where Artem lived. Imagine my shock when we crossed the bridge into Washington, D.C. and stopped in front of a sleek high-rise barely a stone's throw from the freaking White House.
Of course that was where he would be. The arrogance and audacity of running a mafia empire while in full view of the seat of American government probably amused him to no end.
"Excuse me?" Artem said, his gaze traveled up and down my body with deliberate slowness, leaving a trail of heat in its wake.
I hated the way my skin prickled under his scrutiny, how my pulse quickened at his attention. I channeled that unwanted response into my rage.
"What gives you the right?" I trembled with fury.
"The right to what, Viktoria?" He shifted forward and set his glass on the table, the leather creaking beneath him. "To pay for your tuition? To keep you safe?"
"The right to act like you have a say in my life. The right to act like you own me so you get to make decisions like where I live!" The words tore from my throat, raw and unfiltered.
"It's been a long day, little girl." His jaw clenched tight, a muscle ticking beneath the stubble. "You should go back to your apartment, and be grateful I'm even letting you stay in school at all." He turned to stare into the fire again, the flames reflected in his steel-gray eyes.
It was a dismissal. A cold, uncaring, uninterested dismissal.
He had the audacity to control my life like I was nothing more than a doll.
That was it. That was exactly what he was treating me like. He clothed me, decided what I could do with my time, and even put me in a pretty apartment so he could watch me when the mood struck him.
Then he couldn't even be bothered to look at me when I addressed him because it wasn't at his whim.
Maybe his men followed his orders without question. Maybe his women acted grateful to be controlled, paid off with pretty things. All they had to do was give up their soul.
I was neither and I was not about to let him forget it.
"Grateful? You want me to be grateful?" Heat crawled up my neck, my chest heaving. "You isolated me from my friends. Then moved me into a new apartment off campus without even asking. You withdrew me from my study group and put me in a fucking gilded cage so you can watch me whenever it amuses you, and you want me to be grateful?"
My voice was going shrill, the crazy seeping in, but I didn't care.
He made me crazy.
"Excuse me?" he said, his head tipping back, exposing the strong column of his throat. His jaw flexed, tension radiating from his body even as he feigned indifference.
"There is no excuse, and you know it. You're just like my father, another power-mad jerk who thinks he owns the goddamn world. Well, news flash—you don't own me. Unlike every other woman in your life, I'm not for sale." I planted my hands on my hips and lifted my chin in defiance.
I had no idea what he was going to do, and my heart crashed against my ribs with a heady cocktail of fear and rage. My cheeks burned, breath coming in quick pants, hands trembling until I dug my nails into my own flesh. The sharp bite of pain centered me, cleared my head.
If I had spoken to my father like that, I would have been knocked to the ground and kicked a few times, but that wasn't Artem's style.
At least I hoped not.
The lingering sting of welts across my ass with every step I took should have been a reminder that he was not afraid to inflict pain.
But it wasn't the same. There was something...intimate…about how he had punished me.
"Are you finished throwing your little temper tantrum?" I caught the treacherous undercurrent to his seemingly calm question.
"I am not throwing a tantrum, I am?—"
"Acting like a spoiled brat." Artem retrieved his glass and swallowed a long pull, the muscles in his throat working as the liquor disappeared. "You seem to be under some kind of delusion about our current roles. I'd like to clear that up immediately."
He still didn't look at me directly, and somehow that cut deeper than any insult.
"I'm very well aware of my?—"
"No," he interrupted. "You're not. If you were aware of your role, you wouldn't dare barge into my home, flinging accusations and making demands. Who even let you in here?"
I thought of how I bribed the doorman to tell me where he lived, and how he even gave me a ride. Ivan seemed nice. I wouldn't rat him out to the boss. Instead, I shut my mouth and stared him down, my heartbeat a wild thing in my chest.
His nostrils flared, jaw working as he ground his teeth together. Sure, I was being a brat, but he was barely controlling his temper, like I was the unreasonable one in this situation.
"I moved you out of that dorm after you proved you couldn't be trusted to keep yourself safe," he said, each word precisely measured.
"I—"
"Need I remind you I had to leave an important meeting last night to pick you up from a frat party where you were beyond wasted? Do you know what could have happened to you?" His knuckles whitened around the glass, and for a moment I thought it might shatter in his grip.
I smirked as I crossed my arms over my chest, ignoring the way my nipples had hardened against the fabric of my shirt. "Hmmm, let me think. A controlling criminal could barge in and overreact by firing a few bullets in the middle of a frat party and then throw me over his shoulder and kidnap me in his helicopter, embarrassing me in front of the entire student body, just to take me to an expensive hotel and spank me like I'd been a bad girl?"
"Watch. Your. Tone." Each word fell like a hammer blow.
"You watch your tone. I didn't leave the home of one vindictive son of a bitch just to be under the thumb of another," I said.
He sat there, his shoulders tensing, jaw clenched so tight I could practically hear his teeth grinding.
The sight only fueled my anger.
My skin felt tight, like my clothes were too small, and there was a buzzing of irritation and desire running over me.
"I need to know why," I demanded as I started pacing the room, unable to stay still. "Why go through all this trouble? Act like you are going to let me live my life just to take it all from me?"
"I took nothing from you." He took another sip of the drink, then set it back down, ready to leave another wet ring on the table.
"Really?" I stopped in front of him, blocking his view of his kingdom and forcing him to look at me, acknowledge me.
"Fine, princess," he said, his eyes finally meeting mine, the full force of his attention hitting me like a physical blow. "Tell me what's bothering you. Is there a pea under your new three-thousand-dollar mattress? Your new clothes too soft? Too warm? Or are you just pissed off you aren't going to graduate with crippling student debt like every other American?"
"No," I seethed, before snatching his glass and slamming it down on the coaster next to him. "I'm pissed that you are treating me like some doll you own. I never asked for you to buy me clothes, or even pay my tuition?—"
"You said you wanted to go to?—"
"I know what I said," I shouted, my voice echoing off the high ceilings. "You asked me what I wanted, and I told you I wanted an education. I never said I wanted to be treated like a possession or put in your debt. I didn't ask for a sugar daddy or a sponsor."
"Is that why you're acting like a child? You think I am going to hold your tuition over your head?" He remained calm, but there was a tightly coiled tension in his body, in the way he leaned forward, muscles bunched beneath his shirt.
If I had been a smarter woman, it would have warned me to back off.
"No, I'm upset because you are treating me like a child. You don't get to ground me for drinking. I'm of age. It may have been a stupid mistake, but it was my mistake to make. You don't get to terrorize the people I spend my time with. Amy ran from me today."
"Are those all your rules, princess?" he said, still with no threat in his voice, no mocking, nothing. Artem was hard to read, and I couldn't help but wonder if that was part of what had gotten my father killed.
He tried to play Artem and never saw his wrath coming. Was I making the same mistake?
I probably should have shut up, but I was just so done being a pawn in someone else's game.
"No," I bit out. "You don't get to give me an avenue to achieve my dreams and then toy with my ability to succeed."
"I don't know what you are talking about."
He was so casual, sitting on the sofa, his arms slung over the black leather as he watched me with a destructive focus.
It was one thing to be hit, to be yelled at and suffer the abuse I had at my family's hand. But to be looked at like I was nothing? It broke something inside of me. Something that held back years of pent-up rage.
Tears of frustration burned, but I wouldn't let them fall.
Never let them see you cry.
"I'm talking about that study group you pulled me out of. It's required to pass that class. Why would you spend all this money on my tuition just to watch me fail? Is this some sick little game to you? You want to watch me work for something, struggle for it, just to take away any chance of success? Or do you want me to fail so you can punish me again?"
Artem gave me a heated look, his eyes darkening to the color of storm clouds. I knew he was thinking about the spanking he had given me, how my skin had bloomed red beneath his palm.
I ignored the flood of heat that rushed between my thighs, the way my pulse quickened at the memory.
"That study group isn't required. You were incorrectly assigned. That group was for underperforming students. You're not underperforming. There should be a new schedule sent to you next week. The new group is only women and meets twice as often."
That should have satisfied me, but it didn't. It just stoked the fire raging inside me.
"What makes you think you get to decide what kind of study group I should be a part of? How do you even have the authority to change my schedule with the school?"
"They listen to the people who pay the bills." He gave me a deadpan look and I had to fight the urge to rake my nails down his face just to see if he'd finally show some real emotion.
I wasn't that stupid.
Instead, I started pacing again, my heels clicking on the marble floor as I went back and forth in front of that window.
His eyes stayed on me, tracking my movements like a killer sizing up his next victim, and it drove me insane how my body responded to that attention, heat pooling low in my belly.
"I don't want to live in that apartment," I said, pointing to the floor.
"Okay, you don't want to live there. Your objection has been noted." His lip curled into the barest hint of a sneer. "But it changes nothing. That is where you're going to live. Deal with it. If I find out that you're not in that apartment every night by nine p.m., then I'll have my men hunt you down and drag you back to me where I will punish you again and again until the message finally sinks in."
"And what message is that? That you're losing control over your empire, that men like my father are whispering about how the Ivanov blood has run thin, so you're controlling me instead?" I regretted the words the moment they flew out of my mouth.
He was on me in a second.
His hand wrapped around my throat as he pressed me against the cold window glass, the city lights twinkling far below us.
"That is enough." His breath was hot against my face. "The last person who dared talk to me like that is dead. My patience with you is not infinite, so let's clear the air. You're wrong. I didn't move you into that apartment to amuse myself. It was to protect you. Your father had enemies, and he owed a lot of people money. They may decide that his debts are now your responsibility."
He tightened his grip on my neck, making my lips tingle and my heart race. Or maybe it was the steely ice-gray of his eyes as they seemed to stare into my soul, stripping me bare.
He was pressed against me, his hard body flush against mine, trapping me between scorching heat and frigid glass. It was overwhelming; my head spun and my thoughts scattered.
"No one is?—"
"Shut that pretty mouth of yours," he barked, his free hand coming up to grip my jaw. "You had your chance to speak. Now you will listen. I have no interest in fucking with your education, so long as your life is not in danger. You will obey my orders. You will do as I command."
"And if I don't," I mouthed, unable to speak with his hand at my throat, but unwilling to back down.
His eyes flashed with something that could have been pride, or maybe just excitement at the challenge.
His thumb caressed the underside of my jaw in a gesture so tender, my knees went weak.
"There is no 'if you don't,'" he growled, his lips so close to mine I could feel the heat of them. "You will step in line. Even if I have to punish you every single day until it sinks in."
He leaned in next to my ear, his breath sending shivers through my body. "Good girls go to school,” he whispered. “Bad girls get stripped and chained to my desk. Don't make me your enemy, Viktoria. You won't like it."
His hand around my neck and his dark words should not have caused heat to swell in my core, or my nipples to tighten against my blouse, but they did. My body was a traitor to my pride.
"I won't be treated like a possession, Artem." I squeezed my hands into fists to stop them from shaking, to keep my composure and my knees from weakening. "You don't own me."
"Your father brought you to me to give you away. He tried to sell you. Instead, I took you." His thumb traced the outline of my bottom lip. "You are mine to do with as I see fit."
His lips slammed against mine, his tongue pushing past my teeth to claim me, possessing my mouth with a hunger that matched the storm raging inside me.