Chapter 21
CHAPTER 21
VIKTORIA
M y pulse quickened as Artem's Bentley purred through the city streets.
The heated leather seats caressed my skin, a stark contrast to the ice in my veins.
I couldn't stop staring at his hands. Strong, masculine fingers gripped the steering wheel with casual dominance—the same hands that had explored every inch of my body just hours ago.
"We're here." His voice was a low rumble that vibrated through me.
He didn't wait for a response, didn't ask if I was hungry or what type of food I preferred. That wasn't how Artem Ivanov operated.
He decided, and I followed.
Or at least, that was what he thought.
The second I saw the restaurant with its gilded chandeliers and crystal glassware catching fire in the dim lighting, I knew this was one of the best in town.
Of course it was.
After seeing the hotel room Artem paid for, and then his apartment, I knew he only demanded the best of the best in his possessions, in his business, and in his women.
For a moment I allowed myself to feel the intoxicating rush of excitement and wonder, like Alice falling into Wonderland. Cinderella at the ball.
I was actually going to experience something incredible. Champagne bubbles of anticipation fizzed through my veins.
Then I saw the way the ma?tre d' greeted Artem.
The way he bowed deeply.
How his hands trembled violently as he picked up menus.
Artem pressed his large hand against my lower back, his heat burning through the thin fabric of my dress as he guided me to our table. With any other man, it would have felt comforting, the helpful, guiding hand of a polite gentleman.
He wasn't any other man.
As we followed the terrified ma?tre d', Artem's palm felt like a brand, a claim, a leash.
He wasn't guiding me; he was caging me.
I needed to remember that.
I needed to remember that this wasn't a fairy tale.
This beast wouldn't turn into a handsome prince at the end.
He was only the beast.
And no matter how many times his mouth claimed mine, no matter how his fingers dug into my flesh last night, I would never wake from this nightmare.
I hated how, even knowing that, my skin prickled with goose bumps.
How the space between my thighs ached with the betrayal of desire.
How could I hate so completely with my entire soul, and still want him with every fiber of my being?
One more glance around at the gorgeous opulence, just to take it all in, and then I looked beyond the glitz and glamour, beyond the polished silverware reflecting candlelight like daggers.
I studied the staff and the subtle looks they gave each other, the wordless warnings and scared shaking of their heads.
This was going to be like every other restaurant I'd ever gone to with my family. Yes, the food would probably be better. The ambiance was far superior, but knowing that everyone was staring at us, afraid of us, was going to be exactly the same.
The air itself seemed charged with danger, standing the fine hairs on my neck up at attention.
I had to remember that. Artem was no different than my father. He was far more successful, and I would bet more strategic, but at their core, they were both men of violence.
A violence that lurked beneath the surface of expensive suits and charming smiles.
I had to remind myself of that over and over. My goal here tonight was not to fall in love with the lifestyle and the luxury he could give me. It was to find a way out of his beautiful, gilded cage.
My fears were confirmed again when the server gave the busboy another frightened look as she approached our table. Her knuckles were white around the edges of her tablet.
Absolutely everyone in this restaurant knew who Artem was, what he was.
They were terrified of him.
More than one of the servers stared at me for a moment from across the room and whispered into the ears of their co-workers. The whispers slithered through the air like venomous snakes.
They were probably wondering if I was some poor girl with no idea who she was on a date with, or a hooker.
That seemed to be how people were choosing to see me lately, either as a na?ve, stupid little girl or a sex worker.
I'd honestly rather they thought of me as a sex worker. At least there was some dignity in that. There was no dignity in stupidity.
"You're quiet tonight," Artem said as he sat back in the padded chair and took me in, his ice-gray eyes raking over my body like a physical caress. "Is there any reason?"
The loaded look he gave me told me exactly what he wanted to do. His jaw tightened with barely restrained hunger.
He wanted to talk about last night and this morning. Whether it was to gloat over my punishment or bask in the satisfaction of knowing he had made me come several times, my body betraying me as surely as my mind was beginning to, I didn't know.
Or maybe he wanted to talk about what that meant and how it was going to be going forward.
Either way, I couldn't handle it. Not when I could still feel the ghost of his hands on my thighs, the bruising grip of his fingers on my hips.
"It's just been a long day," I said with a polite smile, trying to get him to let his guard down.
I crossed my legs under the table, pressing my thighs together to quell the ache that bloomed there at the memory of his touch.
"How was your day?" Break anyone's legs? I finished silently.
"It was fine. Meetings that should have been e-mails, working with my brothers, which is a specific type of torture." His voice was a deep velvet timbre that vibrated through me. "Why was today longer than any other day?"
"Just a class I'm not fond of." I smiled, letting the tip of my tongue dart out to wet my lips.
I didn't miss how his eyes tracked the movement, his own lips parting slightly.
"Speaking of brothers, can I ask how you knew Dima?"
Artem gave me a long, hard look. A muscle in his jaw twitched.
He knew what I was doing. It was in his eyes, sharp as cut diamonds. The question was whether he would let me get away with it.
Sweet, charming, and disarming.
The three greatest tools at a woman's disposal. Men who demanded control and power would always underestimate women. If we could charm them with a girlish sweetness, then they would tell us anything we needed to know.
It was something my mother told me when I was young. I thought it was silly and trivial. Now I wished I had taken her lessons to heart and practiced them.
How was I supposed to lure him into my trap, get him to show me the way to be rid of him, without falling into his trap?
"I actually met Dima when I was in Pennsylvania giving a lecture at some college on engineering." His fingers toyed with the stem of his wineglass, those same fingers that had explored every inch of my body just hours ago.
"What do you know about engineering?" The words flew from my lips before I could take them back, sharp as daggers.
He didn't seem offended. In fact, he sat a little straighter in his seat and a smile turned up at his lips.
"I'm an engineer. I have a master’s level degree from MSU." Pride colored his words, and for a moment, he looked almost human.
"MSU?" I leaned forward, the movement causing my dress to dip lower, exposing more of my cleavage.
His eyes dropped momentarily before snapping back to mine, darkening with desire.
"Lomonosov Moscow State University. I develop guidance and control systems for missiles and other precision-guided munitions." His accent thickened slightly, rolling his r's in a way that sent a shudder over me.
"So you build things to help governments kill each other and the innocent people who happen to be around them?" Why couldn't I stop my mouth from talking? Why did I keep antagonizing the beast?
"Actually, I help keep innocent people alive."
He leaned forward, closing the distance between us until I could smell his cologne, spicy and masculine.
"I designed a system that allows a missile to target a single room in a building for a precision kill instead of blowing up the entire building, or even the whole block."
"What do you mean?"
I leaned closer, my breasts brushing against the edge of the table, needing to know more. I was trying to lay a trap for him, and yet here I was, hanging on every word, caught in his web.
A man like him shouldn't get to be powerful, handsome, and smart. It wasn't fair. It wasn't fair how my body responded to him against my will, how heat pooled in my core.
Artem was eating up the attention, his eyes glittering with satisfaction. It seemed like he wanted to talk about this, to tell me more. Maybe I would get lucky, and he would let something slip?
"How about you tell me why you don't like the class, and I will tell you why my work saves people, or at least gives some governments the option to save people?"
He raised an eyebrow, and I suddenly felt like I was playing chess. He would sacrifice his pawn by giving me information, but in doing so, he was going to move in on my bishop.
The server saved me from having to answer. As she came to the table to offer the specials, her hands holding her tablet to take the orders trembled a little. A thin sheen of sweat glistened on her forehead.
"What would you like?" Artem asked, catching me off guard.
His gaze softened when he spoke to me, a subtle change that sent nerves skittering across my skin. Every single time he did that, it caught me by surprise and seemed to disarm me.
How could something as simple as asking what I wanted to eat throw me off my game so hard every single time?
I ordered one of the specials that she had read off that I really had paid little attention to. She jotted it down, nodding, and took his order.
Before she had even left the table, our water glasses were refilled, and the sommelier came by with a bottle of wine, red as blood in the low light.
"On the house," he said with a too-wide grin, and his hand shook as he held it out for Artem's approval, the wine nearly splashing over the lip of the bottle. "A gift from us to one of our best customers."
Artem looked bored but nodded for him to pour.
I didn't want wine. The last thing I needed was alcohol on top of all of my anxiety and warring emotions. I needed to keep my head clear. Already his presence was intoxicating enough, clouding my judgment.
"What's wrong?" Artem asked as soon as the sommelier left, his eyes probing, stripping me bare.
"Nothing, just hungry, I guess." I gave him a soft smile, hoping that would be the end and I could get back to learning more about him and finding his weaknesses, or his blind spots.
I should've known better.
"Something is wrong. Tell me." His voice a low purr that made my skin tingle. "Is this about what happened last night? Or this?—"
"No," I interrupted him, my pulse racing.
It was about what had happened last night, and this morning. It was about what happened the night before when he spanked me like a child, my skin still tender from his palm, and the cameras in my apartment, and his heavy-handed control, and my need to have some agency in my life.
And about the temptation to give in and to become what I promised myself I would never be: the pet of a monster.
I wasn't about to spill that all over the table. God only knew what he would do. He could accuse me of being an ungrateful brat and I'd get punished again, or maybe he would laugh at me, and use it to further trap me in his web of control and desire.
I needed a plan before I addressed those issues. Preferably one that led to my freedom. Right now, all I had was a nervous, empty stomach and proof that Artem was a man to be feared.
A man to be hated.
A man I shouldn't want with every fiber of my being.
"You can tell me now, or I could take you over my knee right here in the middle of this dining room, and then you’ll tell me anyway."