Chapter 18 - Gela #2
Everything freezes. The noise of the party fades away, the crowd between us seems to part, and it's just Valentin and me, staring at each other across the room.
His gaze travels slowly down my body, lingering on the places where the emerald silk clings tightest, and then back up to meet my eyes. There's heat in that look. A longing of some sort.
My mouth goes dry. My brain screams at me to turn my attention back to Nadya and Darya, but I can’t seem to break off his gaze.
He says something to the man he's with and starts moving toward me, and all I can do is stand and wait. My heart hammers against my ribs. What will I say to him? What will he say to me? Is he still mad? Am I?
But before he can reach me, someone grabs his arm and pulls him into conversation.
I feel my heart drop in disappointment.
I turn my back on him. Nadya and Darya are now talking to a group of young women, and I’m not exactly in the mood to have a conversation.
“I’m going to use the washroom, okay?” I lie to Nadya, wanting to be alone for a while, and scurry away to find a quiet spot near the bar.
I ask for another champagne and perch myself up on a stool, sipping it quietly, staring out at the room. I shift my focus and see Valentin again, and his eyes are laser-focused right on mine.
My lips part, as though I want to say something from all the way here, and he takes one step forward. My heart begins to race as he takes another.
Oh my god. He’s coming over, and I stay perched right there, wondering how long he’ll take.
But just then, a large man steps right in front of me, stealing away the sight of Valentin.
“Mrs. Yuri,” he says, smiling at me. “At last we meet properly.”
“I'm sorry, have we met before?” I smile back politely, confused as hell. Is he one of Valentin’s cousins or something?
“Not formally,” he says, extending his hand. “Viktor Zakharov.”
My blood turns to ice. A Zakharov?
“You look surprised,” he continues. “Did you think we wouldn't cross paths again after you chose the wrong side and cozied up to the Yuris?”
I glance around, looking for any familiar face, but there’s no one there. I'm alone with this man.
“I didn't choose any side.” I try to keep my voice calm. “I'm just trying to live my life.”
He laughs. “A life that should have been in service to my family, not theirs. From what I remember, you had no problem taking an office up in my brother Anton’s building. We had plans for you, you know? Your talents were meant for us.”
“I… I’m sorry.” I stand, knowing that this could get dangerous in a real hurry. “It was nothing personal. Now, if you'll excuse me, I really have to go.”
He grabs my arm before I can slide past him.
“I think you misunderstood me.” His voice turns lethal. “This isn't a choice you get to walk away from. You took our money for your little business, now you owe us.”
The fear crawls up my throat, and my voice shakes when I plead. “Let me go, or I’ll scream.”
“Oh, you can scream all you want, and that’ll just be a little appetizer for what we’ll have in store for you if you don’t listen to what we say. Do you know what happens to people who betray the Zakharov family?”
He gives me an evil, cold grin.
“They tend to have unfortunate accidents. Terrible ones, really. Bones break so easily. Skin burns so quickly.” His thumb caresses my wrist in a gesture that makes my skin crawl. “Such a pretty face. It would be a shame to ruin it.”
My stomach clamps with fear as I realize he means it.
“Is there a problem here?”
Just the sound of Valentin’s voice makes me sway from relief.
Viktor lets go immediately, but continues to tower over me.
Valentin walks right past him and slides up right next to me.
“I was just getting acquainted with your lovely wife,” Viktor shrugs, turning his attention to Valentin with a smile that's all teeth. “You've been keeping her hidden away.”
“My wife chooses who and what is worthy of her attention,” Valentin says smoothly, sliding an arm over my shoulder. I feel his arm tremble against me, like he’s holding back his rage, and the effort it costs him makes my stomach twist.
My palms go slick. My knees threaten to buckle. I’ve never wanted violence before—but after what Viktor just whispered to me, I’d forgive Valentin for every gun, every plier, every blade he’s ever picked up.
“And does she find us unworthy?” Viktor asks innocently. “Her old friends?”
“We both know you’re no friend of my wife’s,” Valentin hisses. “And I’d appreciate it if you’d take a step back before I gouge out your eyes.”
I feel a shiver go down my spine at the possessiveness in his voice, and under these circumstances, I’m grateful for it, even.
Viktor growls, but takes a step back, holding up his hands in mock surrender.
“So protective,” he hisses. “One might think you actually care for her.”
“One would be correct,” Valentin says, like a more honest observation has never been made.
The casual certainty in Valentin’s face, the fire in his eyes, the possessive throw of his arm around my shoulders—for all of it, I am grateful tonight.
“Well then.” Viktor’s face turns red, “I’ll leave you to your evening. But remember what I said, Mrs. Yuri. Some choices have... lasting consequences.”
He melts back into the crowd, and I feel my knees give way. Immediately, Valentin’s arm slides around my waist, holding me up.
“Are you alright?” he asks, letting go when I regain my footing.
I nod, still staring after Viktor.