Chapter 14 Vivika
VIVIKA
The front door opens and closes somewhere in the house, and the sound of it pulls me off the bed where I've been lying in the dark staring at the barred window for what feels like hours.
Lev's footsteps move through the rooms with a heaviness that tells me something is wrong, and I press my ear against the locked door, straining to track his progress through his own home.
It's late—how late I don't know because there's no clock in this room and they took my phone days ago—but it's dark outside now. I'm starving, but I'd do a hunger strike if it got him to let me out of here. I was a fool for acting out and I regret it.
The footsteps grow louder as Lev moves down the hallway toward the door, and they stop just on the other side.
Then I hear him pacing back and forth like a caged animal trying to decide what to do with its prey.
He's clearly upset or something, probably trying to decide what to do with me now that I'm not compliant.
It scares me, but in the same breath I feel my mind reaching toward him, wondering what could be bothering him and if I could alleviate that pressure.
It's sickening that I do this, because I should, and I have every right to, hate him.
Nothing he's done to me has been healthy or good.
Yet here I am, feeling compassion as I splay my palm on the cold wood and press my forehead there, shutting my eyes.
I hold my breath so I can hear what he's doing more clearly.
His voice rumbles on the other side of the door, and it takes me a moment to realize he's on the phone. The words are a dirty mix of Ukrainian and Russian, switching between languages mid-sentence, and I press closer until my cheek is flat against the cold wood and my ear lies flush with it.
"…shipment delayed at the border… fucking Veche routes still blocked… can't get anything into Romania until we resolve this situation…"
My heart sinks as I start to put together the facts.
He's talking about a weapons shipment being delayed down the trade routes he promised me were being secured by my act.
I've been duped into helping them smuggle weapons and I played right into his hands so easily.
And this time, I want to be angry, but all I can feel is broken and sad.
He lied to me.
There are no trafficked women being saved because of my sacrifice—there never were any women at all.
It was just a story designed to make me cooperate.
I have always been a tool in his arsenal, and to know that the sex between us meant nothing is devastating.
He could just throw me away and that would be that.
When he stops talking, he sighs heavily, and I assume the call is over.
I think about banging on the door and begging him to let me out, but that might trigger volatile emotions in both of us and the last thing I want is to end up screaming and crying again.
I hate it. It's not in my nature to do that.
But this room is dark and cold, and I want to go out there and eat. I don't want to be alone.
Then keys jingle on the other side of the door.
The lock clicks.
And I stumble backward as the door swings open. Lev stands in the doorway with his tie loosened and his jaw tight, and his dark eyes find mine across the dim room.
"We need to talk," he says, and his voice carries an edge I haven't heard before. He sounds defeated or discouraged, not his typical in-control anger. Every ounce of frustration I have with him evaporates as I take in his posture and the way his shoulders sag. Something bad really has happened.
I open my mouth to respond, but the words won't come. I've never been good at confrontation, anyway. I'm the woman who lets people cut in front of her at the grocery store and apologizes when someone else bumps into her. I swallow my anger rather than cause a scene.
"The hit at the Mariinsky," Lev says, stepping into the room and closing the door behind him. "It wasn't about me, Vivika." I'm confused, and I hug my arms over my belly as I study his face. "The shooter, the men who came after us—they weren't trying to kill me."
I shake my head and hug myself tighter. "What are you talking about?"
"They were trying to kill you." He moves closer, and I take another step back until my legs hit the edge of the bed. "Which means I need to be with you around the clock from now on. I can't let you out of my sight."
"That's impossible," I manage as I sink onto the mattress and stare up at him. It's as I feared it was, and I'm not sure how to feel about that. "Why would anyone want to kill me? I'm nobody. I'm just pretending to be—"
"You're pretending to be Ana Veche, and someone wants Ana Veche dead." Lev stops in front of me, close enough that I have to tilt my head back to meet his eyes. "Yaros gave the order himself."
"Her own brother?" I almost feel paralyzed as I stare up at him with narrowed eyes. "Why would her brother want her dead?"
"The only reason he would do it is for power.
He wants her authority and he can't have it when she's alive.
" Lev pulls his tie free and tosses it onto the dresser.
"Something happened between them, something bad enough that Yaros would rather kill the woman he thinks is his sister than let her keep talking to his allies. "
I scoot back onto the mattress because my legs won't hold me anymore. The conversation about weapons that I just overheard is gone from my mind as my thoughts swarm like angry bees. They want me dead? I signed up to help these men and now the people I’m supposed to be impressing are gunning for me. It doesn't seem fair.
"I don't understand," I say in a tiny voice. "Why would he kill his own family?"
Lev sits down beside me, and the mattress dips as he lays a hand on my knee. "Killing your own blood doesn't make sense to me either. But Yaros only sees power. Ana stood between him and a throne, and now you're standing in her place."
"So he'll keep trying." My hands are shaking and I can't make them stop.
"Until I stop him." Lev's hand finds mine, and he weaves his fingers between mine. "I'm going to protect you, Vivika. I won't let them touch a hair on your head."
Fear is a strange thing. It has the capability of shifting everything you thought you knew and changing the course of your life.
I want to hate this man for all of this because it's his fault, but in the same fucking breath I realize he may very well be the only reason I'm alive.
The only reason I stay alive. And he's promising me to not let anything happen to me.
I don't know if that’s because of the sex we had or if he is developing feelings for me. And I don't care. The only thing I feel is fear, and it makes me want to cling to him.
"I'm scared," I whisper.
"I know you are." He shifts closer until his thigh presses against mine and I can see his heartbeat in his neck. "But you're safe with me."
His free hand comes up to brush a strand of hair from my face and he cups my cheek.
The tenderness he's displaying is unholy, so powerful I'm unraveling.
This isn't the man who locked me in here.
Something changed when he learned they were trying to kill me, and I'm trying to understand what happened without getting whiplash.
Lev Gravitch is making my heart feel something dangerous, and I like it too much.
Then his lips find mine in the darkness, and I don't pull away. His hands slide around my waist, pulling me against him until I can feel his heartbeat through his chest.
"Did you like it?" he murmurs against my mouth. "Last time, when I touched you. Did you like the way I made you feel?"
I hate myself for the answer that rises to my lips. "Very much," I breathe, remembering just how he made me feel as warmth surges to my groin.
"Do you want me to do it again?"
I nod, my breath catching as his eyes darken with intent.
His thumb traces my lower lip, pulling it down until it pops back up, and I feel the heat building between us, a twisted pull that defies everything rational.
He leans in, kissing me deeper, his tongue claiming my mouth until I'm breathless.
Then he pulls back and his hand slides to the back of my neck, guiding me downward.
My hands tremble as I unbuckle his belt, freeing him from his pants.
His dick springs out completely rock hard and I wrap my hand around the base, stroking a few times, feeling him throb.
He groans and his grip tightens in my hair, urging me forward, so I take him into my mouth, the salt of his skin filling my senses.
I swirl my tongue around his head, sucking deeper, hollowing my cheeks as I bob my head. His hips buck slightly, pushing him farther down my throat, and I gag a little but don't stop. Tears prick my eyes from the effort, but the way he praises me makes it worth it.
"Good girl," he murmurs in a thick voice. "You're perfect like this, taking me so well. Look at you, so eager for my dick."
I hum around him, the vibration drawing another groan from his lips. His free hand cups my jaw, thumb stroking my cheek as I work him faster, my saliva coating him, dripping down. And he thrusts gently, fucking my mouth while I relax my throat to take more.
"Fuck, Vivika, you're incredible," he says, his breath ragged. "Such a sweet mouth, made for me." It's intoxicating the way he speaks to me. It's making my core tighten and grow moist.
He suddenly pulls me off him and flips me onto my back in one fluid motion.
The mattress shifts under his weight as he pins me down.
His hands capture my wrists above my head, holding them there with one large palm while the other trails down my body, shoving up my shirt to expose my breasts.
He leans down, sucking one nipple into his mouth, biting just enough to make me arch.
Pain sparks into pleasure, and I whimper, my legs parting instinctively.
"You drive me insane," he whispers against my skin, his teeth grazing my collarbone. "So beautiful… I can't get enough of you."
His hand slides lower, dipping under my waistband, fingers finding my slick folds.
He circles my clit, making me gasp, and my hips rise to meet him.
Two fingers push inside me, curling, stroking that spot that sends sparks through my veins as he pumps them in and out, his thumb pressing on my clit, building the pressure until I'm writhing under him.
His weight keeps me pinned, and the restraint heightens everything—the darkness of the room, the captivity, the forbidden pull between us. It's intoxicating how quickly he can bring me to the edge and hold me there, minutes really, and as soon as he speaks I know I'm done.
"Come for me, Vivika," he demands. "Let me feel you clench around my fingers. You're mine, and I want to hear you moan my name."
The orgasm crashes over me, waves of heat pulsing through my core. I do moan his fucking name as my eyes roll back in my head and my body arches upward. I shake, walls fluttering around his fingers but he doesn't stop drawing it out until I'm spent, panting, my skin flushed and sensitive.
When he withdraws his hand, bringing his fingers to his lips tasting me, the sight makes my stomach twist with fresh lust.
"Delicious," he says, eyes gleaming. "You taste like heaven. Now, turn over for me."
I obey, rolling onto my stomach, my heart pounding.
He positions me on my knees, ass up, and I feel exposed and vulnerable as his hands spread my cheeks, thumbs brushing over my tight hole.
I tense, anticipation mingling with nerves as he spits directly onto my ass and I shiver.
One finger circles the rim, pressing in gently, stretching me while his other hand slaps my cheek hard.
I gasp. The burn is intense at first, but he works it in and out, adding more spit, as his other hand strokes my hip in soothing circles to erase some of the sting. I'm shuddering and gritting my teeth in anticipation of what he's about to do.
"Relax, beautiful," he coos. "You're doing so well. Look at you, opening up for me. Such a good girl, taking what I give you."
He adds a second finger, scissoring them, stretching me further.
The fullness builds from pain into pleasure as he curls his fingers, hitting nerves that make me moan into the pillow.
His praise washes over me, easing the discomfort, turning it into something dark.
I'm his, marked by this intimacy, and the thought both terrifies and excites me.
"Perfect," he murmurs. "I'm going to fuck your ass, Vivika, and you're going to come again for me."
He pulls his fingers out, spitting on me again before positioning his dick at my entrance.
He pushes in inch by inch, filling me completely, and I gasp and claw at the sheets as the stretch burns through me.
But he holds my hips steady, one hand reaching around to rub my clit.
I've never had such incredible sensations as these.
Lev begins to thrust faster, smacking my ass every few seconds as he pairs the stimulation on my clit with the way he works his hips and I groan into the pillow, ready to come all over him again.
"Fuck, you're tight," he groans. "So fucking good, squeezing me like that."
His fingers work my clit relentlessly, and the pressure builds again, coiling tight.
He spanks my ass and the sting pushes me over the edge.
I shatter, my body convulsing, waves of ecstasy ripping through me as he thrusts harder, chasing his own release.
When he comes with a deep groan, spilling inside me, he lets out a growl of pleasure and buries himself as deep as he can before leaning down to bite the back of my shoulder.
We collapse together, his body draped over mine, and we're both breathing hard. When he pulls out carefully, rolling me into his arms, his lips brush my forehead. In the aftermath, the attraction lingers, but so does this dangerous connection, binding us in the shadows.
Sleep takes me slowly, pulling me down into darkness while Lev's heartbeat thuds beneath my ear and his hand rests heavily on my hip.
The fear is still coiled in my chest, reminding me that someone wants me dead.
But wrapped in the arms of the man who might be my only protection or my greatest threat, I let myself drift away.
Tomorrow, I'll hate myself for what I let him do tonight.
But right now, I just want to feel safe, even if safety is the biggest lie of all.