Chapter 6 #3
She shook her head. When she looked back, he was still watching her with that same unwavering attention. “Maybe both things are true.”
“Tell me.” Quiet, but nothing casual about it. Viktor never asked for her attention halfway — when he focused on her, everything else seemed to disappear.
“You really don’t make this easy.”
“No.”
A small smile touched his mouth, and Josephine felt the familiar rush that came whenever he looked pleased — a reaction she could never seem to stop. “For years I always had somewhere else to be,” she said quietly. “Another city. Another performance. Another flight.”
He stayed silent, giving her his full attention.
“I always told myself I liked it that way.” She folded her hands and looked at him directly. “Now I’m not so sure.”
The silence after felt heavy with awareness. He leaned back slightly but never broke eye contact.
“You’re staying.” Not a question.
She laughed softly. “See? That’s exactly what I’m talking about.”
“What?”
“You say things like they’re already decided.”
“Some things are.”
The answer should have irritated her. Instead it tightened her stomach pleasantly. She looked away first, because holding his gaze any longer felt increasingly dangerous.
When dinner ended, she carried the dishes to the kitchen, unsurprised when he followed — she could feel his presence before she even turned around.
That awareness had become automatic. By the time she set the dishes beside the sink and faced him, he stood only a few feet away, and the kitchen suddenly felt much smaller than it had an hour earlier.
“You’re thinking again.”
“Yes.”
“About what?”
She laughed softly. “You.”
That earned a visible reaction — his gaze darkened slightly, the look settling low in her stomach. He took a slow step closer, deliberate, controlled, confident, giving her every chance to create distance if she wanted it. Josephine stayed exactly where she was.
“Tell me,” he said quietly. “What about me?”
She looked up at him, heartbeat speeding, and studied him for a moment — the broad shoulders, the calm confidence, the certainty woven into everything he did. “I think I’ve spent a long time running.”
He stayed completely still. “And?”
She smiled slowly. “And I don’t feel like running anymore.”
Something shifted in his expression — not surprise. More like satisfaction. She closed the remaining distance and placed both hands against his chest. He glanced down, then back to her face.
“You’re very confident tonight.”
“Maybe.”
His hands settled at her waist. “Maybe?”
“Maybe I’m tired of pretending I don’t know what I want.”
The air between them tightened. Neither moved away. Neither looked away. His hands stayed at her waist, steady and possessive without apology, and she could feel the heat of him through his shirt — every breath suddenly more difficult than it had been a few minutes earlier.
After several seconds, she took a slow breath. “I should probably warn you about something.”
One of his eyebrows lifted. “Should you?”
“Yes.”
“Then I’m listening.”
She stepped even closer, almost no space left between them, pulse hammering hard enough that she was certain he could feel it. “If we’re doing this,” she said quietly, “I’m not letting you go.”
For several seconds he simply stared at her. Then he smiled — not casual, not amused, but deeply satisfied. The look alone made her breath catch.
“Good.” Low and certain.
She narrowed her eyes immediately. “That’s all you have to say?”
“Yes.”
“That was an important declaration.”
“I know.”
“And your response is good?”
His hands tightened slightly at her waist — small movement, but it woke every nerve ending in her body.
“Yes.”
She tried hard to look offended, fighting laughter and attraction at the same time. “Why?”
The question came out softer than she intended. He looked at her for several seconds, gaze never leaving hers.
“Because that’s exactly what I wanted.”
The words settled between them. She stared at him and understood he meant every syllable — no teasing, no attempt to soften the truth. He looked entirely pleased that she’d finally stopped trying to keep one foot out the door.
“You planned that answer.”
“No.”
“You did.”
“I didn’t need to.” He stepped closer until she could feel the solid line of his body against hers. “I’ve been waiting a long time to hear you say it.”
The admission sent another rush of heat through her. She shook her head, laughing softly. “You are impossible.”
“Yes,” he said immediately. “I’ve heard that before.”
His hands stayed at her waist while he looked down at her, the confidence in his expression never wavering, neither did the certainty.
For once, Josephine didn’t fight it. She simply stood there, looking back at him while his gaze moved slowly across her face, the silence between them thick with awareness and anticipation.
He smiled again, and this time there was no mistaking the satisfaction in it.
Josephine had stopped running. And Viktor looked very much like a man who intended to keep her exactly where she was.