Chapter 23
Chapter Twenty-Three
Gabbi
Victor Costa’s eyes never left mine.
I kept my expression carefully neutral, hands resting lightly in my lap, body language open but not too confident.
I had played this game before—not with men like him, but with liars, manipulators, men who liked to think they were smarter than me.
He was watching me the same way they all did, like he was trying to decide whether I was worth keeping around or tossing out like trash.
The room was suffocatingly warm, the air thick with the scent of whiskey and burning wood from the fireplace in the corner.
The cabin was nicer than I expected, solid walls, a large desk, old but expensive furniture.
This wasn’t the dwelling of some low-level thug.
This was a man who had power and knew it.
"You’re an interesting little thing," Victor said finally, his voice smooth, measured. He leaned back in his chair, fingers drumming lightly against the armrest. "Lost in the woods, alone, looking for help."
I nodded, keeping my voice soft, hesitant. "Yes. I—" I swallowed, lowering my eyes slightly, as if I was nervous. "I’ve never been so scared in my life. I thought I was going to die out there."
Victor smirked, amused. "And yet, you’re here now. Sitting in my chair. Talking to me."
I let out a breathy laugh, a little self-conscious, a little flustered. "Guess I got lucky."
His smirk deepened. "That’s one word for it."
I could feel the way he was testing me, pushing to see how I reacted. I had to sell this. If I showed too much fear, he’d dismiss me as useless. If I acted too bold, he’d grow suspicious. I had to make him believe I was exactly what he wanted me to be—desperate, grateful, willing.
Victor reached for the glass on his desk, swirling the amber liquid before taking a slow sip. His sharp gaze flicked back to me over the rim. "You drink?"
I hesitated, then nodded. "Sometimes."
He tilted his head, considering me. Then, without breaking eye contact, he poured a second glass and slid it across the desk toward me.
"Drink."
I swallowed my unease and reached for the glass, careful not to let my fingers tremble. The alcohol burned as it went down, warm and strong, coating my throat in fire.
Victor watched me like a predator watching prey.
"You’re lucky my men didn’t put a bullet in you the second they saw you," he mused, taking another sip of his own drink. "People don’t just stumble onto my camp by accident."
I forced a small smile, setting my glass down. "I told you, I didn’t know where I was going."
"You keep saying that," he said, voice slow, thoughtful. "And yet, I don’t believe you."
My pulse quickened, but I forced my body to stay relaxed. I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear, letting my fingers brush against my neck, a subtle, unconscious movement that always drew a man’s eyes. Victor’s gaze flickered, just for a second, before returning to my face.
"I don’t know what else to tell you," I said softly, leaning in slightly, just enough for the firelight to catch on my skin. "I’ve got nowhere to go. No one looking for me. You don’t have to believe me. But I don’t have any other options."
Victor let the silence stretch between us, long and heavy.
Then, slowly, he smiled.
"I like you."
I let out a small, relieved breath, forcing my shoulders to relax. "That’s… good, right?"
His smirk widened, and for the first time, I felt something cold slither down my spine. "That depends."
A knock at the door made my heart leap into my throat. One of Victor’s men stepped inside, his eyes flicking toward me before he leaned down to whisper something in Victor’s ear. I kept my expression neutral, my ears straining to catch even a fragment of what was being said.
Victor didn’t react immediately, just hummed low in his throat, nodding slightly. His fingers tapped against the armrest again, slow, methodical. Then, with a small chuckle, he dismissed the man with a flick of his wrist.
I kept my breathing steady, waiting, knowing something had just shifted.
Victor exhaled, standing from his chair and stepping around the desk toward me. I didn’t move, didn’t flinch as he stopped in front of me, his presence looming, his scent a mixture of expensive cologne and whiskey.
"You want to stay here?" he murmured, his voice dipping lower, almost intimate.
I nodded, my lips parting slightly. "Yes."
"Prove it."
His fingers lifted, tracing the edge of my jaw, featherlight, testing. I kept my breath even, my body still, letting him believe I was too na?ve or too desperate to be afraid.
"You’re beautiful," he murmured, tilting his head slightly. "It would be a shame to waste that."
My stomach curled, but I kept my expression carefully controlled, let a small, uncertain smile play on my lips. "I don’t want to be wasted."
Victor chuckled, his thumb grazing my chin before he finally pulled back, eyes sharp with amusement.
"Good girl," he said, voice smooth like silk. "Let’s see how useful you really are."
I forced my muscles to stay loose, forced my breath to remain steady, forced my lips into something that wasn’t quite a smile.
Because I had just stepped into the fire.
And there was no turning back now.