Chapter 14
Viktor
Jack lounged against the edge of my desk, wearing that insufferable smirk he got whenever he was about to say something that made me want to rearrange his face.
"You know, I always thought our organization's cash flow was pretty healthy."
Jack raised an eyebrow and pulled a paper report from his briefcase, tossing it onto the desk in front of me.
"So what's the deal? Business gotten so bad you're hawking your personal collection on street corners now?"
I frowned, my eyes dropping to the report.
"What the hell are you talking about?" I opened it to the first page.
"Jimmy Brooks. Your little lover's deadbeat brother.
" Jack shrugged, crossing his arms over his chest. "This gambling addict's been real busy on the black market this past week.
He's unloaded multiple items to three different underground buyers.
And every single one of them came from inside your manor. "
My gaze fixed on the high-resolution surveillance photos attached to the report.
In the first one, Jimmy stood in a filthy alley, holding a small landscape painting, haggling with some gang punk.
The next showed several sets of silver tableware bearing the Gromov family crest. The last was a custom signet ring I recognized immediately.
"Took me some real legwork to track this down.
" Jack's tone turned serious, though the mockery never quite left.
"These are all genuine. You've got a rat inside with sticky fingers, sneaking this stuff out to Jimmy.
I've already got people checking the security footage and staff schedules.
We'll flush out that dead man walking soon enough. "
I stared at the photograph of the ring, confirming it was the one I'd paid a fortune to acquire.
"This is what you've been skulking around about?"
"Watching you squirm is part of my job description."
Jack leaned closer, planting his hands on my desk and looking me dead in the eye.
"This Jimmy's been running his mouth too. Going around telling everyone, 'My sister's Viktor Gromov's woman.' Every third-rate businessman and street hustler desperate to cozy up to our operation is lining up to throw money at him."
Jack straightened and whistled low.
"Viktor, I gotta hand it to you. This woman you brought home is something else." He shook his head, voice dripping with amusement. "Forget a one-year contract. What they're raking in now could probably fund ten kids for you."
I didn't respond immediately. I closed the report and tossed it toward the corner of the desk.
Jimmy Brooks profiting outside was fact. A traitor inside the manor smuggling out goods was fact.
But nothing in this report directly proved Hazel was involved in her brother's resale operation.
I didn't want to paint her with the same brush as that waste of space without concrete evidence.
"Get out. Find the inside thief and report back to me. As for Jimmy, don't touch him yet." I gave Jack his orders.
"That all?" Jack pressed, insufferable as ever.
I answered with a look that could strip paint.
Jack shrugged, as if he'd expected all along that I wouldn't touch Hazel, and walked out of the study.
The door clicked shut. I poured myself a drink. The burn down my throat did nothing to kill the irritation churning inside me.
I needed to figure out what role Hazel played in this story.
Was she an innocent victim, or was she in on it with her brother?
Reading lies was one of my best skills.
But with Hazel, I'd lost that confidence.
Maybe it was that face of hers, too sincere for its own good. Maybe it was because I'd developed feelings I shouldn't have.
A sharp knock interrupted my thoughts.
"Come in." I set down my glass.
The door swung open. Hazel strode in.
She wore a simple light-colored dress today, her face pale.
"Viktor." Her voice came fast, urgent. "The charity gala the day after tomorrow. You and Anya are attending, right?"
"Yes." I leaned back in my chair, studying her face. "Why?"
"I want to go with you."
Hazel never asked for anything. She moved through this manor carefully, afraid to cause trouble for anyone. So this request caught me off guard.
"Why?" I asked flatly.
"I just... I want to see what it's like." Hazel avoided my eyes, biting her lower lip. No real explanation.
I watched her evasive gaze.
Clearly, Hazel wasn't telling the truth. Whatever she was hiding, she was lying to me.
Concealment and deception had always been my biggest triggers.
"You just want to go?" I smiled, leaning forward slightly. "Hazel, I never bring women without official standing to public events."
Hazel stared at me, startled. "Standing?"
"What capacity do you plan to attend in?" I stood and walked toward her slowly.
My fingers traced along her arm, up over her shoulder, finally stopping at her cheek.
I lowered my head, my breath falling against her lips, close enough to kiss.
"Tell me, Hazel." My voice dropped low, coaxing. "What do you want to be standing beside me?"
Hazel's body flinched. Her hands twisted anxiously at her sides.
The study fell silent except for the ticking of the clock on the wall.
I waited. But Hazel said nothing.
Whether she'd abandoned her plan or was playing coy, I didn't know.
Eventually, I lost patience. I returned to my chair and flipped open a file.
"Sorry. I don't parade women who mean nothing to me in public." I didn't look up. "If there's nothing else, leave."
"Viktor." Hazel's voice suddenly broke through, trembling. "I want to go as your girlfriend."
My hand froze mid-air.
"I know I don't deserve it." Hazel drew a shaky breath, as if summoning every ounce of courage. "But if you don't hate me, maybe you could give me a chance."
I looked at her. Even facing this confession, I felt no joy.
Even though I'd been moved by her kiss.
Even though last night I'd briefly entertained the idea that if she bore my child, maybe we could maintain something more lasting than a contract.
I was certain I'd developed feelings for her.
And what did it amount to?
Just another con to help her brother move stolen goods.
She'd turned that kiss into currency, trading it for a ticket into high society, for official recognition as Viktor Gromov's woman.
If she stood beside me tonight as my girlfriend, the price on everything Jimmy was hawking would multiply tenfold. Those punks would fall over themselves throwing money at the Brooks siblings.
I'd misjudged her after all.
From the start, she'd been nothing but a calculating woman chasing money and status.
But I only found her pathetically stupid.
If she'd truly won my heart completely, the wealth and power she could've had would've dwarfed whatever pocket change she'd make reselling junk.
But she'd chosen this idiotic path instead.
"Ha." A sharp, cold laugh escaped me.
Hazel jumped, staring at me nervously.
"One kiss and suddenly the hired womb thinks she's respectable enough for public display?" I stood and walked toward her slowly. "Hazel, how can you be stupid enough to make me laugh?"
Hazel's eyes widened in disbelief. Her lips trembled. Tears welled instantly.
"Just another gold digger." My voice held no warmth. "I treated you well because you're carrying my child. And that gave you these pathetic delusions. Who do you think you are? You think you deserve to stand beside me?"
"You're nothing but a contract fuck buddy who signed on for cash." I let each word land with precision. "To me, you're nothing. You have no right to make this kind of demand."
Hazel's body swayed violently. She bit down hard on her lower lip, desperately forcing back tears.
"I'm sorry." Her voice fractured, but she still managed a smile. "I understand. I'll control myself. I won't cause you trouble."
Seeing that forced smile, something in my chest twisted painfully. For a moment, I wondered if I'd been too cruel.
Hazel wiped away a stray tear, hesitated, then spoke again.
"But that gala matters to me. I don't need to be your date. Even if I go in as staff, as an attendant. I'll trade next year's payment for it."
Watching her cling so desperately to this goal, I gave up on her completely.
For the chance to appear publicly, to help her brother's money scheme, she'd throw away even basic dignity.
I was disgusted with myself for ever feeling anything for a woman like this.
"Fine. If you really want to go to the party, then pay the price."
I stepped back, leaning against the edge of the desk, legs slightly apart.
A vicious impulse for revenge made me yank open my belt buckle and unzip my pants.
"Make yourself useful." I looked down at her, my meaning unmistakable as I gestured with my chin.
"Get on your knees. Then crawl over here like the bitch you are."
Hazel stood frozen, her face drained of all color.
"What are you waiting for?" I let my voice turn harsh, mocking. "This is what you wanted, isn't it? A transaction. So transact."
She didn't move. Just stared at me with those wide, wounded eyes.
"Don't test my patience, Hazel." My tone sharpened. "You think you're too good for this? You just offered to sell yourself for a party invitation. At least have the decency to follow through."
Her breath hitched. Tears spilled over, streaming down her cheeks.
"I said kneel." Each word came out clipped, brutal. "Or get the hell out and forget the gala. Your choice."
For a long moment, she stood there trembling. Then, slowly, agonizingly, she sank to her knees.
The sight of her lowering herself gutted me in a way I refused to acknowledge. I told myself this was what she deserved. What she'd brought on herself.
She began to crawl forward, her movements hesitant, broken.
"Faster." I sneered. "You think I have all day? Show me how badly you want this."
When she finally reached me, kneeling between my legs, she looked up with tear-streaked cheeks. Her hands shook as they hovered near my thighs.
"Well?" I gripped her chin roughly. "Suddenly shy? You were bold enough to throw yourself at me a minute ago."
"Viktor, please—"
"Please what?" I cut her off. "Please let you debase yourself for money? That's what you're here for, isn't it? So stop stalling and put that mouth to work."
She flinched like I'd struck her. Fresh tears fell.
Her hands fumbled at my zipper. Clumsy. Uncertain. Like she'd never done this before.
The act was almost convincing.
"Jesus Christ." I grabbed the back of her head, fingers tangling in her hair. "Stop playing the innocent virgin. We both know what you are."
I forced myself into her mouth without warning.
She gagged immediately, her whole body jerking back. But I held her in place, my grip unrelenting.
"Take it." My voice came out rough. "This is what you signed up for."
I thrust deeper, watching her eyes squeeze shut. Tears and saliva mixed, dripping down her chin.
She tried to pull away, turning her head, throat convulsing. But before she could spit me out, I shoved back in harder.
"Don't you dare." I tightened my hold on her hair. "You don't get to quit now."
Her hands pushed weakly against my thighs. Muffled sounds of distress vibrated around me.
I should have stopped. Every decent part of me screamed to stop.
But the betrayal, the rage, drowned out everything else.
When I finally released, I didn't pull out. I held her there, forcing her to swallow.
She choked, her body heaving. The moment I let go, she doubled over, retching.
I grabbed her throat, squeezing just enough to make her freeze.
"Swallow it." My voice was ice. "All of it. Don't you dare waste a drop."
She whimpered, her throat working as she forced it down, mixed with bile and spit.
"Open your mouth," I ordered. "Show me."
Slowly, she obeyed. Fresh tears streamed down her face as she opened wide, proving her compliance.
Something cracked inside my chest at the sight.
I shoved it down viciously. This was manipulation. Just another ploy for sympathy.
"Good girl." The words tasted like poison. "Now get on the bed."
She stared at me, uncomprehending.
"I said get on the bed. On your hands and knees. Now."
Hazel climbed onto the bed with shaking limbs, positioning herself as ordered.
I pulled off my tie, moving behind her. Before she could react, I wrapped the silk over her eyes and knotted it tight.
"Viktor—"
"Quiet." I unbuckled my belt slowly, letting the leather rasp fill the silence. "You wanted this. Remember that."
The first strike landed across her ass. Not hard enough to truly hurt, but enough to sting.
She cried out, flinching forward.
"Stay still." I brought the belt down again, this time across her thighs.
"Please—" Her voice broke. "Please stop—"
"Stop?" I laughed bitterly. "This is what you chose, Hazel. What you sold yourself for. A whore should expect to be treated like one."
Another strike, lighter, across her already dripped pussy.
She sobbed openly now, her body trembling.
I raised the belt again, then paused. The fabric over her eyes was dark with tears.
My hand lowered.
Fuck.
I threw the belt aside and positioned myself behind her. Without preamble, I pushed inside.
She was wet. Unbearably so.
"Even like this," I hissed, gripping her hips bruisingly tight, "your body can't help itself, can it?"
I thrust hard, punishing, trying to exorcise something I couldn't name.
Each movement felt like tearing myself apart. Like hating her would somehow make this hurt less.
It didn't.
She bit back her cries, her silence somehow worse than screaming.
I fucked her mechanically, chasing a release that felt more like punishment for us both.
When I finally came, emptying inside her with a groan I barely recognized as my own, I felt nothing but hollow.
I pulled out and stepped back, watching her collapse onto the mattress, still blindfolded.
She lay there, broken and shaking, not moving to remove the tie.
"Can I go to the gala?" Her voice was barely a whisper. Wrecked.
Pain lanced through my chest, sharp and unrelenting.
"Yes." The word came out hoarse.
She reached up with trembling fingers and pulled the blindfold away. Her eyes were swollen, red, unfocused.
She didn't look at me as she climbed off the bed and gathered her dress.
I watched her leave, the door closing softly behind her.
The silence that followed was deafening.
I sank into my chair and poured another drink. Then another.
But no amount of alcohol could wash away the image of her tears soaking through that silk tie.
Or the sickening realization that hurting her hadn't made me feel any better at all.