Chapter Twelve
Valentina
When my eyes snap open, the first thing I notice is that I’m in my underwear.
I bolt upright and fling the duvet off my lap. My clothes are neatly folded on the vanity chair across the room.
Viktor undressed me.
The realization strikes my skin like a shower of hot, needle-like pleasure. Yesterday was the first time in my entire life that I was actually taken care of by a man who wasn't my father.
I swing my legs out of bed. Viktor clearly feels indebted to me because I bought his freedom. But he shouldn't. I didn't bid ten million dollars on him out of the goodness of my heart. I don't do things for "good." I do them to satisfy my own morbid curiosity.
I force myself into the bathroom, taking a hot shower to wash away the lingering phantom touch of his hands. It’s Saturday morning, but I don’t get weekends. I have three back-to-back meetings at the office. I pull on a beige pantsuit and head downstairs.
I find him already sitting at the table, staring at an untouched plate of eggs.
"Good morning, Viktor," I say. "I'm not hungry, but please make sure you eat."
His brow instantly furrows. "You need to eat, Valentina."
"I know how to take care of myself, Viktor," I reply coolly, walking over to the bench by the door to adjust the strap of my heel.
"Doubt it," he mumbles under his breath.
Before I can snap back, he towers over me, but his fingers wrap around my uninjured wrist with terrifying gentleness.
"Valentina. Please," he murmurs.
I let out a long, defeated sigh. I don't know why the hell I keep giving in to this man. Usually, I am one of the most stubborn, unyielding people God ever put on this earth.
"Five minutes," I warn, pulling my hand back and stepping to the table. I slide a small portion of fruit onto a plate and take two bites, just to subdue him.
He stands by the edge of the table. "I have a request."
I look up over my lashes, popping a blueberry into my mouth. "What is it?"
"I am going with you today."
"Absolutely not," I say instantly, my voice hardening. "I’m going to meetings, Viktor. I can’t afford the distraction."
Viktor’s eyes go completely flat, a haunting darkness settling into his features.
"Do you know how I ended up in brothels, Valentina?" he asks quietly.
The change of topic catches me completely off guard. I tilt my head, preparing to suck up every single drop of information I can get out of this man. "What does that have to do with my meetings?"
"Back in Russia, a man approached me," Viktor says, his jaw locking tight as he stares at the wall past my head.
"They told me I was being hired for a high-security job.
A bodyguard for C-list celebrities traveling through Europe.
Good money. Instead, I got drugged on the flight and spent the next several years trafficked. "
Rage flares deep in my chest. This man has been through so much.
"I'm sorry, Viktor."
"Do not be sorry. It’s not your fault," he hisses. "From that point onward, my only purpose in life was my cock."
I stuff another blueberry into my mouth, just to keep myself from blurting out something I'll regret. I am entirely unskilled at handling this.
"I cannot stay cooped up in this penthouse any longer," Viktor says as he invades my space.
"With absolutely nothing to do but think, and think, and think about my past. Please, Valentina.
Let me do something I am actually good at.
I promise you, I will be the best guard you have ever had.
That fucker who touched you yesterday? Any other man who tries to put his hands on your skin? I will rip them apart."
I look down at my bruised wrist, then back up into the burning hazel of his eyes.
"Fine," I sigh. "But we have rules, Viktor. When we are in public, you stay two steps behind me. You listen to what I say. And you do not touch anyone unless they pose a direct physical threat to my life. Do we understand each other?"
Viktor’s face lights up like a child on Christmas morning. "Understood, Valentina."
"Go get dressed. We leave in five."
When he walks back out five minutes later, I instantly regret my life choices. Fuck. He’s wearing a black compression shirt that clings to the ridges of his muscles like a second skin, paired with those same grey sweatpants. He apparently loves those sweatpants.
I force my arousal down and lock it aside. This isn’t the time.
We take the private elevator down to the garage. My primary security team is already waiting, their black SUV idling behind my sedan.
I watch Viktor out of the corner of my eye. For all his terrifying size, he is staring out the tinted window like a child. It’s incredibly cute for a man who just promised to rip someone apart for me.
I shake the thought away the second the driver pulls up to the curb outside my office headquarters. The guard opens my door, and I step out. Viktor is out a millisecond later, his eyes scanning the perimeter like a hawk.
Well, at least he’s taking it seriously.
Suddenly, a screeching roar echoes down the avenue. A battered sedan comes flying around the corner. Before my primary security team can even reach for their jackets, Viktor moves.
He yanks me backward, throwing his entire body over mine and pinning me hard against the concrete.
The car speeds past, and a second later, a barrage of raw eggs goes flying through the air, splattering where I had been standing.
But I am barely processing the petty assault.
All I can process is Viktor. Our chests are slammed together.
Because of the height difference, my face is buried right in the crook of his neck, the hot, clean scent of his skin filling my lungs.
When I tilt my head up, our lips are so close I can feel the scorching heat of his breath against my mouth.
But Viktor isn't thinking about a kiss. He is completely feral. His lips are pulled back, his teeth showing in a snarl as his eyes track the fleeing car. The muscles in his back are completely locked and hard. He looks ready to sprint down the avenue and tear the vehicle apart with his bare hands.
"Let me go," I whisper, my voice tighter than I want it to be.
He slowly releases his iron grip on my waist, stepping back just enough for me to breathe, though his attention remains fixed on the street.
My eyes narrow as I look at the dripping yellow mess on my lobby windows. I already know exactly who this is. Noah Davis and his stupid, pathetic little entourage. Insecure, fragile little boys throwing a literal temper tantrum because their subpar tech startup got rejected by a woman.
My lead security guard rushes over, his face full of eggs. "Ms. Blackwood! Marcus got a photo of the license plate. Should we chase them down?"
I lift a single manicured hand. "No. Do not chase them. With traffic cameras and a clear plate, chasing them through midtown is stupid."
Viktor snaps his head toward me. "They attacked you, Valentina. They need to be broken."
"It was eggs, Viktor," I say, rolling my eyes as I step around the yellow puddles.
"I am going to have them punished for their little tantrums, but I am not their mommy, and I am certainly not their poor wives.
I don't have time to handle this middle-school bullshit myself. My lawyers will deal with them."
Viktor still can't calm down. His large fists are clenching and unclenching.
"You need to calm the fuck down," I murmur to him. "This is just a desperate man crying because he lost his money."
We reach the bank of elevators, and Viktor steps inside with me. But when the elevator dings on the top floor and I move toward the glass conference room, I turn around and place a hand against his hard chest.
He tries to push past me to enter. I shake my head.
"You stay out here with the rest of the security entourage, Viktor," I command. "Some of the things in this room are confidential—things you have no business hearing."
Viktor scowls down at me, his eyes dark with frustration, but he remembers the rules. He takes a step back into the hallway, standing right outside the glass doors.
Viktor might just be the clingiest man on planet Earth.