Chapter Thirteen
Valentina
The meeting is a pitch from an outside digital distribution conglomerate—essentially, middlemen who control how our products get shipped to overseas retailers.
But dealing with outside executives is always hectic, and I’m sitting across from a particularly smug senior partner named Harrison Vance.
Harrison wears a condescending smirk that suggests he thinks he’s the smartest man in the room. He’s been looking at me with amusement ever since I walked in, clearly having caught the tail end of the egg fiasco.
"Well, Valentina," Harrison drawls, spinning a pen between his fingers. "That was quite a show down there."
The rest of the board members stiffen. Through the glass walls behind Harrison, I can see Viktor standing guard, his eyes locked onto the back of Harrison’s head.
It makes me feel even more confident. Safe.
"That is what happens when you refuse to fund a little boy’s sub-par project," I hum as I sort through the papers in front of me. "They throw tantrums. Let’s hope that’s not what happens to you by the end of this hour, Harrison—although I’d like to assume you’re old enough to act better."
A few of his junior executives look down at their tablets, suddenly very interested in whatever is on them.
"Of course, of course. Just a bit of light office humor," Harrison mumbles, his eyes sliding past me to land directly on Viktor. His smirk turns ugly, dripping with misogyny. "Though, I must say... it seems that ten-million-dollar boy toy you picked up from the auction block has his benefits."
I try to control my anger. But it’s hard.
"Harrison, let’s be entirely clear about something," I hiss. "I don’t enjoy a middleman with a bloated overhead and a hair-plug prescription being this obsessed with my personal life. You seem to have forgotten that the only reason you are sitting in my chair is because I haven’t decided to replace your entire distribution network yet. "
Harrison’s face goes from tan to a blotchy red. "Now see here—"
"We are done," I interrupt, slamming my laptop shut.
On paper, this contract would have been a phenomenal deal.
It would have locked in our European logistics for the next three years.
But intuition is the exact thing that allowed me to triple my father’s inheritance, and right now, my gut is screaming at me that Harrison Vance is up to no good.
I refuse to put my trust in the hands of a man who can’t even keep his sexism out of a pitch meeting.
"I am pulling our interest from this merger," I state smoothly, rising to my feet.
Harrison stumbles up from his chair, panicked now that the hundred-million-dollar deal is evaporating in front of his eyes. "Are you serious? You’re that sensitive? Pulling out of a multi-million-dollar deal over a joke? You’re being emotional."
Being emotional.
Fuck. Him.
He thought I was far too deep into this deal to pull out over his misogyny disguised as humor. He was wrong.
"Gather your little papers, Harrison. You have exactly two minutes before I have my 'boy toy' personally throw you down the elevator shaft."
Harrison pales, his eyes darting back to the glass where Viktor stands.
Without another word, Harrison and his entourage scramble to grab their briefcases and leave.
Now that the door is shut on his company, my focus shifts to the alternatives. There’s a boutique logistics firm out of Munich that’s been begging for a meeting. I’ll have Sarah pull their files before lunch.
But the moment I look back at Viktor and see him engaged with my primary security team, I get distracted. Marcus and John—two seasoned ex-military men—are standing around him. But they aren’t looking down on him, like I initially feared. In fact, they are listening to him with focus.
Viktor is gesturing with his scarred hands as he points toward the elevator bank and then back toward the emergency stairwell.
“You’re too focused on the street,” he says. “The second she gets out of the car, both of you look outward. That leaves this entire side open.”
John frowns at the layout. “The service entrance?”
“Yeah.” Viktor nods once. “If somebody actually wants to get close to her, they’re not coming from the front where you can see them. They sit back there looking like they belong. Delivery guy. Maintenance. Whatever works.”
“Shit. You’re right,” Marcus hums.
“One of you needs to cover the rear before the car door even opens,” Viktor continues. “The other guy walks her in. Simple.”
John looks back at him. “You really think someone would wait inside the blind spot?”
Viktor gives him a flat look. “That’s exactly where I’d wait.”
How the hell is he this good at this?
As if sensing my gaze, Viktor’s head snaps in my direction. Marcus and John immediately straighten up, clearing their throats when they spot me.
"Ms. Blackwood," Marcus says, giving a respectful nod. "We’re ready when you are."
I keep my eyes pinned on Viktor as I walk toward them. He steps into his position two paces behind me.
I’m fucked because I’m starting to look at him as a shield. Feeling protected. Safe. And I can’t do that. Especially because this—whatever the fuck this is—has a three-month expiration date.