Chapter Sixteen
Valentina
But I can't close my eyes while his room is empty.
"Where were you?" I demand.
Viktor’s brow pulls down into a scowl. "Working."
"Until four in the morning?" I snap, crossing my arms over my chest.
"I was at a club," he finally admits, letting out a long sigh as he unbuttons the top two buttons of his collar.
A blinding wave of red crashes through my mind. I am entirely certain the cells of my epidermis are bursting from the sheer pressure of my blood pressure spike. Viktor. Out at a nightclub. Surrounded by alcohol, and hundreds of beautiful women. The rage scratches my throat bloody.
"What exactly were you doing at a club, Viktor?" I hiss.
“Bouncer, Valentina."
The suffocating knot in my chest loosens just a fraction. He was just working. But the jealousy doesn't disappear.
"Right," I murmur. "I wouldn't know. I see you go to Sarah for absolutely everything now, so you can't blame me for being out of the loop."
He walks over to the couch and sinks into the cushions, dropping his head back against the headrest with a heavy groan. He pats the space next to him.
I hesitate for a second before sitting down. But the moment I do, he subtly slides down to the absolute opposite end of the couch. He leaves so much space between us that I feel like crying.
I haven't cried since the day my father died. I don't do tears. What in the fuck is he doing to me?
"Yeah. Sarah has been helping me," Viktor says, reaching down to rub his calves.
I turn my entire body to face him, the frustration bubbling over until I can no longer contain it. "I have been the one helping you. Why go to my assistant instead of me?"
Viktor stops rubbing his leg. He snaps his head toward me.
"Because how the fuck am I supposed to ask you for help," he roars, "when the entire point of this is to prove to you that I am a man?
When I am trying to prove I am worthy of standing beside you?
To lead with you? I am earning my way to your level so that when I finally touch you.
.. you will know it is because I choose to. Not because I owe you."
It’s like he’s stabbing me in the chest. Maybe for the first time, I see the scope of the damage I’ve done. It’s bad. But even with my guilty conscience, I can’t stop myself. Before my brain can veto my mouth, I am making demands, throwing out questions I have absolutely no right to ask.
"And the clubs, Viktor?" I press. "Are any of the women there interesting you? Are you having fun playing the big, protective man for them?"
Viktor’s eyes narrow into slits.
"Ah," he murmurs, a dark smile pulling at the corner of his lips. It’s a terrifying expression. "I see. You want to know if I am fucking others."
Yes. Exactly that.
"Why wouldn't I?" he continues, making my stomach violently twist. "The clubs are full of beautiful girls, Valentina.
Girls who do not look at me with pity. Girls who gladly press their bodies against mine and whisper how big, how strong I am.
Maybe after a long shift, I take one into the back alley.
Maybe I let her take care of the frustration you leave me with. "
A blinding pain hits me in the chest. I genuinely think my heart is tearing in two. The image he’s painting makes me want to throw up. I open my mouth to say something, but nothing comes out.
Seeing the absolute devastation on my face, Viktor’s cruel smile vanishes.
He lets out a harsh growl and lunges across the cushions. His hand cups the back of my neck, his fingers tangling in my hair as he yanks me forward. He forces my face inches from his, his grip possessive.
"You are so stupidly blind," he growls, his teeth bared as his hot breath fans across my lips. "Did you actually believe that bullshit? I was being sarcastic, Valentina, but you are so eager to think the worst of me that you bought it hook, line, and sinker."
"Viktor—"
"Listen to me," he commands, his thumb pressing hard against my jawline.
"There are no other women. I do not look at them.
When they touch my arm to ask for directions, it makes my skin crawl.
My cock only grows hard for you. My mind only drives itself mad thinking about you.
I am burning alive in this penthouse every single night because the only woman I want is too proud to let me in. "
He tightens his grip for one agonizing second before he abruptly lets go.
"Go to sleep, Valentina," he rasps, turning his back on me as he walks toward his bedroom. "You have work tomorrow. And I have eight million dollars left to earn."