Chapter Twenty
Chapter Nineteen
Valentina
I toss and turn as I curse myself for the thousandth time.
I called him daddy.
The reminder makes my face burn hotter in the dark.
I, Valentina Blackwood, called a man daddy.
God, how am I ever going to look him in the eye tomorrow?
Now that the red-hot sex craze has completely emptied out of my system, the embarrassment is killing me.
I have a total of zero kinks. Where did that even come from?
What was I thinking? Maybe I’m not that different from the creepy old men in our circle after all.
The soft click of the penthouse door breaks off my spiral. I immediately close my eyes and force my breathing to slow, desperate to fall asleep. I can't face Viktor right now.
But as the minutes tick by, my skin begins to itch. Despite the embarrassment paralyzing my chest, it’s like I’m a doll on a string. Pulling me up. Pulling me out of bed. I slip out of my room and pad silently down the hallway.
Viktor is sitting on the edge of the couch, his head buried in his hands. His white button-up shirt is undone nearly all the way to his belly button, and his dark hair is in absolute disarray. The poor thing is so exhausted his shoulders are slumping.
A wave of pure tenderness replaces my embarrassment.
I walk closer to sit down on the cushion right beside him.
I reach out a hesitant hand, hovering over his back.
Maybe I can just massage his shoulders a little.
He’s working himself to death for me; it's the least I can do. But a tiny voice in the back of my mind warns me to be careful—I’m terrified the sex demon will return the second I touch him.
"Hey," I say quietly. "You look exhausted."
Viktor keeps his face buried in his palms. I lean in closer, intending to speak again, when I take a sharp breath. My nose wrinkles.
A heavy floral scent is on his skin. I despise floral perfumes, so it sure as hell isn't mine. The tenderness in my chest instantly turns into ice.
"Viktor," I whisper, my right eye twitching.
He slowly drags his hands down his face. His eyes are bloodshot. On the cotton of his open collar is a bright, smudged streak of red lipstick.
My lungs squeeze tight as I see another red mark on his neck, and another messy smudge dragging right up his jaw.
The ice in my veins instantly turns to gasoline.
"Who the fuck touched you?"
My fists knot into the collar of his half-open shirt, tearing the fabric wider as I shove him backward into the cushions.
"Valentina, wait—"
"Who was she?!" I scream as my vision blurs. Despite myself, my fists pound against his arms. "Is this what your 'work' is? Letting other women get their mouths all over you while I’m sitting here losing my mind?!"
I am crashing out completely. I don't care that he’s twice my size, I want to tear his skin off just to get her scent off him. "Did she touch you anywhere else?"
Viktor absorbs the blows of my fists against his chest like he doesn't even feel them. I reach up to try to rub the lipstick off his jaw.
"Enough," he barks.
He yanks my arms down, twisting my body around in the same breath. He pins me flat on my back, his heavy frame hovering directly over mine.
"Let go of me!" I shriek, bucking my hips, completely wild with fury. "Get off me!"
"Valentina!" he roars, slamming both of my wrists over my head. He then grips my jaw to force my face straight up into his. His chest presses down against my bare stomach, trapping me.
"Listen to me," he hisses, his hot breath fanning across my lips. "A drunk woman threw herself at me. But I didn't touch her. I didn't want her."
I didn't touch her.
I didn’t want her.
The words slowly douse the fire that had turned every single one of my organs into an inferno. The blinding red tint in my vision begins to recede. That filthy word is right on the tip of my tongue. Daddy. Daddy. Daddy. I violently bite my lower lip to keep from saying it. I shouldn't.
We are so close that his lips are brushing mine with every heavy breath he takes. His eyes are crazed, darting all over my face to see if the territorial monster inside me is finally appeased.
I am.
He works himself to the bone for me, despite me telling him a million times that I don't want or need him to. He protects me. He comes home to me. He can have beautiful women throwing themselves at his feet, and his skin crawls because he only wants me. So yes, I am appeased. Slightly.
I know he desperately wants to stick to his vow. But looking at the lipstick smudged across his skin, I completely lose the ability to control myself.
With my wrists still pinned above my head, I arch my neck upward, parting my lips over the smudge and sucking hard.
"Valentina," he warns. "Stop."
I slide my mouth down to his neck, ignoring his warning as I suck hickeys into his skin, using my tongue to lick away the remnants of the lipstick stains.
When I finally pull back, panting, I look up at him. The muscles are leaping in his cheek. He angles his hips away from me so I won't feel his hard cock.
"I am a man of my word, arrogant girl," he whispers. "I won't give in until my vow is complete. You will not break me."
I kiss him, cutting him off.
It is our very first real kiss, and it feels like fireworks.
It’s like a pack of pop rocks exploding across my lips.
The heat of it travels lower, directly into my underwear.
Intoxicated by the taste of him, I try to coax his mouth open, parting my lips to slip my tongue inside, desperate to suck on his.
But before I can, Viktor flings himself off me.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck," he growls as he stumbles backward onto the hardwood floor. He paces like a caged tiger.
Daddy, my mind screams. Come back. I want to say it so badly it physically aches, but I slap my hand firmly over my own mouth to stop it.
He stops pacing, looking completely untamed. "You arrogant, prideful girl. You want to see me lose my control so badly? Fine. Look at what you do to me."
His hands drop to his belt, stripping off his trousers and his boxers.
A primal instinct tells me to turn and run.
How is that humanly possible? He is huge.
There is absolutely no way I can satisfy him.
There is no way I can take that. I am twenty-seven years old, and I have had a grand total of three dicks in my life—and absolutely none of them were remotely that big.
He wraps his massive hand around himself, his knuckles turning white as he begins to jerk off right in front of me.
"You want your daddy, Valentina?" he rough-talks, his tone dropping into a filthy purr that makes my head spin. "This is all you get tonight. You won't make me break my vow, but I am going to make sure you know exactly who handles you."
Hearing him call himself daddy completely short-circuits the last of my sanity. Before I can think about my pride or my dignity, I press my pelvis hard against the cushion and start to hump.
Viktor lets out a groan at the sight, his hand moving faster, his veins straining against his forearms.
"Yeah, ride it," he growls, his face contorting with pleasure. "Because that is all daddy is going to give you. No more. Not until I've earned every single inch of you."
His body goes completely rigid, his release hitting the hardwood floor between us. At the sight, I orgasm too, egged on by his manly groans.
What have I unleashed?
I bury my face in the couch, screaming internally at how incredibly stubborn his mind is.
I want him to touch me already. With every single day that passes, my guilt about this whole situation winds down.
It winds down because I’m watching Viktor become completely independent every day, building things for himself.
An empire. He doesn’t need me anymore, so in my mind, the power dynamic is gone. He can touch me.
Why can’t we just end this stupid game? The auction house already took their cut, and the rest of the money is waiting to be sent to Viktor when our contract period officially ends.
But to him, shuffling that money back to me feels like cheating.
It would still feel like charity. His pride just can't handle it.
He needs to look at his hands and know that he earned the right to touch me, dollar by dollar, through his own work.
What Viktor has built in such a short time is truly a marvel.
While I know I had a hand in his higher-than-average paychecks and connections, he still did the heavy lifting on his own.
He works like a horse. Besides, in our circle, everyone has had help—rich families, connections, silver spoons.
But a lot of rich daddy's boys with the exact same opportunities I presented him with couldn't turn it into anything fruitful like he has.
I just wish he'd realize my issue was never about the money; my issue was how dependent on me he was. I was terrified he wouldn't be able to say no to me because of the imbalance between us. But Viktor now is a powerhouse. The doubts and fears I had before are dissipating.
But the roadblock has just moved from my pride to his. Now, he wants to prove to himself that he deserves me.
And as he finally pulls me against his chest to cuddle on the couch, I realize that despite the madness and the mess of it all—nothing has ever felt so right in my life.
Chapter Twenty
Valentina
I despise these ‘charity’ galas.
A headache is forming right behind my eyes.
Everyone in our circle knows exactly what they are: a glorified tax write-off, accompanied by a lavish, multi-million-dollar party to celebrate.
These people don’t care about the poor or the needy.
It makes my stomach turn to watch them pretend to be so deeply involved and saintly.
But it’s a game I’m forced to play.
I run a brush through my freshly curled hair and apply a swipe of dark red lipstick. The dress I chose is a floor-length crimson gown with a slit that cuts high up my thigh.