Chapter Twenty-One
Viktor
Every few minutes, my phone buzzes in the pocket of my pants.
It’s Marcus. I asked him to send me updates.
From the very first photos of her socializing in that ballroom, it felt like fire ants crawled through my arteries.
Every single man in that room had his eyes on her.
They were circling like vultures, watching her in that red dress.
There is a volcano erupting in my veins, threatening to burn away whatever restraint I have left and turn me into a monster.
But the photo that pushes me completely over the edge arrives thirty minutes later.
I stare at the screen, and my vision literally blurs with rage.
Him. Some upper-class bastard has slid next to her on the terrace.
The next photo shows the guy whispering in her ear.
Then another—his hand is resting on the small of her back, handling her like they are old lovers.
And finally, the last picture. The bastard is kissing her knuckles.
I am incinerating. Burning alive from the inside out.
I can’t finish this shift. Handing my radio off to one of the off-duty bouncers, I pull him aside to ask him to cover for me because it’s an emergency. He thankfully agrees.
I hail a cab, throwing a wad of cash at the driver to get me across the city to the gala. The entire ride, I do nothing but stare at the photos on my phone. They look so damn familiar. Who the hell is that man to her? How many times has he touched her like that before I ever entered the picture?
When the cab screeches to a halt near the venue, I don't even wait for my change. I slam the door and step into the shadows near the security line, my eyes scanning like a predator tracking prey.
A minute later, the doors swing open.
Marcus appears first, clearing a path through the paparazzi.
Right behind him is Valentina. She doesn’t see me—too busy laughing with some woman I don’t recognize.
But Marcus spots me instantly, noting the murderous tension dripping off me.
He gives me a wink and hits the key fob, unlocking the SUV parked at the curb.
I slip into the back seat of the vehicle.
The moment I’m inside, I hit the switch to raise the privacy visor between the driver's compartment and the passenger cabin. I know Valentina has a public image to uphold. Nobody on the outside gets to see what our private time looks like. Nobody gets to see how she belongs to me.
Marcus opens the car door for Valentina. She slides into the leather seat, adjusting the train of her crimson gown. Just as she’s shutting the door, her eyes track across the cabin, finally sensing me.
She gasps, startled when she notices me waiting for her in the dark.
"Viktor?" she breathes, her hand flying to her chest. "What are you doing here? Your shift hasn't even ended."
"You expected me to stay on my shift when these photos showed up on my phone?" I hiss, yanking the phone from my pocket and thrusting the screen into her face.
She looks down at the screen, blinking at the images of the terrace. "Viktor, it's not what you think."
"He put his hand on your back, didn't he?" I demand.
She rolls her eyes. "I pulled away."
"He whispered in your ear!" My grip tightens on her hips.
"I pulled away, Viktor!" she retorts.
"He kissed your fucking hand."
"It was nothing. Just a farewell."
"Who the fuck is he to you?" I swear steam is coming out of my ears. Did he touch her more than that? Did she let him into her bed? Did she call him daddy? The thought makes me want to rip him apart.
She reaches up, wrapping her arms around my neck, and pulls me down to meet her mouth. She’s trying to distract me with the intoxicating taste of her lips.
It works for a while. I lose myself in her, my tongue crashing past her teeth. But then I yank my head back, not able to let it go.
"Who is he to you?" I demand again.
"Viktor, please. We should leave the past in the past."
I haul her effortlessly over my thighs. The car sways as Marcus pulls onto the highway, and I focus entirely on her body beneath mine, fighting off the nausea from the moving vehicle and the jealousy in my gut.
Smack.
The sound of my open palm striking the silk over her rear is loud.
"Who. Is. He. To. You?" I growl against the back of her neck.
She gasps, her fingers digging into the fabric of my pants. "We used to sleep together!" she cries out. "It was casual! Years ago, before I ever knew you!"
A feral groan rips from my throat. My mind conjures images of her in his bed, and it pushes me into an uncontrollable rage.
"Casual," I echo. I’m dying. This must be what death feels like.
I don’t even know what I’m doing anymore. I pull down her panties, stripping them completely off her legs. "You don’t want to talk about the past? Then you don’t get to speak at all."
I stuff the lace past her lips. She bites down on her own panties, her hips twitching restlessly against my thighs. I rain another stinging blow down on her skin, right through the high slit of that dress.
"Look at me," I command as I tilt her face up by her chin, forcing her brown eyes to lock onto mine. "Tell me exactly who takes care of you now. Tell me who you belong to. Who your daddy is."
She can't speak through the gag, but the desperate heat in her gaze gives me the exact answer I'm burning for.
"That's right," I whisper. "Daddy's the only one who gets to touch you. And if I ever see another man's mouth on your hand, I'm going to remind you of that a hell of a lot worse than this."
But the jealousy won’t stop.
It just won’t.
I bunch her dress in my fists and lift it all the way up to her waist, exposing her entirely to me.
I spread her ass cheeks so I can see everything, but Valentina shakes her head frantically, trying to struggle.
I don't let her. I just want to stare at her prettiest, most private places until they are burned into the back of my eyelids.
"Why are you struggling, baby?" I mock-soothe. "Are you shy now? After letting him put his hands all over you in front of the whole world?"
One of my fingers rests over her tight asshole, and the other on the opening of her cunt.
The vow.
The vow.
The vow.
I wouldn't take it too far, I wouldn't cross the ultimate line, which is no fucking. But right now, jealousy is poisoning my rational thoughts.
Did that fucker get to touch her like this? Did he look at her like this?
A muffled whine catches in her throat, but my fingers aren't hurting her. I'm just caressing her holes.
"Did he eat you here?" I growl.
She shakes her head, her eyes wide and pleading.
"Good," I hiss, a dark sense of victory washing through my veins. "Daddy will be the only one who ever does."
I press a little deeper into the tight rim of her asshole. "Did he fuck you here?"
I want to kill him, then bury myself inside her. I want to lick her all over, to taste her everywhere until she smells like nothing but me.
She thankfully signals to me that the answer is no.
The vow.
The vow.
"Just wait, baby," I rasp, caressing her clit. "I won't break my vow. I'm going to keep my word. But the second I fulfill my vow... I'm going to fuck you so good you won't even remember anyone else's name. You won't remember anyone but me."
I lean down to press an open-mouthed kiss directly to the burning skin of her ass, and then another right against her pussy.
Valentina shrieks. With a sudden burst of adrenaline, she twists out of my grip, pulling her dress back down to cover herself. I allow it. She reaches into her mouth, yanking the damp lace panties out, and I quickly steal them from her to stuff in the pocket of my pants.
They’re mine now.
She looks completely dazed. Her hair is beautifully messy, her lipstick is smeared across her cheek, and her eyes are glassy.
"Don't look at me like it's over," I warn her. "We're not done."
She opens her mouth to snap back, but she is too thoroughly dazed.
Exactly like a good girl.
My good girl. Not that bastard’s.
Mine. Fucking mine.