Chapter Twenty-three
Viktor
I lean against the glass, a paper cup of black coffee in my hands. From here, I can see straight into the glass-walled conference room where Valentina is holding one of her many meetings.
Every time one of those bastards across the table leans in a little too close to speak to her, my back turns into stone. I’m ready to pounce whenever she needs me.
"Drink your coffee, man. You're gonna burn a hole through the glass."
Marcus is sitting at the small bistro table, scrolling his tablet.
We sort of built a weird brotherhood. He had a rough life of his own, just like me.
When Valentina first started letting me take the lead on her details, a lot of the older guys talked behind my back.
I had to earn every ounce of respect. But Marcus never looked down on me once.
He respected me from day one, man to man.
"Just keeping eyes on the room," I grumble.
"Right. The room." Marcus taps his fingers against his cup. "Hey. Let me ask you something. You ever think about what's next? Like, five years down the line?"
I furrow my brows. "Not really."
A few weeks ago I would have never expected to live five more years, so I have a hard time even thinking about the future.
"Yeah, well, I’ve been doing some math," Marcus starts. "You and me... we can build something much better than any of these outside agencies Valentina contracts. We're wasted potential if we don’t try. Let's open our own firm."
The paper cup crinkles in my grip. "You trust me that much?"
"I do, Viktor. You’re a hard worker and you've got the instinct for it," Marcus says, completely deadpan. "Partners. Fifty-fifty. But it means going all in."
"We'd need serious money, Marcus," I counter immediately, my brain trying to find the catch. "Licensing, payroll for a starting crew, insurance... that kind of money doesn't just drop out of the sky."
"Funds aren't the issue," Marcus sighs, waving a hand.
"Valentina isn't greedy like the rest of these corporate fuckers.
She actually pays us well. Very well. Between what I've got saved up from the last few years and a line of credit, I can cover the initial overhead.
The rest? We network. We pull clients from the connections we're already building right here. "
A wave of panic hits me right in the chest, rising like hot bile in my throat.
If we start a firm, it means I have to work full-time running a business.
It means I can't be Valentina's primary bodyguard anymore.
No one can keep her safe like I can. She has become my absolute whole purpose.
I can't imagine a life where I’m not standing between her and the rest of the world.
If I'm not her protector, what the hell am I?
"I can't do it," I say flatly. "I can't not guard her."
Marcus rubs the back of his neck. "Look, man, I'm not blind," he says softly, his voice devoid of any judgment. "I know you guys have a thing going on."
I try to lie and say that’s not true, but my mouth refuses to let the words out. I want to protect Valentina from any judgment in her shitty circle, but I also can’t deny that I’m completely hers. It’s a problem.
"I'm not judging, Viktor. I'm glad she's got someone who actually gives a shit about her," Marcus continues easily. "But think about it realistically. You staying as her bodyguard for the rest of your life is going to make things incredibly hard for both of you. It limits you, and it limits her."
He’s right.
Deep in my chest, a spark of terrifying excitement flares up.
Because he’s right. This is exactly what I need.
To be successful enough on my own merit that I wouldn't ruin her image if the press saw me walking by her side. To finally be man enough for her—to be able to pamper her, spoil her, and buy her things, even if she’s fully capable of buying the world for herself.
"You wouldn't be abandoning her, Viktor," Marcus adds. "You’d still be the one designing her protocols. You'd be training the guards who stand at her door. You'd even be the boss of the agency providing her protection. Just... think about it, alright?"
My chest swells. I want to build an empire, dollar by grueling dollar. For myself, but mostly to finally deserve the woman who owns every single piece of my soul.
"Yeah," I murmur. "I'll think about it."
And I do think about it. I want something for myself.
And not only for myself, but for her, too.
I want to build something so undeniable that when we walk into rooms, she doesn't have to hide me away or worry about what the board members will say.
I want her to look at the crowd and proudly tell every single one of those rich bastards that I am her man.
I need to become more. For my own pride, and for her.
Yet, the practical side of my brain tries to poke holes in the dream—the dream that I’d finally be able to become more.
"A firm is a full-time job, Marcus," I mumble. "What if it fails and I've already quit everything by then? I'd have nothing."
Marcus lets out a short scoff, nodding slowly. "You're right. It's a risk. A massive one. But let me ask you this—what if it does work out? If we pull this off, you can make what you earn in an entire month of shifts in just one single deal, Viktor."
"And you're sure you have the funds it takes to open a firm?" I ask.
"Yes," Marcus says without a single hint of hesitation.
"I've got the money to get us off the ground.
For the rest of what we need, we network it.
And you're good at that, Viktor. People trust you because you look like you can kill a man with your bare hands, which is exactly what they want. They'll buy what you're selling."
My mind is racing, thinking, thinking, thinking. Valentina belongs to me in the dark. I need to own the light, too. And for that to happen, I need to take the risk.
I extend my hand across the table.
"Deal," I say.
Marcus grins and grips my hand in a bone-crushing squeeze. "Deal, partner."
I won't let Marcus down, and I sure as hell won't let Valentina down.
But more than anything, I owe it to myself to try.
I owe it to Marcus to be worthy of the responsibility he just placed in my hands, and I owe it to Valentina to become a man who can stand in the light with her.
This is my shot, and I'm going to take it with everything I've got.