Chapter 7
VIKTOR
Idon’t leave her to stew in her anger very long.
I watch on the camera as she rolls up one of her pantlegs and I see the blood forming on one of her knees.
I almost feel bad about it, but then again, she did try to escape.
A scraped knee is less than any of my men would get for such insubordination.
I sigh and head to the downstairs bathroom where I have a first aid kit stashed. She isn’t going to like it, but she has no other choice but to accept my help. I climb the stairs and hesitate for just a moment before filling the space in her doorway.
“That looks nasty,” I say from the hallway.
She glares up at me, her face stormy. “Some asshole tackled me to the ground,” she spits back.
I hold up the first aid kit like I’m waving a white flag. It isn’t surrender, exactly, but it is something of a peace offering. I really didn’t mean to hurt her.
“I can handle it myself,” she snaps, holding her hand out for the kit.
I could just give in to her demand, but that isn’t how things work around here. She needs to understand that she isn’t the one in charge and she never will be.
“That’s okay,” I say, entering her room without asking. “I’ll take care of it.”
She glares even harder, shooting daggers that I’m sure she wishes were literal. She hates me, and that’s fine. It’s safer for both of us that way.
“Let me look at it,” I say, sitting on the bed to her as close as I dare.
Very reluctantly, she angles her body toward mine, though she still maintains as much distance as she possibly can.
He knee is pretty cut up. There are tiny little scrapes all over the surface, and the skin is an angry red where it isn’t broken.
It isn’t bleeding profusely, but there are droplets pooling at the wounds.
I pull out a packet of gauze and gently press it against her knee, making sure the bleeding is stopped completely before I try to clean it.
She says nothing and barely reacts. I don’t know if that’s a high tolerance of pain or her incessant need to prove her strength.
Either way, she continues to glare at me while I take care of her injury.
Once I’m satisfied that the wound has properly clotted, I pull out an antiseptic pad and start gingerly cleaning around the edges. She hisses very lowly, probably hoping that I don’t notice. I do, of course. I notice everything about her.
For instance, I notice the rich shade of her brown hair, and how it seems to absorb light rather than reflect it. I notice that her eyes are an almond shape and the color is just as dark and rich as her hair.
She’s petite and curvy in all the right places, but she isn’t weak.
Up close, I’m more aware of just how taut her muscles are.
I’ve seen the evidence of her fighting, but seeing the way her feminine muscles ripple under her skin, I understand just how much she’s trained in her life.
She was never going to be a damsel in distress if she could help it.
I grab a tube of ointment and cautiously rub it into her skin.
This close to her, I feel like my body is on fire.
The touch is completely innocent, but I don’t want it to be.
Somewhere in the back of my mind, I come to terms with a dangerous truth.
I want to ravage her. I want to feel every strain of her strong muscles and watch as she completely surrenders herself to the pleasure only I can bring her.
“I think that’s enough,” she says coolly, bringing me out of my thoughts.
I realize I’m still rubbing the ointment on her skin and nod, pulling out a Band Aid.
“What else?” I ask, staring at her.
She watches me with hesitation, not willing to budge. “That’s all,” she lies.
I know it’s a lie, because I see the scrape on her elbow as well. I grab her arm tentatively and hold it out, as if I’m presenting evidence to a jury of my peers.
“Don’t lie to me, Anya,” I warn. “Not about this or about anything else. I don’t take kindly to liars.”
“And I don’t take kindly to kidnappers,” she shoots back. “Or murderers for that matter.”
“You can levy every crime I’ve ever committed against me, Anya,” I tell her. “It won’t make any difference. I am who I am and I’ve come to terms with myself. It might be easier for you if you come to terms with your situation and accept it.”
“I’m never going to accept this,” she says, yanking her elbow out of my grasp.
She holds her arms to her chest and I can see the faint lines on her wrists where she was bound the other night. I reach for her hand, and then take it when she doesn’t offer it. I examine her wrists, taking in the angry red welts that encircle them.
“Do these hurt?” I ask.
“No,” she lies again.
She has a very simple tell when she lies. Her voice goes up ever so slightly. A man who isn’t an expert in reading people may not notice, but it’s so obvious to me.
“So, what exactly was the escape plan? Where did you think you’d go?”
I rub the ointment delicately on the angry welts and she sighs heavily.
“There was no plan.”
Lie.
I hold her wrist just a little tighter than necessary, forcing her to look up at me.
“You’re a terrible liar,” I tell her.
She glares at me.
“You’re a terrible person,” she quips back. “And a terrible host. Who could blame me for wanting to get the hell away from here?”
“Are the accommodations not to your satisfaction?” I ask, smirking.
“In general, I don’t appreciate being held against my will anywhere,” she seethes, yanking her hand roughly out of mine. She tries to cover up her wince as she holds her injured wrist, but I see it. She would hate to know that I saw.
“Would you run back to Mikhail?” I ask. “His plans for you are no better than a prison sentence, I imagine.”
She looks up at me in surprise, her anger still on the surface.
“I wasn’t going back to him,” she snaps.
Finally, some truth. At least, she believes it’s the truth. What she doesn’t know is that there’s no way for her to reappear anywhere in Brooklyn without Mikail’s men descending on her. This is the safest place for her now.
“So, you would have disappeared?” I ask curiously. “Escaped into the abyss without anyone noticing?”
I don’t mean to sound mocking, but it’s amazing that she could be caught up in such a delusion. She knows this world as well as I do. There’s no escape.
“I had options,” she answers vaguely.
“You had fantasies,” I correct.
Her eyes flare at this, but we both know I’m right. I set the antiseptic down and lean back slightly on the bed, giving her some space. She keeps her arms crossed, guarding the scrape on her elbow like I’m going to somehow make it worse.
“Anya, I’m not your enemy,” I say as gently as I can. “Even if it feels that way, I’m not going to hurt you.”
“Then let me go,” she hisses back, her eyes dark and narrowed at me. “You have no reason to keep me here other than a misplaced sense of pride. If I’m in danger from Mikhail, so are you. You let me go, that danger goes away. It seems like a win for both of us.”
“It’s not,” I huff, shaking my head. “You’re being na?ve. You think Mikhail isn’t going to tear the city apart looking for you? You think you’re getting out of this state—hell, out of this city—without him dragging you right back to his compound? Grow up.”
She stands then, shaking.
“Get out of my room,” she demands, her voice cracks. “And don’t you ever speak that way to me again.”
“Someone needs to,” I say patiently, staying in my spot. “You’ve grown up in a castle, so you’ve only seen the world a certain way. Your father, Mikhail, and I work in the shadows. There’s no mercy. There’s no forgiveness. There are no happy endings.”
“I’m not a fucking princess!” she shouts. “I’m not as na?ve as you think, Viktor. And I’m not some damsel who needs to be rescued. I can take care of myself.”
“And how was that going for you?” I ask, standing up now and purposely stepping into her space. “Because it seemed like you weren’t handling the situation very well when I found you the other night.”
She deflates a little at this, but her eyes don’t lose their spark. She’s pissed, and she isn’t going to back down.
“I’m not your problem,” she deflects. “But you’ve become mine. Let me go now, or this is going to be so much worse for you.”
“What are you going to do?” I challenge, leaning closer.
At this distance, I can see the flecks of gold in her brown eyes. I can count the faint freckles on her nose. I’m completely aware of the way her chest rises and falls with every breath. It throws me off balance.
“What I do or don’t do isn’t your concern,” she nearly spits at me, leaning forward herself to get in my face as she pushes her finger into my chest. “You need to end this now, or you’re going to be just as deep in hell as I’ve been for the last three months.”
It’s meant to be a threat, but she’s also revealed a deep, unconscious truth. She’s just as unsettled as I am, but probably for a different reason.
I take a step back, needing the space to clear my head. If I stay in her orbit for much longer, I’m going to do something I’ll regret. I turn back to the bed, pick up the first aid kit, and shove it into her hands.
“In case you need any more mending,” I tell her, before I turn on my heel and leave the room.
She’ll probably thinks she’s won this encounter, and that’s fine. She can believe whatever she wants, because I can’t let her know the truth.
I want her.
That wasn’t the plan. I can see this all spinning out of control very quickly if I give in to that urge. As much as I’m flying by the seat of my pants, I can’t throw in the added complication of succumbing to those desires.
I’ve already opened myself up to Mikhail’s wrath just by taking her. If I let myself have her, I’m crossing a line that there’s no coming back from. Mikhail won’t just start a war; he’ll trigger an annihilation. Everything I’ve ever worked to build will come crashing down around me.
The farther I get from her, the more I’m able to breathe, and the more I can tell myself that wanting her isn’t an option. It’s a death sentence.