Chapter 10 #2
If he'd known me from the start, why pretend to be an escort?
Why send texts that made my skin burn? Why lure me into his company with double pay?
And in that meeting—he touched me on purpose, right in front of everyone, just to watch me fall apart.
Was that it? Some sick little thrill for a top predator?
Drop a scared mouse into a maze, watch her spin, then laugh from above?
"What are you thinking, Hailey? What the hell are you thinking..." I whispered to the mirror. My heart still slammed in my chest. None of it felt real. It all felt like an insane dream I couldn't wake from, too much to process.
Click.
A sharp lock sound cracked through the quiet restroom.
My whole body went rigid. I jerked my head up.
In the mirror, a tall shadow had appeared behind me.
Viktor.
He'd walked straight into the women's restroom. He'd locked the heavy wooden door and turned. Those deep, icy blue eyes stared at me through the reflection, dead on.
In that cramped space, his heat and that cedar scent filled every corner. Even the air felt thick.
"Are you out of your damn mind? This is the women's restroom!" I spun around, pressing my back to the cold marble counter, voice shaking.
"The whole building belongs to me." He advanced, long legs eating the distance in two steps. "Do I really need to read the sign on the door?"
He caged me in, palms planted on the counter on either side of my body, trapping me between him and stone.
"Why didn't you answer me?" His voice dropped rough and low.
His gaze slid from my frightened eyes down to my chest, still rising and falling too fast. "Last night—nothing.
This morning—nothing. In the meeting, you couldn't even look at me.
Princess... what is that? Use me, then pretend I don't exist? "
"Don't call me that." I didn't know where the nerve came from, but I shoved at his chest.
He didn't move. Not an inch. It felt like pushing a wall.
"Then what should I call you?" He let out a soft laugh, dangerous as a blade. "The little liar I've spent three weeks pulling into my territory?"
"You're the liar." The resentment, anger, and humiliation exploded at once.
I glared up at him, eyes red. "You've known who I was the whole time.
You watched me complain like an idiot. You hired me just to watch me screw up, didn't you?
Is that fun, Mr. Ivanov? Messing with a normal person, watching her panic—is that your big powerful hobby? "
Viktor's eyes went dark.
He didn't answer. He grabbed my chin and kissed me—hard, claiming, impossible to fight.
"Mmph—"
Every protest died in his mouth. The kiss was rougher than the hotel night, more ruthless. He kissed like he meant to break me apart and swallow what was left, his tongue forcing past my teeth with punishment and possession, taking over my mouth like it was his.
The tight space. Bodies pressed together. I felt his heartbeat in his chest, and the blunt, burning heat against me through his suit pants—no shame, no restraint.
My hands that had been swinging to shove him away lost strength without me noticing. I ended up clutching his shirtfront, weak. My brain emptied again, my angry questions burned to ash under the sensory overload.
His hand slid down my waist, gripping my upper thigh hard through fabric, then moving up—those callused fingers testing the edge of my skirt.
Something hard pressed into me, dangerous, ready to snap.
Heels clicked outside, followed by a knock on the restroom door.
It was like ice water dumped over my head. I jolted and shoved at Viktor's shoulder.
"Don't—don't make a sound..." I clapped a hand over my mouth, breathing shredded, eyes wide, locked on the door.
Viktor looked pissed. His brows pulled tight, a flash of violence in his eyes.
We held there for a full minute. Then the woman outside muttered and walked away, her heels fading down the hall.
My legs went boneless. I slid a little against the counter and sucked air.
I used the moment to put distance between us, backing to the other wall, chest heaving. I wiped my burning lips with the back of my hand and forced myself to find whatever scraps of sanity I had left.
"Now," Viktor asked, stepping back half a pace and straightening the collar I'd wrinkled, "are you calm?"
I dragged in a breath. "You still haven't answered me. Have you been playing with me from the start?"
His face hardened.
"Playing?" He gave a short, ugly laugh.
Then he grabbed my wrist and yanked me out of the restroom. The hallway was empty. He hauled me to the door of a vacant executive office next to it, shoved it open, and locked it behind us.
He drove me back step by step until my lower back hit the edge of a wide mahogany desk.
"Listen, Hailey." He braced both hands on the desk, boxing me in.
His face came close, pressure rolling off him.
His voice stayed low, controlled, dominant.
"If I only want to play with you, I have a thousand ways to make you cry and beg for me in bed.
I wouldn't have gone through the trouble of dragging you into the best financial tower in Manhattan. "
I stared at him, stunned.
"These past three days—what do you think you've been doing?
Busywork?" His gaze sharpened like a hawk's, cutting straight into me.
"The XM acquisition is the core project for the second half of the year.
Carol is an idiot. She handed you the hardest piece because she wanted you gone.
But you didn't just handle it. Your model was cleaner than the work my senior analysts did—and they make seven figures. "
My heart clenched.
"You have real talent with finance, Hailey." His thumb brushed over my swollen lip, casual, proprietary. His certainty made it worse—made it impossible to breathe. "You think I hired you because you're my woman? You have value."
My breath caught.
For four years I'd heard plenty of opinions about me. Matthew had said I wasn't "presentable," that I should "stick to support work." My parents—hell, they didn't even bother having an opinion. In their world, I didn't exist.
I'd gotten used to being talked down to. Overlooked. Treated like dead weight.
And now this man—this one at the top, the one who made a room full of executives shake—looked me in the eye and told me, like it was fact:
I was gifted. I'd done well.
The words hit a corner inside me that had been crushed for too long.
Something in the armor I'd worn all day cracked, without warning.
I looked into his eyes and couldn't find a single thing to throw back at him.
And he saw it. Every bit of it.
He straightened and stepped back, looking down at me. Then, slow and deliberate, he reached into the inside pocket of his suit jacket and pulled something out.
Two crumpled one-hundred-dollar bills.
My blood rushed to my face.
Those were... those were the two hundred I'd left on the nightstand that morning.
He pinched them between his fingers and gave them a little wave, his mouth curving into that familiar, dangerous smile.
"Funny thing," he said, voice lazy, openly amused. "Nobody has ever put a price tag on me before."
My face burned hotter than it had in that meeting. This was a public execution, just in private.
"That—those are..." I stammered, feeling like my skin might ignite. "I thought you were... I didn't know... I'm sorry. I thought—"
"Thought I was an escort?" He lifted a brow. "Guess I did a good enough job to be worth two hundred dollars."
"I... I'm sorry." I dropped my head, wanting to crawl into the wall. "Really. It was a mistake. I can make it up to you—"
"Make it up to me? Good." Viktor looked like he'd been waiting for those exact words.
He chuckled, quiet, satisfied. Then he hit the internal intercom on the desk.
"Yuri."
"Yes, Pakhan."
"Tell HR Hailey Woods is being transferred to the President's Office immediately." Viktor stared at me, dangerous sparks in his eyes. "The private office next to mine. I want her badge updated in five minutes."
"Yes."
My eyes flew open. "What are you doing?"
Viktor cut the line. He leaned in again, hands on the desk, his nose almost brushing my cheek. In those deep blue eyes, desire churned—dirty, obvious, the kind that made my knees threaten to fold.
"I'm going to keep a close eye on you."
He didn't leave room for no. He dipped closer, shameless and blatant, flirting right in my face. His breath warmed my ear as he spoke like a whisper.
"Work hard, Hailey," he murmured, that lethal foreign edge in his voice. "And think real hard about how you're going to make it up to me."
My face went red all the way down my throat.
I couldn't take it.
I snatched my bag, shoved through the narrow gap between him and the door, and ran—tripping over myself, fleeing like a coward.
Behind me, I swear I heard his soft, certain laugh.