Chapter 19
Chapter Nineteen
Hailey & Viktor
Hailey
"So that escort, I mean, Mr. Ivanov, was actually sweet enough to secretly buy you a puppy?"
Samantha's voice blasted through the phone, her ancient coffee maker grinding like a damn jet engine in the background.
"Yeah." I sat cross-legged on that absurdly soft rug, watching the little golden fuzzball wage a death match with my slipper.
I couldn't help laughing. "Viktor bought him.
On our date, I stopped at a corner and played with a golden retriever.
I looked at it for, like, two extra seconds, and he just...
remembered. The next day he had someone deliver one that looked exactly the same. "
Silence on the other end for two beats.
Then she screamed like she was trying to take the roof off.
"Hailey Woods!!" I had to yank the phone away from my ear.
"Do you even hear yourself? That man—the man the Wall Street Journal called a 'tyrant,' the one people said hadn't had a woman on his arm in thirty years—saw you look at a dog twice and then secretly bought you a matching puppy and dropped him at your feet? "
I glanced toward the kitchen, guilty as hell. Viktor stood at the open counter, washing dishes. His sleeves had been rolled up, forearms strong, movements easy like he belonged there.
"It sounds kind of insane when you put it like that." I tore my eyes away and rubbed Buddy's ears.
"This isn't about insane." She practically vibrated through the line.
"This is romantic, babe. Listen—men buy you a purse, a dress, a condo, whatever.
That's just them flexing. But a man who catches some tiny little thing you want, then quietly makes it happen?
That's the dangerous kind. I can't believe Mr. Big Bad Ivanov actually put in effort for you.
You're screwed, Hailey. Completely screwed. "
Heat crept up my face. I looked down at the little guy in my lap, snuffling and nudging my palm with his wet nose, and that sweetness in my chest wouldn't stay contained.
"And?" Samantha lowered her voice, slipping into her favorite mode—full-on gossip interrogation. "What else did you two do these last couple days? Spill. All of it."
I hesitated, then caved. I dumped everything on her—how he cooked eggs in my pathetic kitchen, how he rolled up his sleeves and helped me move until he was sweaty, how he stayed and set up the empty new apartment with me piece by piece until it actually felt like a home.
While I talked, I didn't even notice how bright my voice sounded.
"Stop." Samantha cut in hard.
"What?"
"Hailey, listen to yourself." Her tone had that familiar, dead-on certainty, like she could see straight through me. "Eggs. Moving. Decorating together. Getting a dog. You know what that's called?"
"What?"
"It's called living, you idiot." She hit every word like a gavel. "That's not dating. That's cohabiting. That's a goddamn marriage rehearsal. He's serious about you."
My heart skipped so hard it hurt.
"Don't be ridiculous," I shot back on instinct, but my voice went thin. "We just... we just started."
"Just started? Hailey, you two skipped every 'just started' step and parachuted straight into old married couple.
" She sighed, annoyed in that way that meant she cared.
"Listen to me. You can't just sit there and wait.
Men—especially Viktor, especially the control-freak alpha type—if you stay passive, he'll start thinking you're just playing along. You have to move first."
"Move first?" My pulse picked up. "Move first how?"
"Confess." She said it like it was obvious. "Tell him you like him. Strike while it's hot. Let him know you're in this too. You are, aren't you?"
"I'm scared." I shoved my face into Buddy's fur and mumbled. "What if... he's just screwing around? What if I say it and scare him off?"
"If he's just screwing around, he has a thousand ways to knock you out with money." Samantha's voice went sharp, absolute. "But he picked the one thing that costs him the most—time. And you know it. Men in his world value time more than cash."
She didn't let up. "Hailey, Matthew messed you up so bad you stopped trusting anyone. But you can't live your whole life flinching because you got bitten once. You really want to miss a man who actually loves you?"
I went quiet.
Somewhere along the call, the puppy had fallen asleep. His little body rose and fell, warm against my arm.
Samantha's words sank into me like a stone dropped into still water, ripples spreading wider and wider.
Confess.
I'd never imagined I would say those three words to a man first. Not a man like Viktor—too high up, too dangerous, too unreadable. Even then I still didn't know what I was to him.
But...
I remembered him at my stove, cracking eggs like it was nothing. I remembered sweat on his back as he hauled boxes. I remembered how he clearly hated dogs—yet still carried one home for me anyway.
Something inside me that had stayed locked for years had started to pry open, inch by inch, under his hands.
"I'll think about it," I finally said, small.
"Don't think. Say it tonight!" Samantha sounded like she was pacing. "And you'd better live-stream it to me—"
"Okay, okay. I'm hanging up." I laughed and cut her off mid-machine-gun.
"Who were you on the phone with?"
A low, rough voice came from above me.
I startled and jerked my head up. Viktor had finished the dishes at some point, dried his hands, and slipped in behind me. He didn't take the armchair. He stepped over the rug, bent those long legs, and sat down on the carpet right behind me.
"It was Samantha." I tossed my phone aside like it was hot, suddenly unable to meet his eyes. "She... asked how my weekend was."
"Yeah?" He gave a noncommittal huff.
Then he wrapped his arms around me from behind like it was the most natural thing in the world, pulling me back into the solid heat of his chest. He shifted until I rested comfortably against him.
His scent hit me—cedar cologne tangled with a faint lemon dish-soap clean.
My body went stiff for a second, then melted anyway, helpless.
His hands didn't roam like they usually did. Instead he lifted one, slid his fingers into my loose hair, and started to comb through it slowly, smoothing out knots with patient strokes.
Every so often his fingertips brushed my scalp—gentle, indulgent. It carried no sex at all, and somehow that made it worse. It made it easy to fall.
Butterflies beat against my ribs.
After my parents divorced, they both built new families. I'd been the extra piece, the outsider—unwanted in either home.
How long had it been since I'd felt like I belonged somewhere?
Samantha had been right. I didn't want to run anymore.
"Viktor." I drew a breath, trying to keep my voice from shaking.
"Yeah?" His fingers kept moving through my hair. His chin rested lazily on the top of my head.
"We should watch a movie." I swallowed, choosing the softest path into what I really wanted to say. "On the big projector in the living room."
"What do you want to watch?" He stopped and pulled me in tighter.
"The Notebook." The title popped out before I could overthink it. My fingers pinched the rug fringe like I could anchor myself there. "I heard it's rated really high. I want to watch it with you."
It was the bluntest hint I could manage.
At the name, Viktor paused—just a fraction. He tipped his head down, and his blue eyes held mine in the half-light, knowing and sharp.
He'd caught what I was trying to do. A slow curve tugged at his mouth.
He lifted a brow, voice rough as sin. "A romance movie? Didn't peg you for a hopeless romantic, princess. Fine. Whatever you want."
He grabbed the remote and turned it on.
The lights dimmed automatically. The huge screen lowered with a soft mechanical hush. The opening music poured through the surround sound.
I curled up in Viktor's arms. Buddy lay by our feet, snoring. The moment felt so perfect it didn't seem real.
On-screen, the couple fought in the rain, then crashed together in a desperate kiss. In my head, I kept drafting and redrafting my lines, planning to turn to Viktor at the climax and finally—finally—say it.
But...
The last two days had wrecked me—moving, setting up, and last night... My eyelids got heavier no matter how hard I fought it. Viktor's scent—cedar and leather—made me feel safe in a way I didn't know how to explain. His heartbeat stayed steady, heavy, like a lullaby.
I told myself I'd close my eyes for just a second. Just a second.
When that line came, I would... I would—
I never said anything.
In that warm, shifting glow, wrapped in the hard safety of his arms, I let every last bit of my guard drop and fell asleep—deep, defenseless.
Viktor
She fell asleep.
Halfway through the movie, I looked down and felt her breathing go light and even. She lay against my chest, lashes throwing a small shadow on her cheeks, lips parted, completely unguarded—like she'd handed herself over without even realizing it.
The puppy had passed out on her legs too. One woman, one dog—both sprawled like they owned the place.
I didn't move.
I should've carried her to bed. Or at least shifted her away from my throat.
My throat.
One of the most lethal, most vulnerable places on a human body.
In the Bratva world, letting anyone have that angle on you was the same as placing a knife in Death's hand.
Even Yuri—even the men who'd bled beside me for years—if they got too close behind me, alarms went off in my body instantly.
A decade-plus of living on a blade had carved vigilance into bone. I never truly slept, not anywhere I didn't control.
But now this woman had put all her weight on me. Her breath brushed my neck again and again.
And I didn't feel disgust. I didn't feel danger.
My muscles didn't even tighten. If anything, her trust fed something twisted inside me—something almost sick with satisfaction.
It was ridiculous.