Chapter 8
St. Petersburg, two weeks ago…
Mikhail
Morning came too early in St. Petersburg, dragging an iron-gray sky over the river and freezing the air against the windows of my suite. I had been awake for an hour already, reading through mission notes and re-evaluating everything Revenant had dropped into our laps last night.
A volatile group of freedom fighters. A questionable transfer of drones. An operative who was far more idealistic than Revenant deserved.
Her name was Katerina Volkov, and I hadn’t stopped thinking about her since yesterday.
She was sharp-minded, sharp-tongued, and sharp enough, in fact, that I assumed Viktor wouldn’t need more than forty-eight hours before doing something catastrophically stupid.
I overestimated.
A knock sounded on the door. It had no rhythm, no hesitation, just Viktor’s careless brand of confidence. I didn’t bother calling out; he’d let himself in anyway.
He stepped inside wearing yesterday’s shirt, unbuttoned at the throat, hair annoyingly tousled, and a smirk that confirmed my suspicion before he even opened his mouth. A half-smoked cigarette dangled between his fingers, the smell of tobacco and sex drifting in ahead of him.
“Morning, big brother,” he said, stretching like a cat who’d slept soundly. Ash broke loose and drifted to my carpet. “You look stressed.”
“I wonder why,” I said dryly. “Perhaps because I sent you to escort Katerina to her suite, not sleep in it.”
Viktor blinked innocently. “You didn’t specify the details of the escort.”
I set the file in my hand down very, very slowly.
“You slept with her, didn’t you?”
“Technically,” he said, “she slept with me. Twice.”
I exhaled through my nose, long and controlled, because the alternative was throttling him with my bare hands.
“This is a diplomatic assignment,” I said. “A delicate introduction. She’s idealistic. Not someone to make things complicated with.”
“Complicated?” Viktor scoffed. “She’s not complicated. She’s straightforward. Fiery. Practical.” A beat passed. “Bendy.”
I stood. “You cannot be serious.”
He dropped into the chair across from me, totally unbothered. “She’s charming.”
“She’s a mission asset.”
“So am I,” he said. “And you don’t see me complaining.”
I leveled a stare at him. He shrugged.
Then he added, with that lazy grin that made my teeth grind, “Look, big brother. Cool your jets. I’m sure that you can get some later. She seems needy.”
A muscle in my jaw twitched.
Viktor’s smile widened. “Oh. That’s what this is about. You’re annoyed you didn’t get to her first.”
I didn’t respond.
I didn’t have to.
Because he was right.
His grin widened. “Are you pissed because I messed with the mission, or because she’s wrapped around your brain, too?”
“Both,” I said curtly.
That seemed to amuse him more, which irritated me further.
I straightened my coat and moved toward the table. “You jeopardized the mission, Viktor. She barely knows our names. She needs clarity, not to be obsessed with your cock.”
“She got plenty of that,” he said cheerfully. “Once she decided to be a good girl for me.”
“Viktor.”
“What?”
I closed my eyes for one second. One. Second. Then I opened them again.
He leaned back in the chair, hands behind his head, completely shameless. “Relax. I didn’t break her. She’s tougher than you think.”
“That is not the point.”
“She wanted me,” he said simply. “I’m not going to apologize for that.”
I rubbed a hand across my face. “You couldn’t wait even one night?”
“Nope.”
“She is not a toy.”
“I didn’t treat her like one.”
“She isn’t your distraction.”
“She didn’t feel like a distraction.”
“You’re unbearable.”
“And you,” he sniped, “are jealous.”
I stared at him for a long, silent moment.
Viktor stood and clapped me on the shoulder. “Don’t worry, Mikha. You’re the responsible one. She’ll like that. Eventually.”
“I am reconsidering letting you live,” I drawled.
“Thank you,” he replied easily. “I’m adorable.”
I gave him a look that would have made most men lose their appetite.
He just winked as he sat back down.
“Try not to scowl at her like that,” he advised. “She’ll think you don’t like her.”
“This isn’t about that.”
“See?” Viktor grinned. “That’s your problem.”
He lounged in that chair like he owned the entire damn suite, watching me with the kind of lazy amusement that made me furious. He thrived on provoking me. Always had. And today, he’d found my weak spot without even trying.
He tapped the armrest with two fingers. “You’re really going to pretend this isn’t about her?”
“It’s about the mission.” I bit the words out.
He smirked. “Sure. And I’m a priest.”
“You could use a confession,” I muttered.
“That’s not the only thing I could use,” he shot back with an obnoxious wink.
I exhaled slowly, evenly, counting to ten as I did so.
It didn’t help.
“You complicate things,” I said. “We need her focused. Not… distracted by you.”
“She’s not distracted,” Viktor said simply. “She’s stubborn, brilliant, and driven. If anything, she’s more focused this morning than she was last night.”
“Because you exhausted her,” I snapped.
He grinned. “That too.”
I pinched the bridge of my nose. “You’re fucking unbelievable.”
“I’m efficient. And fun. And she liked it, by the way. A lot.”
“Viktor.”
“What? You asked.”
“I did not ask.”
He leaned forward. “You’re acting like she’s yours.”
“She’s not,” I snapped.
“But you want her to be,” he said with irritating accuracy.
My jaw tightened. His eyes lit up because he’d landed a hit and he knew it.
“She’s not for me,” I said.
He shrugged. “She wasn’t for me either, apparently. Didn’t stop her.”
“She’s vulnerable.”
“Not last night, she wasn’t.”
I stared him down. “I swear to God, Viktor.”
He just laughed, not fazed in the slightest, like the threat of fratricide was nothing more than breakfast conversation.
“Relax,” he said, finally standing. “I didn’t screw up the mission. I didn’t break her. She’s tougher than both of us combined. And she’s not stupid. She’s not going to fall in love with me.”
“That is not the concern.” I was really trying to stay calm.
He cocked his head. “Then what is?”
I pressed my lips together.
He waited.
“I don’t want her compromised,” I said at last. “She’s idealistic. Loyal to the wrong people for the right reasons. If she gets attached—”
“To me?” he cut in.
“To anyone,” I corrected. “Including me. And you.”
He paused, genuinely thinking for once.
Then he shrugged again. “She knows what she’s doing.”
“No,” I said softly. “She doesn’t.”
He sobered slightly, and for a moment—just one—his expression matched mine. Concern. Calculation. A hint of protective possessiveness.
Then he ruined it.
“If you’re so interested,” he said, “stop sulking and make a move. You’re not that old, big brother.”
I stared at him.
He grinned and walked toward the door. “Anyway, I’m starving. Call me if you need me to teach you how to flirt, Mikha.”
“Get out,” I snarled.
He winked and left.
The door clicked shut behind him.
The moment the door closed behind Viktor, the room felt too large and too quiet, the way hotel suites always do after someone loud exits and leaves the air unsettled.
I walked over and lowered myself into the chair by the window, elbows braced on my knees, and let the irritation smolder through my chest like a coal that refused to go cold.
I told myself I was angry because he’d jeopardized a lucrative business deal.
Because he’d blurred lines that should have remained absolutely clear.
But the truth crawled under my skin with far more persistence than I liked; he’d touched something that had caught my interest too.
Katerina Volkov.
That girl had eyes too green for her own good, bright with ideals she hadn’t yet had beaten out of her.
It was intoxicating watching someone still young enough to believe change was possible, but old enough to understand violence was the only language some regimes spoke.
She carried herself like she was already halfway through a revolution, shoulders squared, spine straight, jaw set as if daring anyone to knock her off her path.
She was beautiful, yes—any man with working retinas could see that—but there was more to it.
I didn’t want to possess her, but there was a part of me that responded to people who still had softness left.
It had been a long time since I’d taken care of anyone.
Longer since I’d wanted to. She awoke that instinct like it had been lying dormant under layers of discipline and frost, and I didn’t know what to do with that.
And Viktor had gotten to her first.
Of course he had. Reckless, charming idiot that he was.
He gravitated toward heat like a moth, and she burned bright enough to draw anything with a pulse.
She probably fell into his bed without understanding the consequences; he probably fell into hers without thinking about them.
Now here I was, sitting in a chair growing angrier by the second because the girl I should have approached with caution, with intention, with respect…
had Viktor’s fingerprints on her skin instead of mine.
I rubbed my temples, trying to shove that thought aside long enough to focus on what I needed to do today. It didn’t help. Because the next thought that slid into place was even more irritating.
Katya was clever. Too clever. And she’d been close to Viktor in very… compromising circumstances. If she’d wanted to tag him, she had the perfect opportunity. It wouldn’t surprise me if she’d slipped a tracker under his skin while he was too occupied wetting his dick to notice.
The image made me groan under my breath.
Should I do something about it?
Check him?
Warn him?
No. That was ridiculous.
The idea of pinning Viktor down and hunting for tracking hardware was not appealing. He’d whine. He’d be overly dramatic. He’d probably accuse me of jealousy again, and I didn’t have the patience for his bullshit.