15. Victor
VICTOR
Iwalk down the hall toward this little Russian beauty. She's still breathing hard from navigating the laser grid, her chest rising and falling beneath that tight red dress. She runs her fingers along her collarbone, brushing her hair behind her shoulder.
I can't help but stare. As a matter of fact, I feel like that's all I've been doing. I can't seem to take my eyes off her.
I want her because I shouldn't, that much I understand. But it's more than just the thrill of the forbidden.
She's stunning. I knew that from the moment I saw her in Cornel's rundown house and was reminded again in Bogdan's home. But seeing her move through those lasers, it's a different kind of beautiful.
The kind where her skill and expertise make her interesting. She's gorgeous yet ruthless and I want to find out just how far that smart mouth can take her when she's pinned again the bedsheets.
My cock stirs at the thoughts and pushes a desire to absolutely abandon this mission and ruin her in every pleasurable way.
I force myself to focus, however, telling myself that she did stab me after all, but for whatever fucking twisted reason, that's starting to matter to me less and less.
One thing I'll give her, politics taught me how to read people, how to manipulate conversations, how to find leverage in the smallest cracks. But Danika? She operates on a different level. Her tactic is simple: act pinned, act indifferent, then strike when you think you've won.
I should know.
Watching her move through that grid was a test of my control.
Every arch of her back, every twist of her hips, every time the dress pulled tight across her thighs, I had to actively fight not to get hard.
And now, approaching her, breathing in the faint trace of her perfume mixed with sweat and adrenaline, my restraint is wearing dangerously thin.
When I get close, she looks up at me, her blue eyes sharp and assessing.
"What?" she asks.
"Nothing," I say, stopping inches in front of her. "I'm just impressed."
She puts her hands on her hips and tilts her head.
"You didn't doubt me, did you?"
"Oh no," I say, smiling. "Last time I did, you stuck a knife in me."
Her expression softens slightly, and she shifts.
"Yeah, well, I apologize for that," she says. "It was just business."
I nod.
"I know. Apology accepted."
She looks at me for a moment and then turns.
"So what now?"
I glance up at the security panel above the penthouse door. It's mounted high, just out of reach for both of us.
"I need to lift you," I say. "You need to cut the wires in that box."
She follows my gaze and sighs.
"Okay."
"Be a good girl and turn around for me."
She rolls her eyes but complies, turning to face the door and holy shit if my breath didn't catch and how quickly she obeyed me.
"Easy there, tiger," she says over her shoulder.
I step closer, gripping her hips. The fabric of her dress is thin, and I can feel the heat of her skin beneath it. I pull her back against me, her body fitting perfectly against mine.
"When has a tiger ever been easy?" I ask, tightening my grip.
Before she can respond, I lift her effortlessly onto my left shoulder. She gasps, her hands bracing against the wall for balance.
"Victor..."
"Relax," I say, steadying her. "You're fine."
She wiggles her ass on my shoulder, trying to get comfortable, and I grip her thighs tighter to hold her still. The movement presses her against the side of my face. I lick my lips, my jaw tightening as dark, violent thoughts of exactly what I want to do to her flood my mind.
I clear my throat. "Can you reach it?" I ask, my voice still sounding rough.
"Move closer to the door," she says. "And then I’ll be able to."
I step forward slightly.
"Perfect," she says, and she spreads her legs to reach for the ceramic knife strapped to her thigh. I loosen my grip to let her move, and the shift presses her weight more firmly against my shoulder.
"What am I looking at?" she asks, her voice distracted.
I crane my neck to look up.
"Cut the two blue wires," I say. "Just the blue ones."
She leans forward, and I adjust my hold to keep her steady. The dress rides higher on her thighs, and my fingers grip her skin firmly.
"How do you know how to bypass this system?" she asks, slicing through the first wire.
"When I came to check things out this morning, I finally managed to get up here and saw it all," I say, adjusting her on my shoulder. "One contact knows another contact, you know how it goes, and I was able to get the intel on how to bypass this system, and here we are."
She stops moving for a second.
"So you knew you couldn't do this alone and you needed me."
"Yes."
She pauses, glancing down at me.
"To be fair, it wasn't until I realized you were here for a similar reason that I knew it had to be you. It felt like it was meant to be," I admit.
She scoffs, returning to the wires.
"Oh God, you don't believe in that shit, do you?" she asks me.
"Sometimes," I say. "Sometimes things work out too perfectly to be anything else."
"No," she says. "You control all the strings."
She cuts the final wire, and the panel goes dark.
"Done."
I lower her carefully, and she slides down my body, her dress catching against my shirt. The friction is deliberate, slow, and by the time her feet touch the floor, my heart is racing.
She turns into me, and we stand pressed together for a moment. Her hands rest against my chest, and I can feel the rapid beat of her heart, too.
It takes me longer than it should to realize I'm holding her, and I clear my throat and step back.
"Whatever it may be," I say, adjusting my collar, "this is working."
"Yeah," she says and nods, staring at me. "It is."
We both turn and look at the door.
"Now what?" she asks.
So it's at this point I thought the door would open. I try the handle, and it's locked.
"Swipe the card again," I say, and she does.
"Nothing," she says and tries again.
Suddenly, a small panel beside the handle slides up, displaying text in glowing white letters: RETINA ACCESS REQUIRED.
"Blyat," Danika says. "What the hell is that?"
I stare at the panel, my mind racing.
"I don't know," I say. "My intel missed this step."
She whips around, her eyes blazing.
"Are you serious?"
"Yes."
"Did I cut the right wires?" she asks in a stern tone.
"Obviously," I say, smiling. "The panel went dark, didn't it?"
"Well, don't fucking blame this on me," she snaps. "I did what you told me to do."
"I know," I say, my smile widening. "And how did it feel when you did?"
Her jaw tightens.
"Victor. This is serious. We're running out of time."
"I'm aware."
I turn back to the panel, considering our options. The retina scanner looks legit. A high-end biometric security system that can't be hacked. We'd need either a bypass code, which we don't have, or...
I get an idea. A dark, practical idea that makes perfect sense.
"Can I borrow your knife?" I ask.
Danika stares at me.
"Why?"
"I'll give it back," I promise.
She hands it over, her expression wary.
"What are you going to do?"
I start walking back down the hallway.
"I'm going to get something."
"Victor!"
"Don't worry," I say over my shoulder. "Trust me."
I step out into the main hallway where the three dead guards are sprawled on the floor. Blood pools beneath their bodies, and the air is starting to take on that scent of death.
I approach the man who had the keycard and crouch beside him.
"Sorry," I say, positioning the blade beside his eye socket. "I need to borrow this."
I slide the tip of the knife into the corner of his eye, feeling the resistance of muscle and tissue. I twist, applying steady pressure, and the eyeball pops free with a wet, sucking sound. I impale it on the tip of the blade and stand, turning back toward the penthouse.
Danika is standing at the end of the hallway, her arms crossed, watching me.
"Jesus, Victor," she says as I approach. "What the fuck is that?"
I shrug.
"An eyeball."
"What?!"
"Well," I say, pointing at the screen, "my eye won't work. Yours won't," I continue, holding up the blade. "Maybe his will."
She stares at the eyeball, her expression caught between disbelief and disgust.
"You're demented."
"I'm practical, darling," I say and move past her to the scanner.
She shifts aside quickly, shaking her head.
I hold the impaled eyeball up to the scanner, angling it so the lens can read the retina. A green light flashes, and the heavy door clicks unlocked.
"See?" I say, turning to Danika and winking. "Practical."
I push the door open and casually offer the knife back to her, the eyeball still skewered on the tip.
"Something to remember our time together," I say.
Danika grabs the handle and sharply flicks her wrist, sending the eyeball rolling across the floor.
"Wow, Danika. And here I thought you'd cherish it."
"Something is wrong with you," she says, stepping toward the door. "Just get inside before someone comes."
I hold the door open, gesturing for her to move.
"Ladies first."
She walks past me into the penthouse, and I follow, pulling the heavy door shut behind us.