19. Victor
VICTOR
Darkness wraps around us, broken only by the faint glow coming in from the living room doorway. I can't tell if it's been ten minutes or two hours since I heard her final, breathless moans as she shattered beneath me, her body arching, her nails digging into my back.
We also haven't spoken since. Instead, we're just lying here in the aftermath, her blonde hair spilling across my arm, her breath warm against my chest.
I should be strategizing. Planning my next move. Calculating how to extract the intel from that ring and disappear before Dimitri's men find us. But all I can do is stare at the ceiling, my fingers tracing random circles on her bare shoulder, wondering what the fuck I just did.
I slept with a woman who works for my enemy. A woman who literally stabbed me. A woman whose entire purpose in this operation was to outmaneuver me.
I rub my forehead, the thoughts almost unbearable.
This is the most reckless thing I've ever done, and I've orchestrated coups, bribed senators, and laundered hundreds of millions through offshore accounts without breaking a sweat.
If Lucian found out, he'd strip me of my position. If Adrian knew, he'd probably laugh his ass off before reminding me I'm supposed to be the smart one. And Matei? I stop considering it.
And yet, looking down at her, at her delicate figure and the way she curves perfectly into my body, I realize I don't care.
In some ways, from the moment I first saw her, this was the only outcome. I don't think I ever truly wanted to kill her. I wanted this. I just didn't know it yet.
That damn red dress was my downfall.
And when she looks at me, she makes me feel like...
"Hey, you awake?" she asks, her soft voice pulling me from my thoughts.
I shift slightly, my hand trailing down her side, enjoying the warmth of her skin beneath my palm.
"Yeah. Didn't know you were," I say quietly.
She turns her head, those blue eyes meeting mine in the darkness. For a moment, neither of us speaks. Then she props herself up on one elbow, the sheet slipping down.
"Can you answer one question for me?"
I nod, brushing a stray lock of blonde hair behind her ear. "Depends what it is."
"Why are you even going after the Volkovs anyway?" she asks, her tone genuinely curious rather than accusatory. "Back in Constan?a, you said, 'For my family.'"
I sigh. The question is loaded, but lying to her now, in this moment, feels wrong somehow.
"Your leader," I say, keeping my voice low, "was involved in something that devastated my family."
Her brow furrows. "What are you talking about?"
I sit up slightly, leaning back against the headboard. "They took a girl they shouldn't have. Money they shouldn't have. Actually, they've taken a lot of girls they shouldn't have."
She looks at me with sharp eyes. "Like trafficking?"
"Yes. And while the deal I'm most interested in was started by my father, the Volkovs were active participants. That's why I'm here and why I want him dead."
Danika's eyes widen, and for the first time since I met her, she looks genuinely shocked. She shakes her head slowly, her lips parting.
"What? No. They don't traffic women. I would know. That's a line they wouldn't cross."
"Would you know?" I ask softly, my thumb tracing her collarbone. "You told me earlier you just get told what to do, not why."
"This is different." Her voice hardens with conviction. "He wouldn't allow it."
"Well, Bogdan had tons of pictures in his desk. Did you see them? Those women bound and terrified."
"I saw them," she says quickly, her voice dropping. "But I don't know who he was or what he's a part of, and that doesn't mean..."
"Doesn't mean what?" I ask, keeping my tone gentle. "That the Volkovs are capable of it? Danika, you don't get to where they are in life by being saints."
Her jaw clenches. I can see the war playing out behind her eyes. She wants to defend them, to believe they're above this, but the doubt is creeping in.
"Do you think I'm lying?" I ask.
"No," she says after a long pause. "But what if you're mistaken?"
"I'm not. We have records. Proof. It's what got Maxim killed."
Her expression falters, the cracks in her armor showing. She rubs her face, exhaling sharply. "I didn't know it was because of that."
"There's a lot you don't know. Which means there's a lot I don't know." I shift closer, my thigh brushing hers. "So tell me, who exactly holds your allegiance? Who sent you after that tablet?"
She drops her hands, looking at me. "I was tasked with getting the intel because I think the family feels he's going rogue or something. I don't know."
"Who thinks that?"
"His brother."
"His brother?" I repeat, processing this. I didn't know Dimitri had a brother, let alone one pulling strings behind the scenes. Why would his own brother accuse the leader of the Bratva of going rogue, though? Self-interest, maybe? Trying to edge him out to take over?
"Yeah, Ivan," she says, her voice softening. "If it wasn't for him, I'd be dead on the streets of Moscow."
The vulnerability in her eyes shifts the entire energy of the room. The mafia politics fade into the background, replaced by the raw truth of the woman sitting beside me.
"Dead on the streets? What happened to you?" I ask soft enough that she'll continue to open up to me.
She looks away, staring at the wall. "My parents were murdered when I was young. Collateral damage in a Bratva dispute. Ivan took me in. He saved me from being hunted down next. He fed me, housed me, and trained me."
She looks back at me, her blue eyes filled with mixed emotions. "He made me a weapon. It's all I've ever known how to be. A cleaner. A ghost who fixes other people's mistakes."
My chest tightens. I reach out, my fingers wrapping gently around her wrist, pulling her slightly closer. "I know exactly what that feels like."
She tilts her head. "Don't mess with me."
"I'm serious. My father, Nicolae," I say, the name stirring up a bit of anger in me. "He didn't care who my brothers and I were as men. He only cared about what we could do for his empire. We were tools to him. Instruments meant to be pointed and fired to keep his paranoia at bay."
"Is that why you became a politician?" she asks softly.
"Exactly," I say, my hand sliding up her arm. "I refused to be just a weapon. I wanted to control my own board. Make my own name. I built my political career so I could protect my brothers, my circle, on my own terms."
Danika leans into my touch, her eyes searching mine.
"Must be nice. I'm tired of being the weapon, Victor," she says, a confession that feels heavier than anything else she's said tonight.
"I always think maybe after this job or that job, I'll disappear, but I can't. What would I do?
Be alone with nothing but time on my hands? "
The admission strikes a chord deep inside me. I've felt that way before, too. Before I leaned on my political endeavors.
Shit, not only is she lethal, brilliant, and terrifying, but underneath all of it, she just wants to be free.
I stroke my thumb across her cheek. "Don't disappear on me, Danika," I say, my voice dropping.
The tension from everything has completely changed, leaving only the charged pull between us.
I want to push to find out more about Dimitri's brother, Ivan, but it doesn't feel right now. Plus, we'll have the morning to discuss things.
I shift my weight, bringing my face inches from hers.
"Let's talk about something else," I say, letting my gaze drop to her lips. "So... do you remember when you said you found me intriguing?"
She groans softly, though a reluctant smile tugs at her lips. "Yes, but don't let it get to your head."
I laugh. "Too late. But for the record, I feel the exact same way about you."
She looks up at me, her breath hitching slightly. "Really? Or do you say that to all the women you sleep with?"
"No. Maybe I should," I say, rubbing my chin.
She hits my chest lightly. "Ass."
I catch her wrist, holding it gently. "You're different from any woman I've ever met," I say, my tone turning entirely serious. "It's so ironic, almost laughable, that we're on opposite sides."
"Well..." She shrugs, her smile going wide. "If I wasn't, it would be too perfect."
"And where's the fun in that?" I ask, and we both laugh.
For a moment, we just lie there, the space between us softening into something fragile and real.
"What happens next?" she asks finally, her voice barely above a whisper.
A million scenarios run through my head. Secure the ring. Copy the data. Disappear before Dimitri's men find us and figure out who Ivan is.
But as I look into her blue eyes, feeling the warmth of her bare skin against mine, I push the entire mafia world away.
Instead, I wrap my arms around her.
"Let's sleep," I say into her hair. "And figure it all out in the morning."
She kisses my chest, her lips soft against my skin, and curls into me. Her scent fills my lungs, and I close my eyes, letting the exhaustion finally take over.
For now, this is enough. It has to be.
Because tomorrow, the sun will rise, and we'll be back on opposite sides.