32. Victor
VICTOR
Ilie there, post-sex bliss radiating through my body, with Danika next to me. She's warm against me, her blonde hair fanned across my chest, and for the first time in weeks, maybe months, I feel something close to peace.
Then she asks the one question I don't want to think about.
"So, how do we handle Ivan and this feud?"
The words just sit between us. Up here at 40,000 feet above the ground, it feels almost sacred, but it's not over.
No matter how much I want to pretend otherwise, no matter how much I want to keep her in this bed and forget everything else exists, the world doesn't stop spinning because I fucked the woman who's slowly capturing every piece of me.
I stare at the ceiling, feeling the shift inside me.
The romantic haze, the softness I let myself indulge in, is still there, but the atmosphere changes.
My brain kicks into gear. The part of me that's spent years in backrooms and offices, negotiating deals and manipulating outcomes, takes the wheel.
I exhale slowly, organizing my thoughts before I answer. "Now, we do what I do best, baby. We play politics."
Danika lifts her head, her blue eyes narrowing slightly.
I swing my legs out of bed and walk to my battered bag, the one that somehow survived the firefight at the hotel.
I pull out some clothes and get dressed.
I roll the sleeves of the white dress shirt up to my elbows and leave it unbuttoned.
The air in the cabin is cool against my chest, but I'm still hot from what we just did.
I find another dress shirt and turn, holding it out. "You can wear this."
She sits up and takes it with a small smile. The sight of her naked body makes my chest tighten with something possessive and primal. But I force my mind to stay on track.
I walk over to the small mahogany desk in the corner of the suite. On it is a laptop, almost as big as the desk's surface. I sit, the leather chair creaking, and power it on. Behind me, I hear the rustle of fabric as Danika slips into the shirt.
When I glance back, she's buttoning it, the hem falling mid-thigh, her legs bare beneath it. My oversized dress shirt swallows her frame, and the possessiveness flares again, hot and insistent.
She's mine now. Every inch of her.
She walks over, barefoot, and stands behind me, her fingers resting lightly on the back of my chair. "What are you doing?"
I start typing, my fingers moving quickly across the keyboard. "Every one of these jets has a computer you can use. I'm logging into my family's encrypted servers so nothing we do on here is traceable."
She leans closer, her breath warm against my ear as she watches the screen. Login credentials, firewalls, and security protocols; it's second nature to me now.
When I finish, the screen flashes green, and I turn in my chair to look at her. "Let me have the ring."
Her gaze drops to her hand, and for a moment, she hesitates. The fake diamond causes conflict in her eyes.
"I'm going to upload it and show you what's on there," I say, keeping my voice steady.
She nods slowly, then pulls the ring off and slips the tiny diamond piece free, revealing the micro-USB adapter hidden inside. She hands it to me, her fingers brushing mine for a second longer than necessary.
I slide the adapter into the laptop's USB port and start copying the files into our secure folder. The progress bar appears, crawling forward slowly.
"It'll take some time," I say, turning to look at her. "Airplane Wi-Fi and all."
I stand and grab the other chair from the corner, bringing it over. "Sit."
She does, her legs crossing beneath my shirt, and I take my seat across from her, leaning back slightly.
"I'm going to tell you how things will go," I say.
She arches an eyebrow, her lips quirking into a half-smile. "Really?"
"Yes."
She leans back in her chair, her arms crossing over her chest. The shirt rides up slightly, exposing more of her thighs, but her expression is guarded now, curious.
"I am going to show you what's on that drive, and once I do, you need to call Ivan, explain everything, and suggest a meeting with my family."
Danika's expression shifts, the smile fading. She looks away, her jaw tightening.
"What's wrong?" I ask, leaning forward slightly. "Wasn't that your mission? To give him what's on it?"
She nods, then looks back at me, her blue eyes troubled. "I just feel, ugh..." She stops, rubbing her forehead. "Like we killed his brother. It's like I defected, Victor. If I call him and tell him what went down, he might put a hit on me."
I reach across the space between us and grab her hand. Her skin is warm, her grip tight.
"He won't," I say firmly. "Not if you show him how his brother made a fool of his family.
You send him the contents of that drive, and he'll see everything Dimitri was doing.
How he planned on taking over. This gives Ivan a chance to rebuild.
Turn his family into something new without being sabotaged. "
She looks at me for a long moment, her expression unreadable. "You're asking me to trust you on that. It's..."
"Yes, I am. But not just on this. On everything moving forward.
That's how this works. If we can't trust one another, then what the hell are we doing?
We've each proven we're willing to die for the other person, so why can't we have trust?
Do you think I would do something to put you in harm's way? "
She stiffens slightly, then winces, her hand moving to her side. "Shit. Pain's back." She touches the bruise over her ribs, then smiles faintly. "You made me forget about it."
She takes a deep breath, her shoulders relaxing slightly. "You're right. It's my old ways. Honestly, I trust you. Even when I'm scared, hesitant, or nervous, you always seem to hold on to your word. So fine. If this is how you think we should best handle it, then we will."
I lean forward and kiss her slowly, tasting her again. When I pull back, she's smiling.
"But what if they do put a hit on me?" she asks.
I shrug. "Then I take care of whoever comes. Besides, they'd put the hit on me, too."
I glance back at the computer and see the progress bar has hit 100%. The files are uploaded.
"Here," I say, pulling her chair closer to mine until our knees are almost touching. "Let's look at it."
She leans in, her shoulder brushing mine, and I open the first folder. The screen fills with documents, spreadsheets, and encrypted communications. I start walking her through it, clicking through the files one by one.
Wire transfers. Hundreds of them. Millions of dollars moving through shell companies, offshore accounts, and dummy corporations. Dimitri's name is everywhere, buried under layers but unmistakable once you know what to look for.
Then the Siberian Ice files. Shipment manifests. Distribution networks. Photos of blue vials stacked in crates.
And then the trafficking houses. Addresses. Photos. Women's faces. We go over it all, some of which I saw and some of which I didn't.
When we're done, Danika leans back in her chair, speechless. Her face has gone pale, her lips pressed into a thin line.
"Dimitri hinted at these things," she says quietly, "when I was with him, but knowing and seeing are..." She trails off, staring at the screen.
"And how many of these trafficking houses with those women still exist?" she asks, her voice tight.
"My brothers took out the ones in LA, but according to these documents, there are lots more. We're going to need Ivan's network plus ours to wipe them out."
She shakes her head slowly, her gaze distant. "I don't get how two brothers could be so different. One saved me, the other would have sold me. A 50/50 shot. Is that what life's all about? It either goes one way or the other, and that's it?"
I lean back in my chair and sigh, rubbing my jaw. "I think it starts that way. I think you can fight to get the other 50% if you don't like the cards you're dealt. I think most people have the power to change things."
"And those women in the pictures?" she asks. "Where's their power? They didn't want that."
I think for a moment. "No, it was taken from them. That's why we're going to destroy the men who took it away from them."
She looks down at the ground, her hands folded in her lap.
We sit there in silence, a true silence neither of us has experienced together before. Our lives together have been go, go, go, and this is different.
"So," she says finally, looking up at me. "I'll call Ivan."
I nod. "You can use the phone I have, and I'll show you how to send it wherever it is you need to."
I get up, and she takes my seat in front of the laptop. I walk to my bag and pull out my encrypted burner phone, which thankfully lacks bullet holes, and power it on. I hand it to her, then sit on the edge of the desk, watching.
She takes a few breaths, her fingers hovering over the screen for a moment before she dials.
The line rings twice before a voice answers.
I watch, fascinated and undeniably aroused, as Danika shifts into another version of herself, the lethal, untouchable assassin.
I hear Dimitri's name come up several times, and then she motions to the computer. I lean forward, bringing up the encrypted messaging app.
She starts typing quickly on the keyboard, her fingers flying across the keys, and then hits "Send" on the laptop.
She says a few more words, then hangs up and looks at me.
"He said he will review it now and that I should call him back in 30 minutes. He sounded stunned."
"Okay," I say, standing. "Stay here. I'll be right back."
I walk out into the main cabin, the lights dimmed to a soft amber glow. I pour two whiskeys into crystal glasses, adding ice and a splash of water to Danika's.
When I come back in, she's right where I left her, staring at the laptop screen.
I hand her the glass and hold mine out. "Now we wait."
She nods, tapping her glass against mine with a soft clink. Then she takes a sip, her eyes closing briefly as the whiskey hits her tongue.
I do the same, feeling the burn all the way down my throat, the warmth spreading through my chest.
"So," she says, setting her glass down on the desk. "When this is behind us, what exactly did you have in mind for your political endeavors?"
I smile, swirling the whiskey in my glass. "I'm going to run for president."
"Excuse me?" she says, almost choking. "Of Romania?"
"Of my homeowners association," I say, my smile widening.
"Funny," she says, narrowing her eyes.
"Yes. Also, so we're on the same page, during that time, we'll be secretly planning to install loyal people in key government positions."
"We?"
"Of course. I'll need to secure enough people in Parliament so coalition negotiations nominate the exact person I want as prime minister. Then we'll control the country."
She blinks at me, then takes another sip. "I don't really know what any of that means."
I take another sip, the whiskey smooth on my tongue. "You don't need to. It'll be a lot of dinner parties, events, and the occasional holding someone off the edge of a building until they give me what I want. You know, fun stuff."
"Fun stuff," she says, nodding slowly. "And you think it'll all work out?"
"Yes, especially with you by my side. Also, my team and I have been working at this for years. I was mayor of Bucharest and have held other positions, naturally."
"Yes, I knew a bit about it," she says, her lips quirking into a small smile.
"So, what exactly will you have me doing?" she asks, leaning back in her chair.
"I already told you. Wearing beautiful dresses," I say. "Smiling for the cameras. And answering to 'Mrs. Ionescu.'"
She gasps, a nervous laugh escaping her. "What?"
"Why not? You obviously can't get enough of me," I say, and she rolls her eyes. "And I have a rule about women."
"What's that?" she asks, taking another sip.
"If, under any circumstances, you meet a woman who will literally take a bullet for you while saving your life, you don't let her go."
She shrugs, smiling. "It's a pretty good rule," she says and sits forward. "I've got one, too."
"Interesting. Let's hear it."
"If a man ever risks his life to come save you, it may be a good idea to see where it goes."
I start laughing, and so does she, and I clink my glass against hers again. "It goes all the way to the top. Together as one."
I finish my drink and lean over, grabbing her chin between my thumb and forefinger. "You belong to me, and you're mine now," I say, then kiss her. "And you're never leaving me. You know that, right?"
She licks her lips and looks up at me. "Yeah."
I kiss her again, harder this time, tasting the whiskey on her tongue and the softness of her lips. My hand slides to the back of her neck, holding her close.
I start to slide my hand down when the phone rings.
She pulls back, her eyes wide.
"Who has that number?" she asks.
"No one. It's a burner," I say, grabbing it from the desk.
She looks at the caller ID, her face tightening slightly. "That's a Moscow number."
I hand the phone to her. "You answer it."
She clears her throat and answers, her voice steady.
I sit, listening. I can hear Ivan's voice on the other end, but I understand nothing of what they're saying. The Russian flows between them like a secret language, and all I can do is watch her face and try to guess what they are talking about.
Her eyes go wide suddenly, and she nods.
Then she hangs up.
I lean forward. "What did he say? Did he read the files?"
"Yes," she says, her voice low. "He believes it all. He says the rogue faction Dimitri created will be dealt with, but..."
"But?"
She swallows hard, her gaze meeting mine. "He said to set up a meeting with your family. In person."
Her voice drops. "He's coming to Romania."