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“Get someone over here now!” I shout.
The line cuts off before Arkady responds and I don’t know if he even heard me. I find a stairwell, tear the door open and run inside. As soon as the door clinks shut behind me, I bounce off a gate blocking the stairway, quickly finding another door behind the staircase. I run to it and yank desperately at the handle, screaming in frustration when the door shakes but refuses to open.
The door behind me slams open and bounces off the concrete wall. My stomach drops when I see the man chasing me catch up. Overhead fluorescent lighting of the stairwell reflects a line of pale light over the tattoo on his head. The rest of his ashen skin glows, but light doesn’t reach into the hollows of his eyes, making him look like a corpse as he storms directly at me. He picks me up in his arms and closes his grip around my body so tight I struggle to breathe.
“You’re my property for tonight,” he says as he tears my shirt down my back.
I try to push back against him with all my might, but it’s no help. The smell of alcohol and sweat fills my nostrils as the stubble of his cheek scrapes the side of my face.
I kick his groin, and he lets out a pained grunt, dropping me to the floor. My shirt falls to the ground in a jagged bolt of cloth, leaving me bare from the waist up. The soldier stands above me with a knife in his hand, unbuttoning his pants as he looks at me with hate in his eyes.
He swings his hand across my face, returning the slap I gave him on the dance floor at an exponentially greater force, making my vision fade to grey for a moment.
“Do as I say, or you’ll be a dead girl in a stairwell,” he threatens. He lowers himself to me as he continues to fumble with the buttons of his pants.
My gut sinks at those words, but it won’t stop me from fighting. He’s going to kill me anyway and I won’t die obeying this asshole. My arms slap and scratch in any direction I can manage. My hits elicit almost no reaction from the soldier but I keep trying, ignoring the voice in my head telling me it’s pointless.
The door at the other end of the stairwell opens. Between the swings of my arms and legs, I catch a glimpse of the person who opened the door and freeze when I discover it’s Viktor. A pang of anxiety fills me as he walks towards us.
The soldier is consumed with trying to pull my panties off, but slows as he hears Viktor walking towards us.
“What are you looking at?” The soldier growls.
Viktor leans against the staircase and crosses his arms over the hilly muscles on his chest. The fabric of his shirt folds into the muscular fault lines of his arms.
“I’m watching a man beat a little girl who won’t fuck him,” Viktor answers plainly.
“This isn’t your busine--,” the soldier snarls back.
“It is,” Viktor cuts him off. “Get off her and walk out of this stairwell.” I watch Viktor grow in anger in a way a man who is possessive about his girl would, but… I’m not his girl. He steps closer to us, halting with a wide stance in his long legs, ready for anything.
The soldier’s grip on me slackens and I scramble away, huddling in the stairwell's corner.
“You know how I am” Viktor announces as the Bratva soldier glares at him.
“I know who youclaimto be,” the soldier responds.
Viktor's thick arms drop to his sides before he clasps his hands together. “But youdoknow. And if my identity is confirmed,” he says with a widening smirk on his face, “you’ll know whose order it is that you’re defying right now.”
Viktor’s eyes narrow to an intense line across his face. “Leave,” he growls at the soldier.
The soldier scoffs at Viktor’s command, but a moment later, he pulls away and buckles his belt. He walks to Viktor with the same cold look he gave me after I slapped him.
“Even if you are Konstantin Mikhailov’s son, don’t make the mistake of thinking you’re safe here,” he hisses.
Viktor responds with a dismissive chuckle. “You’re the second person to threaten me tonight. Get some tips from the first man. He’s more entertaining.”
The soldier spits at the ground beside Viktor and looks in my direction before storming back into the hall.
My body slumps over in momentary relief before I realize I’m in a room alone with Viktor Mikhailov. The man who saved my life all those years ago just did it again. But he doesn’t know who I am… at least I hope he doesn’t. I can’t let him recognize me, much less find out I was sent here to spy on him.
Viktor brushes his wavy, sun-colored hair towards the back of his head and keeps still for a moment, as if he’s enjoying watching me cower. He steps forward, leaning down until our eyes are at the same level. My stomach flutters as his frigid eyes lock on me. He extends his long arms and gathers me into them in a way that almost deceives me into feeling safe.
“I don’t need help,” I say in protest, but he’s already lifting me. He stands upright and sets me down as we look at each other. Cold air brushes across my chest and I realize the top of my dress is gone. I’ve been standing in front of him with no bra. His eyes study the lines of my body, drifting into the curls of my dark hair. A trail of searing heat burns into my skin anywhere his eyes fall on me. How can eyes that look so cold feel so warm? I suck in a breath of air and brace myself against the wall, trying to avoid his gaze so he doesn’t recognize me.
I also don’t want him to see just how much he’s turning me on right now.
“Thank you,” I say with my head pointed at the ground to hide my face.
