Page 83 of Silken Chains
I scoff, shaking my head.
It’s a twisted kind of logic that makes my head spin. From threatening my friend to a forced marriage with a somewhat noble intent, it’s a lot to process.
“But… why would someone like you not have options?” I push, my voice barely hiding the twinge of… is that jealousy? “Plenty of women would kill for your attention.”
Quietly, he moves toward the display case, his back to me, and I can’t help but watch the confident, assured way he holds himself.
“I don’t know about killing. But you’re right; there’s no shortage of women throwing themselves at me,” he says, turning back to me with the necklace in hand, his confidence as palpable as the chilled air between us. “But marrying any of them? Having little Victors running around? No, thank you. I’d rather jump out of a plane without a parachute.”
I can’t help but snort at the image of mini-Victors terrorizing the world. “So, what? You’re just going to use me as a baby-making machine to appease your father?”
He chuckles, a deep, rumbling sound that sends shivers over my skin. “Tempting, but no. I have other plans for you, little firecracker.”
I raise an eyebrow, trying to ignore the way my pulse quickens at his words. “Plans? What, like being your arm candy and smiling prettily for the cameras?”
He steps closer, his eyes glinting with something dark and dangerous. “Oh, you’ll be doing a lot more than just smiling, Laura. Trust me on that.”
I see the hunger in his eyes, the raw desire that threatens to consume us both. And despite every instinct telling me to run, to fight, I find myself leaning into his touch, craving more.
I swallow hard, my mouth suddenly dry.
“We need each other,” he says, closing the distance between us.
He gently turns me around to face the mirror. His broad frame overshadows mine, our eyes clashing in the mirror’s reflection.
The way he dubs me “little firecracker”—it’s a mix of annoyance and allure. When he lifts his hand, the barely-there brush of his knuckles at my neck ignites a rush between my legs.
Seeing our reflection together, his proximity isn’t just disarming—it’s charged. As he loops the necklace around me, his fingertips graze my skin, then looks straight into my eyes.
“You’re the perfect choice,” he murmurs as the clasp clicks shut.
I clamp down on my lip, looking at him. A tingling warmth spreads from my heart to my veins.
“And this,” he murmurs, his breath warm against my ear as he secures the teardrop earrings, “is just for a year. Then you’re free—freedom and financial woes, all solved.”
And there it is, the crux of it all.
He’s standing there, telling me he’s as trapped by this situation as I am—we’re both prisoners of this forced marriage.
Victor looks from my eyes to the necklace and takes a deep breath.
“My mother’s favorite,” he says quietly, almost reverently. “She called it ‘tears of a princess.’”
I reach out, fingers grazing the diamond. It’s not screaming for attention, just elegantly lying there, shining against my skin. The light catches it just right, showing off its masterful cut—quiet but undeniable quality.
Now I’m wondering about Victor’s mother, the woman who wore this before me. A Pakhan’s wife—was she pushed into marriage like I am? What was she like? How did she end up… dead?
“You…” Victor pauses, his Adam’s apple bobbing, “look beautiful.”
“Thanks…” I mutter, feeling a blush heat my cheeks, eyes darting away.
Victor takes a few steps back and heads toward a dark drawer on the other side of the room. I hear him open it, then close it. He turns back to face me, hesitates for a moment, then walks back to where I am. He’s standing close to me now, close enough for me to see the flicker of uncertainty in his eyes. Without saying a word, he opens the box in his hands.
I hold my breath as I wait to see what’s inside… I mean, I know what’s inside.
Victor steps over, standing close to me, and there it is, the most stunning ring I’ve ever seen.
“Oh, my God.” My eyes widen, not just from the sheer beauty of it but from the realization of what this represents.
