Page 17 of Owning Him
"Where were you?" I repeat, stepping closer to her.
She rolls her eyes, her chin tilting high with that stubborn pride that makes my cock throb. "If you must know, I was at work. I do not have a curfew."
I reach out to grab her wrist, wanting to pull her closer. A caught groan escapes her lips, and she flinches back.
My gaze drops instantly to her wrist.
There are thick, ugly red finger marks wrapping tightly around it.Someone grabbed her.
The rage that explodes inside my chest is indescribable. I wish I could find the words for it, because maybe then itwouldn't feel like my veins are filling with liquid fire. My skin is thick. I can handle hits, abuse, chains, and pipes. I have survived the worst filth the world has to offer. But Valentina? No matter how much she likes to pretend she is made of stone, her body is small. Her skin is fragile. She is soft, beautiful, and delicate.
I would break any hand that dared to hurt the hands that reached out to me in my moment of weakness. The hands that pulled me out of the gutter.
She’s my savior. Not in the traditional sense, but she is. And someone hurt her.
"Who did this to you?" I growl, the sound so violently dark it doesn't even sound human. I step into her space, my chest nearly touching her face.
"I can handle myself, Viktor," she snaps. "It is taken care of."
"Do you see me?" I roar. "Do you think these muscles are for show? You do not need to handle yourself!"
We breathe harshly into each other's faces.
"It was some desperate man at work," she whispers. "He got aggressive. I threw him across the room, and my security dealt with it. I handle my own business."
"Your security is shit," I rasp, my thumb brushing just a millimeter away from the purple bruises on her wrist, my touch agonizingly gentle compared to the shit in my mind. "You need better. If a man touches you like this again, Valentina, I will tear his arms from his body."
She shakes her head, placing her palm against my chest to create space between us.
But her hand never leaves my skin.
I stay frozen, letting her hold me at bay, because her touch feels like the rightest thing in the entire world. Is it the same for her?
"I'm too tired for the caveman attitude, Viktor," she grumbles.
She kicks off her designer heels, a painful groan slipping past her lips as her bare feet hit the cold marble. More pain.
My jaw tightens. Is this girl in pain all the time?Fuck.Why do women wear those torture devices if they constantly stab their little feet? Yes, she is short—but it is the most endearing thing I have ever seen.
Without giving her a warning, I lean down and scoop her up into my arms.
"Viktor! Put me down!" she screams as she starts kicking her legs. "I am not some fucking damsel in distress!"
I tighten my grip, absorbing her blows like they are nothing but raindrops.
"Put your pride away, for fucking once!" I hiss down at her. "Let me at least try to repay you for what you've done for me."
Valentina glares up at me. "Viktor, I told you... I am not that good of a person. I didn't do it out of charity. There is nothing to repay."
"For me, there is! Let me."
She searches my face before finally giving in, her body going soft against mine. I carry her down the hallway and into the dimly lit living room, placing her on the couch. She sinks deep into the cushions, her eyes following my every move.
I drop to my knees on the floor in front of her, untying the tight ponytail she's been wearing all day and letting her long, brown hair tumble down around her shoulders. I slide my fingers into her scalp, massaging the tension right out of her temples.
A soft whimper leaves her throat.
"Better?" I murmur.
