Page 9 of Owning Him
I wait for her to scream at me. Or maybe punish me.
The only sound is the faint hum of the television before she sighs. "It’s okay, Viktor. I’m just not into... whatever this is. Go to sleep. Forget all about it."
I nod and retreat to the guest wing.
The door to my room clicks shut, but sleep is impossible. Not into this.
What things does she not like? Has she never had someone between her legs that showed her why people liked sex? Maybe she’s only ever had men who were selfish, men who never bothered to stop and taste her.
Anger flares in my chest. I don’t like that.
At all.
Chapter Seven
Valentina
The leather of the steering wheel feels sticky under my palms, even with the air conditioning blasting a freezing draft into my face. My skin feels tight. Itches. Everywhere. Especially between my legs, it’s a throbbing ache.
What the fuck did Viktor do to me?
When the pressure of running an empire got too high, I’d hit up one of three contacts in my phone, and it would be done before morning. Mediocre. That’s what sex is—overrated.
But Viktor is messing with my head. I can't remember the last time I was this confused about the way my own body reacted to someone, or why I made a decision and couldn't pinpoint the exact ROI.Why, Valentina? What in the fuck is wrong with you?
By noon, I’m sitting at the head of the conference table to review an acquisition. The regional directors are talking about shipping lanes and customs delays in Cyprus, but their voices are like insects buzzing against a windowpane.
I can’t focus. My mind keeps slipping back to Viktor, the taste of cold sugar, and the heat of his tongue on my neck.
What would he look like without those grey sweatpants on?
He’s a beast. He’s probably huge—so thick I’d struggle to even take him. The thought makes heat shoot straight down my spine, making me shift uncomfortably in my chair. I can almost imagine the way his massive hands would grip my hips. He could break me, but last night, his voice had sounded so desperate. So gentle.
But then my pride stings.
In the end, I paid for him. If he puts his hands on me, if he opens his mouth for me, it’s because a piece of paper says he has to. Sex isn't something that should be forced. What if he’s only doing this because he thinks he’s supposed to? Because he thinks his survival depends on keeping my bed warm?
I’m cold. I’m ruthless. I’m my father’s daughter. But I’m not that much of a monster.
"—and if we push the timeline to Q2, we might save six percent on the import tariffs," the director to my left says.
I can feel the collar of my silk blouse constricting against my throat, choking me.
"We're done for today," I say, cutting him off mid-sentence.
"Ms. Blackwood?" the director asks, frowning. "We haven't touched the compliance clauses."
"Later," I snap, pushing my chair back. "I have an off-site matter to handle. Have the revised deck on my desk by Monday morning."
Bitchy move. I never claimed not to be a bitch, though.
I stand up, adjusting the high, stiff cuff around my neck.
The drive back to the penthouse feels like it takes forever. I need to get home, or else I’ll suffocate. When I finally make it, Elias looks surprised to see me before five o'clock. "Welcome back, Valentina. Would you like to start dinner early tonight?"
"No, I’m not hungry," I sigh, rubbing the area between my brows. "But make something for Viktor. He might be too shy to ask you for food."
"Of course," Elias says with a knowing nod, slipping back into the kitchen.
