Page 22 of Owning Him
He keeps trying to seduce me. Viktor is a force of raw, magnetic sex appeal that no one on this earth could ever compare to. And I keep saying no.
I say no because this man is so much more than a body to be used. Every single time he touches me, all I can think about is that if I give in, I am no different from every other person he was forced to serve in those brothels—even if he swears he wants it.
Even though he is now an official part of my lead security team, I try not to depend too much on him. I force myself to maintain a distance because I don't know if I will ever see him again once his time is up. There is only a month and a half left of our three-month contract.
And the terrifying truth is, I desperately want him to stay.
I am falling in love with him like a sappy, pathetic little girl. Can anyone blame me? This terrifying giant comes homeand gently massages my aching feet after a fourteen-hour day in heels. He protects me from the very air itself. He stubbornly insists on having breakfast, lunch, and dinner with me, refusing to let me skip a single meal no matter how buried I am in paperwork.
It isn't only me whose attention he has completely captured. A lot of the companies I work with notice his work during our cross-corporate events. They see how he commands a room.
So, they start asking for him.
In his spare time, I encourage him to consult for them. I have him coordinate security for major corporate events or help them completely replan their protection details. And because I am Valentina Blackwood, I make absolutely sure they pay him handsomely. Very handsomely. I review the numbers myself, ensuring they pay him exactly what he is worth.
In the end, Viktor didn’t even need my ten million dollars to survive. He’s doing phenomenally well for himself. Over the last few weeks alone, I’ve personally reviewed consulting contracts worth millions of dollars for him.
And that is exactly what he is worth. Millions. He is genuinely the best at security I have ever seen in my entire life; it just runs in his blood.
And that is precisely why, in the end, he will leave.
He will never stay with me. After all this is done, he will leave this penthouse and go after a woman who is better for him. Not a woman who reminds him of the auction block or the brothels.
I already fucking hate her, whoever she is.
The moment the doors slide open into the penthouse, I shove those thoughts down. There’s no point in dreading the inevitable. Viktor stalks inside, and he’s fucking pissed too.
I drop my purse onto the kitchen island, kicking off my stilettos. "What is your problem today, Viktor?"
He stops in the middle of the living room, turning around slowly. "You are my problem, Valentina."
A cold chill seeps back into my heart. He’s realizing he doesn’t want to be here anymore. I brace myself. Maybe this is a good thing.
"What is that supposed to mean?" I ask, my voice empty.
Before I can even register the movement, he flattens me backward onto the couch. He looms directly over me, pinning me into the cushions, keeping the brunt of his weight braced on his forearms on either side of my head.
"It means you still push me away," he rasps. "Because you refuse to see what is right in front of you. You cannot see just how much I am dying to kiss you, to hold you. Every single day, you push yourself further and further away from me."
I shrug, forcing an indifferent smile onto my face. "There is barely a month left before you leave anyway, Viktor. Why complicate it?"
On the inside, a desperate, pathetic little girl is screaming.Please stay. Don't leave. Show me we are much more than that stupid little contract.But I don't beg anyone. And I certainly won't start now.
Viktor’s face goes completely ashen. A look of absolute devastation crosses his features, and I instantly feel like cutting out my own tongue.
"Contract this, contract that," he whispers. "I already told you, Valentina. For me, it is not like that."
I shake my head, looking away from the pain in his eyes. "And I am telling you, I still cannot believe it."
The devastation on his face twists into unadulterated fury. He flings himself off me as if my very touch disgusts him.
"You are a genius in the boardroom, but you are a fool in this house," he spits, running a frantic hand through his hair. "You are so insecure that you truly think I would only want to touchyou because of a piece of paper? You think my cock cares about a bank wire? Is that it? You think I am just performing for my master?"
I flinch, my chest heaving as I stand up from the couch. "Excuse me for not wanting to be like every other wealthy woman in that brothel, Viktor!"
Viktor lets out a frustrated roar. He literally starts pulling at his hair, pacing the floor. Suddenly, he turns, stalks over to the counter, and snatches up his phone. His large thumbs fly across the screen.
Viktor adapted to technology alarmingly fast. I eventually learned why. Apparently, the brothels would sometimes dump him in front of a computer and have him manage bookings and client records. The fact that those bastards somehow found a way to squeeze office work out of human trafficking was deeply, profoundly fucked.
