Page 111 of Victor's Lethal Desire
"We?"
"Of course. I'll need to secure enough people in Parliament so coalition negotiations nominate the exact person I want as prime minister. Then we'll control the country."
She blinks at me, then takes another sip. "I don't really know what any of that means."
I take another sip, the whiskey smooth on my tongue. "You don't need to. It'll be a lot of dinner parties, events, and the occasional holding someone off the edge of a building until they give me what I want. You know, fun stuff."
"Fun stuff," she says, nodding slowly. "And you think it'll all work out?"
"Yes, especially with you by my side. Also, my team and I have been working at this for years. I was mayor of Bucharest and have held other positions, naturally."
"Yes, I knew a bit about it," she says, her lips quirking into a small smile.
"So, what exactly will you have me doing?" she asks, leaning back in her chair.
"I already told you. Wearing beautiful dresses," I say. "Smiling for the cameras. And answering to 'Mrs. Ionescu.'"
She gasps, a nervous laugh escaping her. "What?"
"Why not? You obviously can't get enough of me," I say, and she rolls her eyes. "And I have a rule about women."
"What's that?" she asks, taking another sip.
"If, under any circumstances, you meet a woman who will literally take a bullet for you while saving your life, you don't let her go."
She shrugs, smiling. "It's a pretty good rule," she says and sits forward. "I've got one, too."
"Interesting. Let's hear it."
"If a man ever risks his life to come save you, it may be a good idea to see where it goes."
I start laughing, and so does she, and I clink my glass against hers again. "It goes all the way to the top. Together as one."
I finish my drink and lean over, grabbing her chin between my thumb and forefinger. "You belong to me, and you're mine now," I say, then kiss her. "And you're never leaving me. You know that, right?"
She licks her lips and looks up at me. "Yeah."
I kiss her again, harder this time, tasting the whiskey on her tongue and the softness of her lips. My hand slides to the back of her neck, holding her close.
I start to slide my hand down when the phone rings.
She pulls back, her eyes wide.
"Who has that number?" she asks.
"No one. It's a burner," I say, grabbing it from the desk.
She looks at the caller ID, her face tightening slightly. "That's a Moscow number."
I hand the phone to her. "You answer it."
She clears her throat and answers, her voice steady.
I sit, listening. I can hear Ivan's voice on the other end, but I understand nothing of what they're saying. The Russian flows between them like a secret language, and all I can do is watch her face and try to guess what they are talking about.
Her eyes go wide suddenly, and she nods.
Then she hangs up.
