Chapter 17

Laura

I DRAGmyself out of bed, my muscles aching with every movement.

But there’s something else, a hazy memory that dances at the edges of my mind.

A dream, perhaps?

I could have sworn I felt Victor beside me, his solid presence chasing away the nightmares that have haunted me since that fateful day. The sensation of safety, of comfort, lingers like a phantom warmth on my skin.

Shaking my head, I shuffle to the bathroom, catching a glimpse of my reflection in the mirror. I look like hell, dark circles under my eyes and skin pale as a ghost.

Fucking perfect.

I splash some cold water on my face, hoping it’ll wake me up, chase away the lingering images of Dave’s wild eyes and desperate pleas. But it’s no use. The memories cling to me like a second skin, suffocating and relentless.

I grip the edges of the sink, my knuckles bleaching under the strain.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

The same questions keep swirling in my mind, a never-ending torture.

Should I tell Victor about the ledger? What if Dave comes back more unhinged than before?

I can still feel the fear that gripped me when Dave mentioned the Vasilievs, the same name that had passed Victor’s lips with such venom. It’s like I’m caught in the middle of a war I don’t understand, a pawn in some twisted game.

I take a deep breath, trying to steady myself. I need answers, but I’m terrified of what I might uncover. Victor and Ksenia’s interrogation still haunts me, their piercing gazes stripping me bare, exposing every secret, every vulnerability.

I can’t keep hiding in this room, wasting away like some tragic heroine. I need to do something, anything.

With a sigh, I make my way to the walk-in changing room, the plush carpet cushioning my bare feet.

The large mirrors lining the walls reflect my image from every angle, a stark reminder of the toll the past few weeks have taken on me.

I reach for the Chanel dress hanging on the rack, a simple but elegant number in deep emerald-green. As I pull it over my head, I can’t help but notice the changes in my body. My breasts feel fuller, my tummy a bit rounder.

Great, just what I needed. As if my life wasn’t complicated enough, now I have to deal with my body betraying me, too.

Pulling up the lacey underwear, I decide today is a no-bra day. After all, who cares what I wear if I’m going to be stuck inside this room all day?

Taking a deep breath, I suck air into my lungs and release it slowly.

I tug at the dress, trying to shimmy it down over my hips, but it seems to be stuck somewhere between my head and my boobs. I curse under my breath, my arms tangled above my head as I struggle with the stubborn fabric.

Brilliant, Laur. You can’t even dress yourself without making a mess of things. Your father would be so proud.

Suddenly, I feel a warm hand on my back, and I jerk in surprise, a muffled shout escaping my lips. The dress is still covering my face, and now, to make matters worse, my necklace seems to be hooked onto it as well.

“Who… Who’s there?”

Fucking perfect. Could this day get any worse?

I can hear him breathing. Hard. His scent hits me, awakening my body, and my pussy reacts to his presence. Shit, my breasts are dangling out there, exposed, as my hands are stuck upwards. I want to dig a hole and bury myself so badly, but Victor is holding onto me. I know he’s standing right behind of me, even though I can’t see him.

Taking a deep sigh, I try to calm my racing heart.

“What are you doing, kiska?” His voice is low, almost a growl.

“Trying to dress myself,” I muffle out a response, battling with the fabric and the embarrassment.

I hear him chuckle.

“Looks like you’re proving how much you need me around.”

“I’m stuck,” I mumble, wiggling my arms to emphasize my predicament. “Can you help me?”

“Hold still,” he commands, his hands gripping my waist to keep me in place. The touch of his fingers on my bare skin sends a jolt of electricity through my body, making me gasp.

Damn him. Damn him and his infuriating, irresistible… everything.

I freeze, my heart pounding in my chest as I feel him step closer, his body heat enveloping me like a cocoon.

Before I can respond, he cups my breast with one hand, squeezing it firmly. I gasp, my body arching into his touch as a bolt of pleasure shoots through me.

“Victor…” I breathe, my voice barely a whisper.

But he’s not done. His other hand slides down my tummy, his fingers trailing over my skin like a brand. I try to squirm away, but he’s too strong, his grip unyielding.

“So responsive,” he growls, his hand dipping lower, lower, until he’s cupping my pussy through the thin lace of my underwear. “And already so wet for me.”

I whimper, my hips bucking against his hand involuntarily. It’s been three weeks since he’s touched me like this, three weeks of pent-up desire and frustration. My body feels like a live wire, every nerve ending sparking with need.

“Please, Victor,” I beg, not even sure what I’m asking for anymore.

He chuckles darkly, his fingers pressing harder against my clothed pussy. “Please what, wife? Tell me what you want.”

I can feel his erection pressing against my ass, hard and insistent. The knowledge that he wants me just as badly sends a thrill racing down my spine.

“I want… I need…” But the words won’t come, lost in the haze of pleasure clouding my mind.

Victor’s hand leaves my breast, moving up to tangle in my hair. He tugs my head back, exposing my throat to his hungry gaze.

“You need what, kiska? My cock buried inside this tight little cunt?” He punctuates his words with a sharp thrust of his hips, grinding against me. “Need me to fuck you until you scream my name?”

“God, yes,” I moan, beyond caring how desperate I sound. “Please, Victor. Fuck me.”

For a moment, he goes still, and I’m afraid he’s going to deny me, to leave me hanging on the edge of this exquisite torture. But then, with a muttered curse, he’s yanking at my dress, pulling it down my body with a swift, violent motion.

I hear the snap of my necklace breaking, feel the cool air rushing over my exposed skin. But I couldn’t care less, not when Victor is turning me around, his mouth crashing down on mine in a bruising kiss.

I melt into him, my hands coming up to tangle in his hair as I open for him, letting him plunder my mouth with his tongue. It’s a clash of teeth and lips and desperation, weeks of denied passion pouring out in one electrifying moment.

Victor’s hands are everywhere, kneading my ass, skimming up my sides, cupping my face as he devours me. I can feel the hard length of him pressing against my stomach, and I ache to have him inside me, to feel him stretching me, filling me.

But just as suddenly as it began, Victor is pulling away, his breathing harsh and ragged. He rests his forehead against mine, his eyes squeezing shut as he visibly tries to rein himself in.

“Fuck, kiska,” he rasps, his voice rough with desire. “The things you do to me…”

I can only whimper in response, my body thrumming with need, with the urge to pull him back to me and finish what we started.

But Victor is already stepping back, putting distance between us. He runs a hand through his hair, his chest heaving as he tries to compose himself.

“Get dressed,” he says, his voice still gravelly but firm. “We have places to be.”