Page 7 of Owning Him
The rest of the day is a blur of work. It’s exhausting. By the time I make it home, the sun is a bruised purple smudge on the horizon.
I drop my keys on the marble console, already searching for Viktor. But the foyer is empty.
"Elias?" I call out, unbuttoning my blazer.
Elias appears from the kitchen, wiping his hands on a towel. "Welcome home, Valentina."
"Where is he?" I ask, glancing toward the guest wing.
"The gym," Elias says, gesturing toward the glass-walled fitness suite at the end of the hall. "He’s been in there for three hours. He hasn't asked for a thing."
I walk down the corridor, the carpet muffling my heels. I don't know why I’m looking for him. Maybe I’ve grown used to the chill.
I push open the heavy glass doors to the gym. The air inside is thick and humid.
Viktor is a fucking beast.
He’s wearing nothing but a pair of grey sweatpants that hang low on his hips, drenched in sweat. He’s at the bench press, holding two of the heaviest dumbbells I own, and he’s pressing them in a way that makes the veins in his neck look like they’re about to burst through his skin.
I stand there, encased in that familiar cold, watching him. He’s terrifying.
The sound of the weights slamming against the floor echoes through the gym, loud enough to rattle through the soles of my shoes. Viktor pushes himself upright, chest rising and fallinghard, sweat dripping from the tip of his nose and splattering onto the rubber floor beneath him.
"You are back," he says.
"A few hours ago," I lie. I don't want him to know that he’s the first thing I sought out. Pride is the most important thing in my world. "The clothes Sarah sent over—they fit?"
He glances down at the grey sweatpants. "They are... perfect. Thank you."
"Good." I stay where I am. "Elias is finishing dinner."
Viktor stalks toward me, heat pouring off his skin before he even reaches the door. He doesn’t stop until he’s right in front of me, crowding into my space. I have to tilt my head back to look at him. Up close, he smells of salt and iron.
"You have that look in your eye, Valentina," he murmurs. "The look of a woman who has had a long day and needs to forget it."
Good god.
He leans in just an inch. "Do you want me to pleasure you? Now? Here?"
The raw sex appeal dripping off him is enough to make anyone’s head spin, and it’s been a long time since I’ve let anyone close enough to touch. But as I look into his eyes, I can’t tell if he’s offering this because he wants me, or because it’s the only currency he owns. I’ve never had to pay for sex in my life, and I won’t start now.
I press my palm flat against the center of his chest. His skin is burning hot. I feel the urge to lean in, to let the mercury of his sadness drown me, but I push back instead.
"Unless I explicitly ask, Viktor, you need to stop offering," I order.
He looks down at my hand on his chest, then back at my eyes.
"Then why?" he asks, his eyes searching mine. "Why did you buy me? Ten million for a man you do not want to use? It makes no sense."
I drop my hand and shrug. "Maybe I just felt like spending money."
It’s a lie. I’m smart with my money, just like my father was smart with his. Truly, it’s a mystery why I bid on him at the auction—even to myself.
His sadness just… interested me.
I turn away. "Dinner in ten minutes. Don't be late."
Chapter Six
