Prologue - Viktor
3-4 Years Ago
The collision sent coffee cascading down Viktor’s shirt, and he should have been pissed. Should have grabbed the clumsy bitch by the throat and made her understand what happened when you fucked with a Nikolai. Instead, he found himself staring into hazel eyes that sparkled with mischief, watching those plump lips curve into a smile that made his cock twitch.
“Shit, I’m so sorry!” She pressed a hand to her mouth, but he could see she was fighting laughter. “I swear I’m not usually this much of a disaster. Well, that’s a lie. I totally am, but today’s been especially chaotic.”
“Has it now?” He stepped closer, ignoring the way his ruined shirt clung to his chest. The scent of her perfume hit him like a punch to the gut, something floral and intoxicating that made him want to bury his face in her neck. “And what’s made your day so... chaotic?”
She gestured wildly with her hands, nearly knocking over another passerby. “Work meeting ran late, missed my lunch, spilled mustard on my favorite dress, got caught in the rain without an umbrella, and now I’ve basically baptized you in caffeine.” Her laugh was rich and genuine. “I should probably buy you a new shirt. Or at least a coffee to replace the one currently decorating your very expensive-looking suit.”
He couldn’t help but grin. When was the last time someone had made him smile without trying to get something from him? “I think I can manage to survive the coffee assault. But you’re right about owing me.” He let his gaze travel down herbody slowly, taking in every curve. “Let me think of how you can make it up to me.”
The blush that spread across her cheeks made him want to see it covering her entire body. “I’m listening.”
“Coffee. With me. Right now.” He nodded toward the café across the street. “Consider it... restitution.”
She bit her bottom lip, and fuck, he wanted to do that for her. “I don’t usually accept coffee invitations from strangers I’ve just assaulted with beverages.”
“Viktor.” He held out his hand. “Now we’re not strangers.”
“Anka.” Her palm was soft against his, but her grip was firm. Strong. He liked that. “And I suppose one coffee couldn’t hurt.”
The café was crowded, tourists and locals crammed together in the afternoon rush, but he spotted a small table tucked away in the corner. Perfect. He guided her through the crowd with his hand on the small of her back, feeling the warmth of her skin through the thin fabric of her dress.
“So, Anka,” he said once they’d settled into their seats, their knees brushing under the tiny table. “Tell me about this disaster of a day.”
She launched into a story about her boss, some prick who apparently thought yelling was an acceptable form of communication, and he found himself hanging on every word. Not because the story was particularly fascinating, but because of the way her eyes lit up when she talked, the way she used her whole body to tell the story, the way she unconsciously leaned closer to him as she spoke.
“Your turn,” she said, stirring her latte. “What do you do when you’re not getting coffee dumped on you by clumsy women?”
“Import and export.” The lie rolled off his tongue easily. He’d perfected it over the years. “Family business.”
“Sounds boring.”
He laughed. If only she knew. “It has its moments.”
She was studying his face, those hazel eyes searching for something. “You have interesting scars.”
His hand automatically went to the thin white line above his left eyebrow, a souvenir from his fifteenth birthday when his father decided he was old enough to start learning the family trade the hard way. “Occupational hazard.”
“Must be some dangerous imports.”
Before he could respond, she leaned across the table, her fingers trailing along his jaw. “I like them,” she whispered. “They make you look dangerous.”
“Maybe I am.”
Her pupils dilated, and he could see her pulse fluttering at her throat. “Promise?”
That’s when he snapped. He cupped her face in his hands and kissed her, hard and desperate, like a man dying of thirst who’d finally found water. She tasted like coffee and something sweeter, something that was purely her, and when she moaned into his mouth, he nearly lost his fucking mind.
She was kissing him back with equal fervor, her fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him closer. He could feel every curve of her body pressed against his, could smell her arousal mixing with that intoxicating perfume. When they finally broke apart,both of them breathing hard, she was looking at him like she wanted to devour him whole.
“Well,” she panted, “that was...”
“A preview.” He traced his thumb across her swollen lips. “Of what I’m going to do to you when we’re alone.”
Her cheeks flushed deeper. “Is that a promise or a threat?”
