“And you,” he sniped, “are jealous.”
I stared at him for a long, silent moment.
Viktor stood and clapped me on the shoulder. “Don’t worry, Mikha. You’re the responsible one. She’ll like that. Eventually.”
“I am reconsidering letting you live,” I drawled.
“Thank you,” he replied easily. “I’m adorable.”
I gave him a look that would have made most men lose their appetite.
He just winked as he sat back down.
“Try not to scowl at her like that,” he advised. “She’ll think you don’t like her.”
“This isn’t about that.”
“See?” Viktor grinned. “That’s your problem.”
He lounged in that chair like he owned the entire damn suite, watching me with the kind of lazy amusement that made me furious. He thrived on provoking me. Always had. And today, he’d found my weak spot without even trying.
He tapped the armrest with two fingers. “You’re really going to pretend this isn’t about her?”
“It’s about the mission.” I bit the words out.
He smirked. “Sure. And I’m a priest.”
“You could use a confession,” I muttered.
“That’s not the only thing I could use,” he shot back with an obnoxious wink.
I exhaled slowly, evenly, counting to ten as I did so.
It didn’t help.
“You complicate things,” I said. “We need her focused. Not… distracted by you.”
“She’s not distracted,” Viktor said simply. “She’s stubborn, brilliant, and driven. If anything, she’s more focused this morning than she was last night.”
“Because you exhausted her,” I snapped.
He grinned. “That too.”
I pinched the bridge of my nose. “You’re fucking unbelievable.”
“I’m efficient. And fun. And she liked it, by the way. A lot.”
“Viktor.”
“What? You asked.”
“I did not ask.”
He leaned forward. “You’re acting like she’s yours.”
“She’s not,” I snapped.
“But you want her to be,” he said with irritating accuracy.
