Why can’t we just end this stupid game? The auction house already took their cut, and the rest of the money is waiting to be sent to Viktor when our contract period officially ends. But to him, shuffling that money back to me feels like cheating. It would still feel like charity. His pride just can't handle it.
He needs to look at his hands and know that he earned the right to touch me, dollar by dollar, through his own work. What Viktor has built in such a short time is truly a marvel. While I know I had a hand in his higher-than-average paychecks andconnections, he still did the heavy lifting on his own. He works like a horse. Besides, in our circle, everyone has had help—rich families, connections, silver spoons. But a lot of rich daddy's boys with the exact same opportunities I presented him with couldn't turn it into anything fruitful like he has.
I just wish he'd realize my issue was never about the money; my issue was how dependent on me he was. I was terrified he wouldn't be able to say no to me because of the imbalance between us. But Viktor now is a powerhouse. The doubts and fears I had before are dissipating.
But the roadblock has just moved from my pride to his. Now, he wants to prove to himself that he deserves me.
And as he finally pulls me against his chest to cuddle on the couch, I realize that despite the madness and the mess of it all—nothing has ever felt so right in my life.
Chapter Twenty
Valentina
Idespise these ‘charity’ galas.
A headache is forming right behind my eyes. Everyone in our circle knows exactly what they are: a glorified tax write-off, accompanied by a lavish, multi-million-dollar party to celebrate. These people don’t care about the poor or the needy. It makes my stomach turn to watch them pretend to be so deeply involved and saintly.
But it’s a game I’m forced to play.
I run a brush through my freshly curled hair and apply a swipe of dark red lipstick. The dress I chose is a floor-length crimson gown with a slit that cuts high up my thigh.
I grab my clutch and head out toward the foyer, only to run straight into Viktor.
He’s just heading out for his shift, but he stops dead in his tracks the second he sees me. He scans me up and down.
"To where?" he demands.
"A gala," I sigh.
A dark cloud instantly settles over his features. "Why am I just hearing about this now? Why wasn’t this on the security schedule?"
I roll my eyes, though I can't quite muster any real annoyance. Waking up wrapped in his arms this morning had been an unexpected cortisol lower; it has kept me feeling bizarrely relaxed all day. "Viktor, relax. I honestly forgot all about it until Sarah paged me three hours ago."
"Unacceptable," he growls, instantly slipping into a cranky mood. "I need to cancel my shift tonight. I'm coming with you."
"Hey," I step into his path, placing both of my hands against his jaw. "You can’t do that."
His eyes lock onto mine, still simmering with frustration.
"You are just starting out," I tell him softly. “If you start blowing off clients, you'll ruin the reputation you've worked like a horse to build. If a career man is what you want to be, you don't compromise on your shifts."
It’s the absolute truth, and if he’s determined to be my equal, I’m not going to spare him what I learned the hard way.
Viktor lets out a defeated curse under his breath, leaning his face into my palms.
"You look completely gorgeous," he mutters. "Men are going to be ogling you all night. And we still haven’t figured out whosent you that gun. How am I supposed to just let you walk out that door alone?"
"Shh," I murmur, pressing a quick kiss to his lips. "Compromise. I'll take whatever security detail you want."
He sighs, the rigid tension in his shoulders giving way a fraction.
"Marcus," he says firmly. "You'll take Marcus as your personal lead.”
I smile. Viktor and Marcus have developed a friendship. If Marcus is there, Viktor will actually be able to breathe.
"Fine," I agree, sliding my hands down to pat his chest. "Marcus is in charge.”
I turn to leave, but Viktor pulls me back into his chest so fast the silk of my dress hisses against his trousers.
