Marina stood frozen by the window, Viktor's words echoing in her ears like a commandment she couldn't ignore. His parting words—"Good, because I'm going to need your body very soon"—clung to her skin, leaving her feeling vulnerable and exposed.
She exhaled shakily, her resolve hardening as she reminded herself of the stakes. This wasn't about pride or vanity; this was survival. Viktor's protection was her only shield, and losing it wasn't an option—not with her father and Anton circling like vultures.
A sharp knock on the door startled her, and Claudia stepped inside, carrying a dress draped over her arm. "Miss Marina," she said in her soft, measured tone, "Mr. Castellano has requested you to join him and his guests in the living room."
Marina frowned. "Now? Like this?"
Claudia's gaze didn't waver. "He insists you wear this." She held up the dress—a slinky, black number with a hem that ended scandalously high and a neckline that plunged daringly low.
Marina's eyebrows shot up. "This… is what he wants me to wear?"
Claudia hesitated but nodded. "He was specific."
Marina's irritation flared. She wanted to refuse, to stand her ground, but Viktor's authority loomed over her like an unbreakable chain. Forcing a smile, she took the dress. "Fine," she said, her voice tight.
As she slipped into the dress, her reflection stared back at her from the mirror. The fabric clung to her body, revealing the top of her mounds, accentuating every curve, leaving little to the imagination. She pulled her hair into a sleek ponytail and applied a touch of makeup, transforming herself into the vision Viktor demanded. But as she fastened the thin straps of her heels, her mind raced. Why this dress? Why now? She felt like a pawn in a game she was still learning to play.
When Marina stepped into the living room, the low hum of conversation halted abruptly.
Viktor's sharp gaze snapped to her immediately. For a moment, his expression faltered. His usual composed demeanor cracked, and something flickered in his eyes—admiration mixed with a dangerous possessiveness.
Nikolai and Matteo, Viktor's closest friends, were seated on the leather couch. Both men stood as Marina entered, their gazes raking over her with undisguised curiosity. Dimitri, standing by the window with his hands in his pockets, didn't rise. He merely glanced at her briefly, his expression unreadable, before turning back to the cityscape.
"Gentlemen," Viktor said, his voice betraying no emotion. "This is Marina Vasiliev."
Nikolai, tall and broad-shouldered with a disarming smile, stepped forward first. "Charmed," he said, his voice warm but laced with intrigue.
Matteo, leaner but exuding an air of danger, smirked as he extended a hand. "A pleasure to finally meet the woman Viktor has been so… protective of."
Marina shook their hands stiffly, feeling Viktor's eyes boring into her every move. She felt like a pawn on display in a high-stakes game she didn't fully understand—but one she couldn't afford to lose.
Alina, perched elegantly in an armchair, didn't bother hiding her disdain. Her emerald eyes gleamed as she looked Marina up and down. "Viktor has a type, I see," she said with a saccharine smile.
Viktor ignored the remark, his attention fixed solely on Marina. "Dance," he commanded, his tone leaving no room for argument.
Marina's eyes widened. "What?"
"You heard me." His gaze was unyielding. "Dance."
Anger flared in her chest. She wanted to demand an explanation, to refuse outright. But something in Viktor's expression—part challenge, part expectation—silenced her. Taking a steadying breath, she stepped into the center of the room as soft music began to play.
Her movements were hesitant at first, every step a visible struggle against the vulnerability she felt. But as the music swelled, she let herself go, her body finding the rhythm. Her arms swayed, her hips moved, and her bare feet glided across the floor. Each movement was defiance—a reclaiming of her dignity under their scrutinizing eyes.
Viktor's gaze never left her. Regret gnawed at him as he watched her dance, a regret that intensified with each step she took. She was mesmerizing—too mesmerizing. He hated the way Nikolai and Matteo's eyes followed her, hated the way Alina's smug smirk grew. She was his, and yet here she was, on display for others.
"She's exquisite," Nikolai murmured, leaning toward Viktor.
"She's under my protection," Viktor replied, his voice clipped. But the words felt hollow, even to him.
Dimitri's gaze, however, remained on Viktor, not Marina. A slight narrowing of his eyes betrayed his disapproval of the spectacle. "This isn't necessary," he said quietly, his voice calm but firm.
Viktor's head snapped toward him, irritation flickering across his face. "I decide what's necessary."
Dimitri didn't argue further, but the tension in his jaw was unmistakable.
As the song ended, Marina came to a halt, her breath uneven. She avoided Viktor's gaze, knowing that if she looked at him, she might lose the fragile composure she'd managed to hold onto.
Alina rose gracefully, her heels clicking against the marble floor. She walked over to Viktor, her hand brushing his shoulder. "She's lovely," Alina said, her voice dripping with false sweetness. "But, Viktor, we both know beauty only goes so far. What else does she offer?"
Marina stiffened, her fists clenching at her sides. She expected Viktor to defend her, to shut Alina down, but he said nothing. His silence cut deeper than Alina's words ever could.
Before the tension could escalate further, Viktor's phone buzzed on the table. He answered it, his expression darkening as he listened.
"What is it?" he snapped.
Marina strained to catch the words of whoever was on the other end, but she couldn't hear.
Viktor's jaw tightened. "I'll handle it. Stay there and don't move."
He ended the call and stood abruptly, his presence commanding the room. "Nikolai, Matteo, with me."
"What's going on?" Nikolai asked, already on his feet.
"Anton's making a move," Viktor said curtly. His gaze flicked to Marina for the briefest moment, something unreadable in his eyes, before he strode toward the door.
As he disappeared into the night with Nikolai and Matteo, Dimitri lingered for a moment, his eyes meeting Marina's briefly. "Be careful," he said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper, before following the others.
Marina was left standing in the dimly lit room, her heart pounding with a mix of anger and fear. Whatever Viktor was walking into, she had the sinking feeling it was only the beginning of a storm that would change everything.