The tension in the room was suffocating. Marina watched as Viktor rounded the desk, his every step deliberate, his dark eyes never leaving hers. The flickering firelight cast sharp shadows across his chiseled features, deepening the air of menace that surrounded him.
She forced herself to stand still, though every instinct screamed at her to flee.
When he finally stopped in front of her, his towering presence made her feel small, vulnerable. He reached out, his fingers brushing her chin, tilting her head up until she had no choice but to meet his gaze.
"Do you understand what you've done by coming here?" His voice was low, smooth, yet laced with authority.
Marina swallowed hard, her heart hammering against her ribs. "I had no choice," she whispered.
"There's always a choice," Viktor murmured, his thumb trailing lightly along her jawline. "You chose me. And now, you'll live with the consequences."
His touch was deceptively gentle, but his meaning was anything but. He released her, stepping back with a satisfied smirk as if her silent submission amused him.
Marina exhaled shakily, struggling to collect her thoughts. She had known Viktor Castellano was powerful, but nothing had prepared her for the sheer force of his presence. He wasn't just dangerous—he was consuming. There was a raw magnetism about him, one that made it impossible to look away.
"Dimitri will show you to your room," Viktor said, nodding toward the man who had escorted her inside. "You'll stay here until I decide what to do with you."
Panic flickered in her chest. "Wait—what do you mean, 'decide'? We had a deal."
Viktor's lips curled, a slow, almost amused smile. "We do. But my protection comes at a price, Marina. And you will pay it."
Her stomach twisted, but she nodded, knowing she had no choice. Without another word, Viktor turned away, dismissing her as easily as he would a business transaction. Dimitri gestured for her to follow.
The room Dimitri led her to was nothing like the prison cell she had feared. It was lavish—plush bedding, ornate furnishings, a sprawling window that overlooked the vast estate. Yet, the heavy locks on the door and the unshakable sense of being watched were reminders that she was no guest.
As soon as the door clicked shut behind her, she collapsed onto the edge of the bed. Her hands trembled as she pressed them against her lap, trying to still the shaking that wouldn't stop.
Her father had ordered her death.
The thought replayed in her mind like a cruel echo, each repetition cutting deeper than the last. The man who had raised her, who had shaped her into the perfect political pawn, had just as easily decided to discard her when she became a liability.
Now, her life depended on Viktor Castellano.
Fear wrapped around her chest like a vice, but beneath it, another emotion stirred. Curiosity. She had expected Viktor to be ruthless, cold—he was. But there was something more beneath the surface, something she couldn't quite name.
What have I gotten myself into?
Meanwhile, in Viktor's Study
Viktor leaned against the edge of his desk, a glass of whiskey cradled in his hand as he watched the flames dance in the fireplace. Marina Vasiliev. The name rolled through his thoughts, alongside the memory of her wide, frightened eyes.
She was beautiful, yes. But that wasn't what intrigued him. It was the desperation—the reckless, foolish audacity to come to him for help. She was either incredibly brave or incredibly naive.
Dimitri stepped into the room, his sharp gaze assessing. "You trust her?"
Viktor took a slow sip of whiskey. "Trust? No."
Dimitri frowned. "Then why let her stay?"
Viktor set his glass down. "Because she has something I want."
"She could be lying," Dimitri warned. "What if this is a setup?"
"If it is, then she's more dangerous than I thought," Viktor mused, his voice dangerously low. "But she's not lying. She's too terrified to lie."
Dimitri exhaled, but his wariness remained. "And the information she claims to have?"
Viktor's expression darkened. "That's what we'll find out. For now, she stays. I'll extract what I need from her. If she proves useful, perhaps she'll live."
"And if she doesn't?"
Viktor's smirk vanished. His voice, when he spoke, was ice. "Then she'll learn what happens to people who waste my time."
Later That Night
Sleep was impossible.
Marina tossed and turned, her mind replaying the events of the day on an endless loop. The betrayal. The fear. The silent question of whether she had just traded one death sentence for another.
Pushing back the blankets, she paced the room, rubbing her arms against the cold air. The moonlight streaming through the window painted everything in hues of silver and gray, the shadows shifting with every breath.
A knock at the door made her freeze.
Before she could answer, the door opened, and Viktor stepped inside.
"You're not asleep," he observed.
Marina turned to face him, her pulse spiking. "How could I be? I don't even know if I'll survive the night."
A flicker of something passed through his eyes—gone before she could name it. "You're safe here," he said, his tone even. "As long as you keep your end of the deal."
"I will," she whispered. "I swear, I'll tell you everything I know."
Viktor stepped closer, his presence filling the space between them. "You'd better." His voice dropped, his next words a warning. "Because if you don't, no one will be able to protect you. Not from your family… and certainly not from me."
A chill ran down her spine. Yet, beneath the fear, something else stirred—something dangerous.
For a long moment, neither of them moved. The air between them was thick, charged with an unspoken tension that neither acknowledged.
Finally, Viktor exhaled, turning toward the door. "Get some rest."
She should have felt relieved when he left, but instead, Marina stood in the middle of the room, her heart still racing, her thoughts more tangled than ever.
She had made her choice. Now, there was no turning back.