Page 45 of Never Distract a Biker

Viktor's oversized t-shirt that I have on hangs off my shoulders. It feels like a soft dress against my skin. It's both foreign and intimate, a contradiction that has become the very essence of my relationship with him. Clutching the fabric, I stand, feeling suddenly vulnerable yet shrouded in his presence. Curiosity and hunger drive me towards the door; the latter makes my steps tentative, each one cautious as if the floor beneath me might betray my weight and sound an alarm.

I need to eat. The thought is simple and urgent. With my free hand, I reach for the door handle, steeling myself for whatever lies beyond. It's not just the mansion's unknown corridors that unsettle me; it's the man who owns everything here. The billionaire mafia lord who's as enigmatic as he is dangerous.

But he's also the father of my child, the man whose gaze ignites a fire within me despite the coldness of our circumstances. I take a deep breath, ready to face whatever comes next, because if there's one thing I've learned, it's that nothing is ever straightforward with Viktor. And somehow, against all odds, I'm starting to be okay with that.

Pregnancy hormones, I guess.

The door clicks shut behind me, a soft snick in the overwhelming silence. I pause, letting the hush of the house wrap around me like a heavy cloak. My bare feet sink into the plush carpet, each step tentative as I move down the corridor.

Shadows play tricks on my eyes, stretching and twisting in the dim light spilling from hidden candelabra. The opulence ofViktor's mansion is muted here, turned to monochrome by the twilight. I hug myself. Viktor's T-shirt is a flimsy barrier against the chill coming from within. Each breath I take seems loud and intrusive, but it's the pulse thrumming in my ears that truly marks the rhythm of my trepidation.

I'm not just carrying my fear; there's another life inside me, a tiny heartbeat that echoes my own. My hand drifts to my belly, a protective gesture that's become second nature. I need to be strong for us both, even if everything within this gilded cage makes me feel small and lost.

There’s a sense of movement just ahead of me—more like a whisper in the quiet, snapping my head up. I freeze, the sound slicing through me, sharpening my senses further. Every shadow could be an ally or an enemy—I’m sure in Viktor’s world, these lines often blurred.

My next breath is a gulp of air, but I press forward, drawn by the primal need to nourish the life growing inside me. The corridor feels endless, every corner leading to another stretch of uncertainty. I’m too hungry to retrace my steps back to his room; in fact, I’d worry about finding my way back after eating.

Perhaps I’ll call an Uber to take me back to his room.

This mansion is certainly huge enough to require a taxi to go from one end to the other, I muse.

“Aww.” I moan painfully from colliding with a wall. A solid wall of muscle halts me in motion, and I stumble back with agasp, arms flailing for balance. Viktor's hands clamp onto my arms like steel bands, steadying me. His touch sears through the fabric of his shirt, burning into my skin.

"Careful," he rumbles, the single word a low growl that resonates in the space between us.

Our eyes meet, and the world narrows down to him and me. Surprise flickers across his features, quickly masked by the stoic façade he wears like armor.

"Hi," I breathe out, a shaky whisper that betrays my inner turmoil.

He doesn't let go, and the tension coils tighter around us, a tangible force that threatens to consume us both.

A charged hush wraps around us. I can't move, can't think. His grip on me is iron yet gentle as if he's holding something precious. Viktor's eyes, a piercing blue that I swear could cut through steel, search mine with an intensity that sends shivers down my spine. I see questions in them, questions I'm unsure I have answers to.

"Scarlett," he says, voice barely above a whisper, but it echoes like thunder in the silence. His gaze never wavers, and I find myself lost in the depths of those eyes, drowning in emotions too complex to name.

I swallow hard, my hands lifting to rest against his chest. I can feel the steady thump-thump of his heart beneath my palms, arhythm that becomes my anchor in this sea of uncertainty. Our breaths mingle, a silent conversation in an enigma of feelings we dare not voice.

Abruptly, Viktor's arms tighten around me. In one fluid motion, he sweeps me up. The world tilts, and instinctively, my arms circle his neck. The strength in his arms is unmistakable, cradling me close to his body. I can almost hear his heartbeat now, a powerful drum that vibrates against my ear.

"I’m looking for the kitchen," I start, trying to quench the storm within me. “I’m hungry.”

He responds by picking me up, and my eyes widen in surprise. “Please put me down.”

"Shh," he cuts me off, a gentle command that stills my words. "Just let me."

I yield because my body recognizes this closeness and craves the safety of his embrace. As he carries me, each step is a promise, each breath a shared secret. This is more than physical proximity; it's the dance of two souls inexplicably entwined. At this moment, I realize resistance isn't just futile—it's unwanted.

The cool tiles of the kitchen floor press against my bare feet, grounding me as a wave of queasiness rises in my throat. I lean heavily against the marble countertop, closing my eyes and taking deep breaths, trying to steady the roil in my stomach.

"Scarlett?"

“I’m fine. Just queasy from the movement.”

Viktor's voice is low, threaded with concern. Even without looking, I sense him moving around the spacious kitchen, his presence both commanding and comforting. My hands clutch at the edge of the counter, knuckles white.

"Here." A glass of water appears before me, followed by the scent of fresh lemon. Viktor's hand brushes mine as I take the glass, his touch a silent reassurance.

"Thank you," I whisper, sipping slowly. The coolness helps, but it's the subtle undercurrent of lemon that eases the nausea just enough for the hunger to peek through.

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