Page 16 of Crimson Sin
Viktor's smile widens as he steps close enough to invade my personal space. Behind him, his bodyguard's eyes sweep the room methodically, professionally distant but clearly protective.
“And where did you two meet again?” Viktor tilts his head toward me, his steel-blue eyes dancing with mischief. “Do tell.”
I glance at Daniil, but he doesn't answer. So, I do.
“At a restaurant in the city,” I reply. “We struck up a conversation. Things escalated.”
“So quickly?” Viktor's voice drops to a purr as he leans in. “My cousin has always been...efficient. But even for him, marriage after what? A few weeks? Seems rather impulsive.”
There's something in his tone, a mix of skepticism and amusement, that makes me defensive. As if he's testing our story and looking for cracks in our performance. But there's also something else. The way his eyes linger on my lips when he speaks, and the way he positions himself so that Daniil can't see how close he's standing.
“Some things don't need time to be real,” I respond curtly.
Viktor chuckles, but there's no humor in it. “How romantic.” He reaches out, his fingers brushing against my wrist as he pretends to examine my bracelet. “Beautiful piece. Daniil always did have exquisite taste in... acquisitions.”
The touch is brief, barely a hint of contact, but it sends alarm bells through my mind. He's testing boundaries to see how far he can push before I react. His bodyguard notices the interaction, his posture adjusting slightly as he prepares to intervene, if necessary. However, I can't tell whether it's to protect Viktor or to control the situation.
“Thank you,” I manage, pulling my wrist back.
“You know,” Viktor continues, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, “I'd love to hear more about your work. Art history, isn't it? There's something so passionate about a woman who appreciates beauty.” His eyes rake over me slowly. “Perhaps we could discuss it over dinner sometime. I know some galleries that would fascinate you.”
The invitation is delivered with perfect politeness, but underneath lurks something predatory. He's propositioning meright in front of Daniil, wrapped in the veneer of professional interest.
“I'm sure my husband would love to join us,” I reply pointedly.
Viktor's smile doesn't waver. “Of course. Though I imagine he's quite busy with his business ventures. Surely, he wouldn't mind if family kept his beautiful wife entertained.”
I feel Daniil's tension ratchet up beside me, though his expression remains even. The word “entertained” lingers like a challenge.
“I appreciate the offer,” I answer carefully, “but I prefer to keep my entertainment close to home.”
“Ah, but variety is the spice of life, don't you think?” Viktor's hand moves to the small of my back, ostensibly to guide me toward the window, but the touch is far too intimate for casual conversation. “And you strike me as someone who appreciates a bit of spice.”
Daniil steps forward, his movement subtle but unmistakable, placing himself squarely between us. His hand doesn't touch Viktor, but the sheer proximity is a warning. His voice, when it comes, is low and dangerously composed. “You always did have a taste for testing boundaries, cousin,” he says, every syllable steady, like the slow tightening of a noose. “But I’d hate for you to confuse hospitality with invitation.”
He turns slightly, his eyes never leaving Viktor’s, calm as a still lake hiding the pull of an undertow. “My wife doesn’t require your guidance. And if she ever did, rest assured I’ll be the one to provide it.” A smile touches his lips, devoid of warmth. “Family or not, next time you touch what’s mine, you’ll find out exactly how busy I can be.”
Viktor chuckles, low and smooth, as if Daniil’s warning were nothing more than an inside joke between old friends. He lifts his hands in mock surrender, the corners of his mouth curving with smug amusement. “Relax, cousin,” he replies calmly. “Just making conversation. No harm in appreciating a beautiful woman, especially one with such refined tastes.”
His gaze slides to me, pausing a heartbeat too long before returning to Daniil. “You know me. Always a fan of the finer things in life.” He straightens his cufflink, his smile never faltering. “But don’t worry. I wouldn’t dream of stepping where I’m not wanted.”
Daniil doesn't respond, but the silence between them hums with malice. Viktor's bodyguard watches the exchange with professional interest, his loyalty clearly to Viktor, but his assessment extends to everyone in the vicinity.
Viktor finally walks away, his bodyguard following at a discreet distance, leaving behind the chill of his attention and the unwelcome sting of his smirk.
I let out a breath I hadn't realized I was holding. “What was that?” I murmur.
“That,” Daniil replies, “was Viktor Zorin being Viktor Zorin.”
“He's... unsettling,” I note.
“He's calculated,” Daniil murmurs softly. “He likes to see where the cracks form.”
“And you trust him?”
“Not even a little.”
The admission surprises me. If Viktor is family, and he's part of Daniil's inner circle, why would he be so openly suspicious of him? What history exists between them that creates such palpable tension?
