"I see you've found a retirement plan, Charlène. It's a shame Leo won't live to see you spend it."
I gasped, the sound catching in my throat as I spun around.
Viktor Morozov was sitting comfortably on my couch, his legs crossed as if he owned the very air I breathed.
Behind him stood four bodyguards, motionless and impeccable—two men and two women in sharp suits, their faces masks of stone.
But my eyes were only for him.
Viktor was a devil dressed in Armani.
He was terrifyingly handsome, with dark, piercing green eyes and hair as black as the ink on my contracts. He was the man who had loomed over my entire life—the one who had taken me in as a teenager after my family died, only to turn me into his most lethal weapon.
My hands began to shake, a primal fear crawling up my spine. This was the man who had raised me, punished me, and used me. I was his puppet, his slave, and his secret.
I was the only woman who didn't disgust him; I was the only one he allowed into his bed, treating my body like another piece of property he had acquired.
To the world, I was a Ghost. To Viktor, I was a toy he had spent years perfecting.
He leaned back, his green eyes raking over me with a cold, possessive hunger that made my skin crawl.
He didn't need to shout to make me tremble. The silence he carried was enough to suffocate.
"You've been a busy girl, Charlène," he murmured, his voice a low, melodic threat. "Stealing diamonds in Paris when you should have been breaking bones in Italy. Did you think you could grow a pair of wings and fly away from me?"
I couldn't find my voice. The "Ghost" who could vanish through any door was gone. In this room, in front of him, I was just the girl he had broken and rebuilt in his own image.
The moment the words left his lips, my legs gave way. I didn't fall; I sank. I didn't have to be told twice. It was a reflex, a rhythm beaten into my blood over a decade of survival. When the Master sat, the property stayed on the floor.
I dropped to my knees.
Memory flared in the back of my mind—a white-hot flash of the last time I'd hesitated. I remembered the weight of his hand, the darkness of the cellar, and the agonizing sting of the needle as he had his initials tattooed into the soft skin of my waist.
He wanted to make sure that every time he fucked me mercilessly, he saw his name claiming the terrain.
V.M. I would never let him find a reason to add another mark.
"Come here," Viktor said softly.
Then, almost fondly, "Doll."
I didn't stand. I knew the rules. I stayed on my knees, crawling toward him across the rug. I stopped when I reached his polished leather shoes, my head bowed, my breath shallow.
Viktor reached down, his fingers cold as they hooked under my jaw. He forced my face up, tilting my head back until I was staring into the emerald abyss of his eyes. He didn't look angry. He looked fascinated, the way a scientist looks at a specimen under a microscope.
"Such beautiful, defiant eyes," he whispered, his thumb grazing the birthmark below my eye—the mark that had just betrayed me to the world. "You went through all that trouble to steal a stone, Charlène. Did you think a diamond could buy back a soul that already belongs to me?"
He leaned closer, the scent of expensive tobacco and cedarwood filling my senses.
"I could kill you for this," he said softly, his grip tightening just enough to make me gasp. "I could let the machines in the next room go silent and watch the light fade from your brother's eyes while you watch. But I think I'll do something much more delicious. I think I'm going to remind you exactly who you breathe for."
He snapped his fingers.
Two of his operatives immediately turned and marched toward the hallway—toward Leo.
"No!" I screamed.
Forgetting the rules, forgetting the weight of his hand on my jaw, I scrambled to my feet. I didn't get two steps.
Viktor's hand moved in a blur. CRACK.
The slap sent me spinning. My vision went white, the metallic taste of blood filling my mouth as I hit the hardwood floor. Before I could even draw a breath, Viktor was on me. He didn't use his hand; he reached down and fist-fisted his fingers into my hair, yanking my head back until I felt like my scalp was going to rip clean off.
"Tsk, tsk," he hissed, looming over me, his face inches from mine. "Look what you made me do, doll. You're making me ruin such a pretty face."
I let out a broken whimper, my hands clutching at his wrist to stay the pain.
"You disobeyed me," he whispered, his green eyes flashing with a sadistic light. "And now, Leo will have to pay the price. He's coming with me to my estate. He'll be a guest in my lab, under my doctors. If you fail me again, they won't even need to turn off the machines—they'll just let him scream until his heart stops."
"Please," I sobbed, my voice a ragged plea. "Viktor, please... don't take him. I'll do anything. Please!"
"Oh, I know you will." His gaze dropped to my chest, crawling over my body with a hunger that felt like a coat of slime. "It's been far too long since I had you in my bed, little Pet. It's been a while since I reminded you why you were made."
He yanked my hair harder, forcing me to my feet as he stood. He was a titan, a Don of Russia who breathed power.
"And don't think I didn't see you at the ball, my sweet Shadow-Bird," he murmured, his voice turning deadly. "You danced with him. You let a De Rossi lay his hands on my property. You let Lucien touch what belongs only to me."
So the man I danced with was Lucien?
"I give you forty-eight hours," he growled, pinning me against the wall, his body a crushing weight against mine. "If I don't have Lucien De Rossi's head by the second sunrise, I'll send you Leo's heart in a box. But before you go back to finish the job..."
He leaned into my ear, his breath hot and terrifying.
"You're going to spend tonight reminding me why I haven't killed you yet. Get to the bedroom, Pet. Now."