Chapter 27: Chapter Twenty Seven.
Throughout the flight, Xena remained asleep, oblivious to the chaos brewing around her.
Her face was serene, her lips slightly parted, and her chest rose and fell in a soft, steady rhythm. Across from her, Viktor sat engrossed in his work, his sharp eyes darting between documents and his laptop.
Yet, every so often, his gaze would drift toward her, his expression unreadable.
When the pilot announced the plane's descent, advising everyone to fasten their seatbelts, Viktor looked over at Xena. She hadn’t stirred, her exhaustion evident.
He studied her for a moment, noting the faint lines of worry etched into her otherwise peaceful face.
As the jet touched down, Viktor unbuckled his seatbelt and stood.
He glanced at her again, realizing she wouldn’t be waking up on her own anytime soon.
Instead of disturbing her, he leaned down and effortlessly scooped her into his arms, cradling her against his chest like a bride.
“The flight must have exhausted her,” he murmured, his voice soft and almost affectionate as he gazed at her sleeping face.
Carrying her securely, he stepped out of the plane. The cold Russian night air greeted them immediately, its icy breeze biting against their skin.
Viktor inhaled deeply, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.
“Back in my territory,” he said, his voice filled with pride and possessiveness.
The convoy of sleek black cars waited at the bottom of the stairs, engines idling, their drivers standing by. As Viktor descended the steps, the soft sound of his polished shoes echoed in the still night.
One of the men stepped out from the lead car, his grin wide and casual.
“Damn, man! Finally, good to—” He froze mid-sentence as his eyes fell on Viktor.
The grin vanished, replaced by confusion as the man’s gaze shifted to the figure in Viktor’s arms. He squinted, moving closer for a better look.
“Wait… is that—are you carrying a woman?” he stammered, incredulous.
Viktor’s cold glare cut through the night like a blade. “Don’t you fucking dare say another word,” he growled, his voice low but laced with menace. “If she wakes up, I’ll kill you.”
The man raised his hands in mock surrender, stepping back cautiously. “Alright, alright. Chill, man. I’m just surprised, is all.”
Still, his curious eyes lingered on Xena, her delicate frame nestled in Viktor’s arms.
“Stop staring at her.” Viktor said in a dangerously quiet tone, his jaw tightening.
Startled, the man stepped back even further, but not before Viktor’s grip on Xena momentarily tightened, causing her to stir.
She let out a faint groan, her head shifting against his chest. Instantly, Viktor’s demeanor changed. His grip loosened, and he adjusted her carefully, ensuring her comfort.
The man watching them blinked in disbelief. “Did you all see that?” he asked, turning to the other men gathered nearby.
The group of Viktor’s loyal men remained silent, their faces impassive. They had long learned not to question their boss’s actions.
“When did Viktor start carrying women?” the man muttered, half to himself, running a hand through his hair. “This is insane.”
Without another word, Viktor strode toward one of the limousines. His driver quickly opened the door, and Viktor ducked inside, placing Xena gently on the leather seat beside him.
She shifted slightly but didn’t wake. Satisfied, Viktor leaned back, his expression a mix of possessiveness and satisfaction.
The driver shut the door and climbed into the front seat, steering the limousine away from the runway.
The convoy followed, their headlights cutting through the dark.
The man who had spoken earlier shook his head, still baffled.
“This dude has a lot of explaining to do.” he muttered, climbing into his Ferrari and revving the engine. He sped off after the convoy, his mind racing with questions he didn’t dare voice.
Inside the limousine, Viktor watched Xena as she slept, his fingers brushing a stray strand of hair from her face. She was in his world now, under his control, and he intended to keep it that way—no matter what it took.
◇◇◇
The convoy of sleek black cars moved in unison, the sound of their engines echoing in the crisp Russian night.
The mansion loomed ahead, its grand façade illuminated by strategically placed lights, a beacon of wealth and power.
The limousine came to a halt at the base of a short flight of marble steps leading to the grand entrance.
One of Viktor’s men hurried forward, pulling the car door open with precision. Viktor stepped out gracefully, Xena still cradled protectively in his arms.
Her head rested lightly against his chest, her breathing steady as she remained fast asleep.
With an air of command, Viktor ascended the steps, his polished shoes clicking softly against the marble.
Two of his men pushed open the large double doors, revealing a magnificent interior—a blend of modern luxury and timeless elegance.
High ceilings adorned with chandeliers cast a warm glow over the grand space, and marble floors reflected the opulence of the surroundings.
As he entered the main hall, the household staff immediately lined up in neat rows on either side of the entrance.
Maids in crisp uniforms and guards in dark suits stood silently, bowing in unison to acknowledge their master’s arrival.
Their faces were neutral, trained to remain unreadable, but a few couldn’t help but let their eyes wander to the mysterious figure Viktor carried.
Xena’s delicate frame was impossible to ignore, and whispers began to ripple quietly among the maids once Viktor’s back was turned.
“Who is she?” one of the younger maids whispered, her voice barely audible.
“I don’t know, but did you see how he’s holding her?” another replied, her eyes wide. “The Don never carries anyone, let alone a woman.”
“Shhh!” an older maid hissed. “Do you want to lose your job—or worse?”
Meanwhile, Viktor’s sharp gaze remained fixed ahead as he ascended the grand staircase, paying no mind to the murmurs around him.
His long strides carried him effortlessly across the polished floors, and he disappeared into the corridor above, leaving the staff to exchange baffled glances.
Reaching the second floor, Viktor moved toward a set of double doors at the far end of the hallway.
He pushed them open with ease, revealing a lavishly decorated bedroom. The room was spacious, with floor-to-ceiling windows draped in heavy velvet curtains.
A large bed sat in the center, its plush bedding a contrast to the cold demeanor Viktor usually exuded.
Carefully, he walked over and laid Xena down on the bed, her head sinking into the soft pillows.
For a moment, he stood there, his dark eyes scanning her peaceful face. Her innocence, her vulnerability—it stirred something deep within him, something he couldn’t quite name.
He reached out, brushing a stray strand of hair away from her face. His touch was surprisingly gentle, at odds with the hardened man the world knew him to be.
A small frown formed on his lips as he stepped back, his hands curling into fists at his sides.
“She’s mine.” he muttered under his breath, his voice low and possessive. “No one will touch her.”
As he turned to leave the room, he spotted one of his most trusted guards standing at the doorway, awaiting instructions.
“Post two guards outside this room,” Viktor commanded, his tone sharp. “No one enters without my permission.”
“Yes, sir.” the guard replied with a quick nod before moving to carry out the order.
With one last glance at Xena, Viktor pulled the door shut behind him, leaving her to rest.
Downstairs, the staff was still abuzz with speculation.
“Did you see that?” one of the younger maids whispered excitedly to another. “He carried her like she was the most precious thing in the world!”
“Who do you think she is?”
“Maybe his girlfriend?”
“Girlfriend?” The older maid scoffed, shaking her head. “The Don doesn’t do relationships. She’s probably someone important, though. Did you see how protective he looked?”
The guards exchanged knowing looks but remained silent, their loyalty to Viktor unshakable.
As the whispers continued, Viktor strode through the halls, his mind consumed with thoughts of the woman sleeping upstairs.
She was in his world now, and he would do whatever it took to keep her there—whether she liked it or not.