Chapter 48: Chapter Fourty Eight.

Xena sat curled up in the large, leather armchair of the mansion’s study, her knees tucked under her as she tried to lose herself in the pages of her book.

The fire crackled softly in the hearth, casting flickering shadows across the dark wood-paneled walls and shelves lined with ancient, dust-covered books.

The warmth from the flames created a cocoon of comfort around her, easing the lingering frustration that buzzed in the back of her mind.

This room had become her escape—a place Viktor rarely intruded upon, or so she hoped.

Here, surrounded by the scent of old paper and faint traces of cedarwood, she could pretend for a while that her life wasn’t a tangled mess of possessiveness, jealousy, and the confusing pull Viktor had over her. 

But that illusion didn’t last.

The door creaked open, the sound slicing through the quiet like a blade. Xena didn’t need to look up. She felt him before she saw him—his presence was like a shift in the air, thick and charged, impossible to ignore.

She kept her eyes glued to the pages, pretending she didn’t notice, pretending she didn’t care. 

Viktor stood in the doorway, his broad frame casting a long shadow into the room. His sharp eyes locked onto her, his jaw clenched as he watched her blatantly ignore him. He took a deep breath, as if trying to reel in his temper.

“It’s late, Xena. You need to rest.” he said, his deep voice cutting through the silence, soft yet firm.

Xena didn’t even flinch. She flipped another page, her expression calm, though her grip on the book tightened slightly.

She could feel his frustration simmering from across the room, and part of her enjoyed it.

He deserved to feel ignored, dismissed—just like he had dismissed her feelings when he fired Travis without a second thought.

Viktor’s patience snapped.

With long, purposeful strides, he crossed the room, his footsteps echoing off the polished floors. Before Xena could react, he reached down and grabbed her wrist, yanking her to her feet with startling ease.

She gasped, the book slipping from her hands and landing with a soft thud on the rug. She glared up at him, her heart racing, not out of fear but defiance.

“Let go of me.” she spat, trying to pull her wrist free from his iron grip.

But Viktor only smirked, a dark, dangerous glint flashing in his eyes.

His other hand shot up, capturing her chin between his fingers, tilting her face upward until she was forced to meet his gaze. His thumb pressed just enough to form a slight pout on her lips, his touch both gentle and commanding. 

His piercing blue eyes bore into hers, filled with something wild and possessive, a storm barely contained. His face was so close that she could feel the warmth of his breath against her skin. 

“If you don’t stop acting stubborn.” he murmured, his voice low and thick with warning, “I have other ways to tame you.”

A shiver raced down Xena’s spine, her heart thudding violently against her ribs.

His words hung in the air, laced with both a threat and a promise. She hated the way her body betrayed her, reacting to his closeness even when her mind screamed to push him away.

Her glare didn’t waver.

“I’m not some wild animal you can *tame,* Viktor.” she snapped, her voice sharp despite the breathlessness she felt. “And I’m certainly not yours to control.”

Viktor’s smirk faded slightly, his jaw tensing. His grip on her wrist softened just a fraction, but he didn’t let go.

His thumb brushed over her lower lip absently, his gaze darkening with something more dangerous—something raw and unfiltered.

“You’re wrong.” he whispered, his voice husky. “You’ve been mine from the moment I laid eyes on you. You just haven’t accepted it yet.”

Xena’s chest rose and fell rapidly, her heart tangled in a mess of fury and something she refused to name.

She yanked her wrist free with all her strength, stepping back to put space between them.

“Get over yourself.” she hissed, her voice trembling more from the storm raging inside her than fear. “You don’t own me. You never will.”

Viktor’s eyes narrowed slightly, but he didn’t advance. He just stood there, watching her with an intensity that made her skin feel too tight.

For a moment, the room was filled with nothing but the sound of their ragged breathing and the faint crackle of the fire.

Then, without another word, Xena turned on her heel, grabbed her book from the floor, and stormed out of the study, slamming the door behind her.

Viktor remained where he was, his fists clenched at his sides, his jaw ticking with restrained frustration.

But behind the frustration, there was something else—something darker, something undeniable.

She could push him away as much as she wanted.

But in Viktor’s mind, she was already his. And he’d make sure she realized it—one way or another.

♧♧♧

Xena stepped out of the bathroom, a soft towel wrapped around her damp body, her skin still glistening with beads of water. She was gently patting her face dry when she gasped, startled to see two familiar figures standing silently near the vanity.

“Oh goodness! The both of you scared me.” Xena exclaimed, pressing a hand to her chest as her heartbeat raced from the sudden fright.

Zoya and Alina giggled softly, exchanging amused glances.

“Sorry, Xena.” Alina said with a warm smile, her light brown hair pulled back into a neat braid that contrasted with her youthful, delicate face.

Xena exhaled deeply, her lips curving into a small smile, amused by her own overreaction.

“We were told to get you ready. Don is waiting at the dining table.” Zoya added, her voice calm, yet there was always a quiet seriousness in her demeanor that Xena couldn’t ignore. Alina stood beside her, nodding in agreement.

Xena frowned slightly, feeling an unnecessary formality in their presence.

“You guys know I don’t need help to get ready. I can do that myself.” she replied, trying not to sound dismissive. She liked both girls—they were kind, but the idea of needing someone to dress her felt… odd.

Alina nodded quickly, her smile not faltering. “Yes, we know. But we’re just here to assist if you need anything.”

Xena studied them for a moment, their faces soft with sincerity, and she sighed, relenting. “Alright then,” she said with a shrug and walked over to the dresser to start applying lotion to her damp skin.

As she rubbed the cream into her arms, her curiosity tugged at her, a question forming in the back of her mind that she couldn’t shake off.

“How long have you two been working for him?” she asked suddenly, glancing at them through the mirror.

Alina perked up, her fingers pausing as she folded a fresh towel. “I’ve been here for three years. I met Zoya when I started.” she replied.

Xena’s brows knit together slightly. They both looked so young, not much older than her, maybe around twenty-three—the same age she was. She found herself wondering what circumstances led them here, working for Viktor of all people, in the heart of his dark empire.

“If… if you don’t mind me asking.” Xena began hesitantly, applying lotion to her legs, “why take a job like this? I mean, working here must be dangerous. You both know who Viktor is, right? How dangerous he can be?”

Her words hung in the air, the warmth from the fireplace suddenly feeling a little less comforting. Alina and Zoya exchanged a glance, their faces dimming slightly as if the question had poked at something tender beneath the surface.

Zoya let out a small sigh, walking over to the closet to pick out an outfit for Xena. Her silence lingered, heavy with thoughts unspoken.

Alina’s gentle voice broke the tension. “Xena… is that how you see Sir? As just a dangerous man?”

Her question caught Xena off guard. She turned to face them, towel still clutched loosely around her. “Yes.” Xena admitted honestly. “I mean, he *is* the mafia Don here. He has all the traits—cold, controlling, and intimidating. It’s hard not to see him that way.”

Zoya emerged from the closet, her arms draped with carefully selected clothes, but she didn’t speak immediately. Instead, she laid the outfit neatly on the couch, smoothing out the fabric thoughtfully.

“That’s not how we see him.” Zoya finally murmured, her back still turned.

Xena frowned, curiosity flaring even more. “What do you mean by that?”

Alina took a slow breath, her gaze softening. “Xena… you don’t have to believe me, but Sir saved me,” she confessed quietly, her eyes dropping to the floor as if the memory weighed heavily on her.

Xena’s heart skipped a beat. *Saved her?* That was not the narrative she’d built in her mind about Viktor—the cold, possessive man who seemed to control everything around him with an iron fist.

“What do you mean, ‘saved’?” Xena pressed, her voice quieter this time, touched with genuine interest.

Before Alina could respond, a sharp knock interrupted the conversation. The door creaked open, and Svetlana stepped in, her posture as crisp and formal as always.

“Ma’am,” she said politely but firmly, “Sir is running out of patience. He requires your presence at the dining table.”

Xena gave a small nod, her mind still spinning with Alina’s words. As Svetlana left, Zoya stepped forward, gently holding the chosen outfit—a simple yet elegant dress.

“We should get you ready.” Zoya said softly.

As they helped her dress, Xena remained unusually quiet, her thoughts tangled. Viktor wasn’t just a ruthless mafia Don to these girls—he was something else, something more complex.

The idea unsettled her, not because she didn’t believe it, but because part of her had already started to sense it herself.

And that realization was even more dangerous than Viktor’s world.