Chapter 127 MY LADY.
\~~~ALESSIA.
I lay there in the dim light of my bedroom, my body still humming from what Viktor and I had just shared. For the first time in my life, I felt light, and like a weight had lifted off my chest that I'd carried for years.
Joy bubbled up inside me, warm and unexpected, making my skin tingle in a good way. No shame, no dirtiness clinging to me afterward. Just peace.
Viktor had done that without even trying at first. His presence alone had started to chip away at the walls my stepfather built around me, making me dread every man's touch like it was poison.
But Viktor? He was different. Gentle in his strength, real in his care.
And now, after the best sex I'd ever known, raw and connecting, I felt whole.
He held me tight against his chest, our naked bodies tangled in the sheets. His arms wrapped around me like a shield, his heartbeat steady under my ear. I ran my fingers gently through his dark hair, feeling the soft strands slip between them. It was such a simple thing, but it grounded me, pulling me deeper into this moment. No rush, no fear. Just us.
After a while, he groaned low in his throat, the sound vibrating through his body. “You must be hungry,” he said, his voice rough from our earlier passion.
I smiled, tracing a lazy circle on his shoulder. “You bet I am.”
He chuckled softly, then slowly disentangled himself from me. His warmth left a cool spot on the bed, but before he pulled away completely, he leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to my lips. It lingered, sweet and reassuring, before he stood up.
I propped myself on one elbow, watching him move. God, he was something to look at. Tall and broad, his muscles defined from years of hard work and fights. His abs flexed as he stretched, a trail of dark hair leading down from his navel to... well, everything else that had just made me lose my mind.
But then my eyes caught the bandage on his side, the one from the fight. A spot of red was seeping through, fresh blood peeking out like a warning.
“What were we thinking?” I chuckled, pointing at the wound. My voice came out lighter than I felt, masking the quick twist of worry in my gut.
He glanced down, then back at me with a small smile playing on his lips. “It is worth it, my lady,” His eyes held mine, warm and unregretful, like the pain was nothing compared to what we'd shared.
I sat up a bit more, pulling the sheet around my waist. “Would you like me to cook for you?’' he asked, already turning toward the door.
I raised an eyebrow, teasing him as I crossed my legs together under the covers. “You, Viktor Reznov, can cook?”
He paused, that smile widening into a grin. “I am taking that as a challenge, my lady.”
“Let's have it,” I giggled, the sound feeling foreign and free in my throat. It had been so long since I'd laughed like that, without shadows creeping in.
He shook his head, amused, then vanished into the bathroom. The door clicked shut, and suddenly the room felt too quiet.
I leaned back against the pillows, staring at the ceiling. My mind wandered, drifting to places I usually kept locked away.
And there he was, my stepfather, slipping into my thoughts like smoke.
His words echoed, sharp as knives.
‘I’d scar you till no man will be able to look at you.' I remembered the sneer on his face that day, his breath hot and foul as he loomed over me.
I'd been young, terrified, and cornered in the corner of our old house. He always found ways to twist the knife, to make me feel small and worthless.
I closed my eyes, trying to push it away, but more came. 'I'd taint you, so every man will see how unclean you are at the first glance.' His hands had fumbled with his belt, the leather creaking like a threat. I'd frozen with my heart pounding, hating how my body betrayed me with fear instead of fight.
And then the worst, 'I will make you feel like garbage in an already unclean world. No man will ever look you in the eye without seeing how broken and damaged you are. I will make sure of that.'
That was the breaking point. The day the rage inside me snapped. I'd grabbed the knife from the table, but it became my salvation. His eyes widened in surprise as I lunged, the blade sinking in before he could react.
Blood was everywhere in an instant, and his body slumped to the floor. I'd stood there shaking, finally free, but scarred in ways no one could see.
A gasp escaped me, my chest tightening. The room spun for a second, the past blurring with the present.
Then a hand touched my shoulder gently, firmly. I jerked, my eyes flying open.
“It's just me,” Viktor's voice cut through the fog, low and steady. He sat on the edge of the bed, concern etched across his face, his hair still damp from whatever he'd done in the bathroom. “It is just me. It's me, Viktor.”
He pulled me into his arms without waiting, hugging me tight. I shivered against him, the tremors running through my body like aftershocks. His hold was strong but not crushing, a safe harbor in the storm of my memories.
“He is gone, okay?” Viktor murmured into my hair, his breath warm on my skin. “It is all in your head. Everything. I am here, and that is all that matters.”
I buried my face in his neck, inhaling his clean scent of soap and a hint of sweat from before.
He could see through me, read the cracks in my armor like they were written on my skin.
It shouldn't surprise me.
Viktor had been there that day, all those years ago. He'd shown up at the house unexpectedly, running some errands for Luciano, and walked into the chaos. My stepfather's body on the floor, me covered in blood, shaking like a leaf. Viktor hadn't flinched. He'd hidden me in the back room as Luciano had ordered, and shielded me from the mess, while Luciano took the blame.
They covered it up, protected me.
But Viktor... he'd seen the real me, broken and fighting back, and he'd never looked at me with pity or disgust. Only understanding.
Maybe that’s why I had wanted to be away from him at all cost.
Tears pricked my eyes, but they weren't from pain this time. Relief, maybe. Or gratitude.
“How do you always know?” I whispered, my voice muffled against his shoulder.
He pulled back just enough to look at me, his thumb brushing a tear from my cheek. “Because I've been watching over you longer than you think, Alessia. That day... I saw your strength. Not the fear. And tonight? You showed me your heart.” His eyes softened, tracing my face. “You're not damaged. You're a survivor. Beautiful, inside and out.”
I leaned into his touch, the words sinking in like balm on old wounds. For so long, I'd carried that hate, that dread of intimacy, convinced every man would see the 'unclean' my stepfather promised. Touches felt like violations, sex like a trap.
But Viktor had unraveled it all, layer by layer. Even before we crossed that line, his quiet presence, his respect, and his patience had made me feel seen, not judged.
And now, after we'd given in to the yearning, after his body moved with mine in that perfect rhythm, I felt clean. Desired. Loved, even if we hadn't said the word yet.
He kissed my forehead, then my lips, soft and lingering. “Come on. Let me feed you. Can't have my lady going hungry after... everything.”
I managed a small laugh, wiping my eyes. “Okay. But if your cooking is bad, I'm holding it against you forever.”
“Deal,” He stood again, offering his hand. I took it, letting him pull me up.