Chapter 121 Splinter
Content Warning: This chapter contains scenes of intense physical struggle, unwanted sexual advances, and emotional distress. Reader discretion is advised.
❄︎ Viktor ❄︎
I twirled a glass of apple juice, trying to get an upper hand on this obsession.
I’d been watching the live feed of Rosa on the tablet like a manic before I finally set it facedown.
I'd watched her dance barefoot in the living room, her long dark hair streaking over her back and shoulders like pure silk.
And when she disappeared into the kitchen, then her bedroom, and everywhere else that I hadn’t been able to follow, I missed her.
Missed her so much I wished I’d put cameras in her room and bathroom too.
I didn’t give a fuck. She was my wife.
If I wanted to watch the crystal-like drops of water run down her smooth skin, I would.
The thought made me breathe harder, blood going south.
I shook my head and walked away from the tablet, trying to gather myself.
I had no idea why I hadn’t gone to her yet like Adrian advised.
Maybe because I wasn’t ready to see that look in her eyes again.
The one that told me I’d pushed her too far.
I shoved the juice aside and went to the bar for vodka instead. The burn grounded me.
The truth was simple really. I just wasn’t ready to accept rejection if I went there.
Not after keeping what I did from her… and telling her in the cruelest way possible.
I didn’t know why she’d changed her mind and decided to buy the hotel back. But now that she’d sold it, she had nothing tethering her to me anymore.
No excuses. No reason to stay.
And if I had any sense, I’d let her go for her own good.
But again… fuck that.
She was mine.
And I wasn’t about to let her pretend she could live without me breathing over her fucking shoulder.
I slammed my fist into the wall beside me.
Pain shot up my arm and into my chest, a white-hot pulse that made me breathe easier and pulled me back from whatever hell I was spiraling into.
Her face flashed in my mind once again. Her wistful and lonely expression as she sat on that gaudy yellow sofa in her living room, staring out at the late-afternoon light.
The yellow sofa and all other eccentric things in the Marlow house made it feel like a home.
Her home.
And just like that, I suddenly needed to see her again, the urge growing like an itch under my skin.
I slammed the vodka bottle down on the counter and turned back to the table, my hands shaking like an addict as I reached for the tablet.
I just wanted to see her. Just once.
Then I’d let her be, for now.
My heart hammered as I flipped it over…
The sofa was empty.
❦ ❄︎ ❦ ❄︎ ❦ ❄︎ ❦ ❄︎ ❦
❦ Rosalind ❦
I laughed harshly while Orlov stared at me like I’d lost my mind, but I used the motion to slide closer to the sofa where my phone lay.
Just a few more inches and I could reach it.
“You truly are an audacious piece of shit,” I said, still laughing under my breath. “Did you really think you could come here, insult me, and somehow I’d feel differently toward you? Your manipulation tactics are old, Orlov. They won’t work.”
When he didn’t answer, I went on.
“Don’t bother trying to fix whatever the fuck we had. I sold the Grand Marlow Hotel. So whatever scheme you came here with, you can shove it. There’s nothing left for you to gain.”
The words burned as I said them. Without the hotel, without the house I was planning to sell. I felt naked. Worthless.
But he didn’t need to know that.
His blank gaze burned through me, and I became acutely aware of my sweat.
My hands were clammy. My heartbeat was too loud.
Keep him talking, I told myself. Keep him talking and you’ll have time to grab your phone and run.
He started circling the sofa slowly, still far enough to not touch me but close enough that I could feel the heat of him in the room.
“You’re not listening,” he said finally. “I want you. I don’t care if we don’t love each other. We worked before, Rosa. We can again.”
My stomach twisted.
He really was insane.
He paused, scratching his jaw. “I know you sold the hotel. It was a stupid decision really, but that was my father’s concern, not mine. He even bid for it… but some assholes came in with almost a billion. We don’t have a billion.”
He chuckled awkwardly.
I flinched as he took a step forward, every nerve in my body screaming danger.
“But it doesn’t matter,” he said. “You’re the one I want. Nothing else.”
Then he sat down on the opposite sofa and leaned back, spreading his knees in that arrogant, suggestive way of his.
“Come here,” he said softly.
The way he said it made my skin crawl.
I shifted my weight, changing my plan.
I couldn’t reach the phone, not with him blocking the way, but I could get to the drawer.
There was a gun inside.
“Go to hell,” I snarled.
Orlov sighed, he dragged a hand over his face in frustration, pinching the bridge of his nose.
And that’s when I moved.
I dove for the drawer.
I hit the ground hard with my knees, but I didn’t care. I lunged for the drawer, my fingers brushing the handle.
So close. So damn close…
But a fast, sudden blur in my peripheral flashed.
Orlov’s hand clamped around my ankle.
“No…!”
He yanked me back with brutal force, my skin tearing against the floor as I screamed.
The sound reverberated in the house and was swallowed by the walls and distance.
The guards at the gate wouldn’t hear.
No one would.
“Come here,” Orlov growled, dragging me up.
His grip was iron-tight. He spun me around and pressed me to his body… his front flush against my back, his breath hot on my neck.
I could feel every tremor in his body, every wild, useless beat of my heart.
Tears blurred my vision, running down my face.
He inhaled against my skin. “You always loved struggling,” he murmured, his voice slurred and feral. “But in the end, you always let me have my way.”
I let out a growl of fear, disgust and fury.
Before I could overthink, I raised my heel and slammed it down on his foot.
He grunted but didn’t release me.
“You’ll divorce Viktor,” he hissed in my ear. “And you’ll come with me. Or I’ll kill the people you love.”
My blood froze. Aunt Carina. Juliana.
“Don’t you dare,” I spat, twisting in his grip.
He only chuckled, his hand rising to palm my breast crudely.
I slammed the back of my head into his nose. The crunch was sharp and satisfying.
He cursed and stumbled backward, blood already running down his face.
“Don’t you fucking touch me,” I snarled.
“Stupida stronza, ti insegno una lezione che non scorderai più,” (Stupid bitch, I’ll teach you a lesson you’ll never forget). He growled between his teeth.
I wrenched open the drawer and grabbed the gun, my hand shaking. I pointed it straight at his chest and pulled the trigger.
It made a loud click.
But there was no bang.
No bullet.
Just a dry, empty click echoing between us.
The smell of gunpowder without the lethal bit floated in the air.
No. No. Please no.
For a heartbeat, neither of us moved. Then Orlov laughed.
A slow, ugly laugh that crawled under my skin.
I went cold.
“Rosa… Rosa…” he said mockingly.
I kicked at him wildly, but he came at me like a wall covering all light. His hand slammed around my throat and pushed me down, the floor biting into my spine.
I screamed. Loud, shrill, useless.
He pinned me, spreading my legs with his knee. His face was a blur of sweat and blood.
His hand crushed my jaw, forcing my head still as he bent down…
My heart hammered so hard it hurt.
My lungs burned from screaming.
I was terrified—so fucking terrified I thought I might black out. I clawed at him, but he caught my wrists, trapping them, holding me there.
I shut my eyes tightly and braced myself for the disgusting press of his mouth…
But then…
A loud crack. A shuffle.
And his weight was gone.