Chapter 125 Head on a Spike
❦ Rosalind ❦
I stared at the woman in the doorway and for a second my brain just stalled.
Dahlia Renly.
Of all people. Dahlia, my ex-bestfriend from university who’d slept with Orlov, dated him, then pathetically kept chasing him, was standing there with Viktor’s gun aimed at her frontal lobe.
“Wait,” I called loudly.
I padded down the stairs in my thin silk nightdress, my heart beating so hard I could feel it in my throat.
Viktor kept the muzzle trained on her, then he lowered it slowly like he didn’t really want to.
Dahlia’s frozen shock broke. She slapped a hand to her chest, sucking a breath that sounded like someone surfacing from a deep dive.
I planted myself beside Viktor, crossed my arms, and gave her my resting bitch face.
“What the hell are you doing here?” I asked coldly.
Dahlia straightened herself, she looked from Viktor to me and back again.
Then she smiled in a way that didn’t reach her eyes and said, “I came to look for Orlov.”
The air stilled. The house quieted behind us save for the hum of appliances.
I couldn’t help the snort that escaped me.
“Why the fuck would you think he’d be here?” I snapped. “Of all places?”
She faltered for a second, then she squared her shoulders.
“We were together yesterday,” she said. “Then he got drunk and said he was coming to find you. To smooth things out. I tried to stop him, but he was dead set. So is he here or not?”
Drunk? More like high out of his mind. But I didn’t say that. I didn’t want her knowing I’d seen him at all. Considering his ghost was probably still within my walls.
I spotted a bruise near her eye that the makeup didn’t cover. This dumb bitch.
I pointed at it.
“If you have any self-preservation left,” I told her flatly, “get out of this. Stop chasing a man who doesn’t even like you. He’ll ruin you.”
Dahlia’s face went hard as she spat back,
“You don’t know anything, Rosa. You think love is a bed of roses. You think you’re better than everyone else who actually has to work for things. You’ll learn.”
She glanced at Viktor, then at me. The implication was clear as day.
Viktor took a menacing step forward. Dahlia took a reflexive step back.
“Orlov wasn’t here,” I said, summoning anger amidst my sudden exhaustion. “And if he ever shows up on my doorstep, I’ll put a bullet in his head myself. Tell him that. And that goes for you too.”
Viktor shut the door with a hard slam that made the frame rattle.
Suddenly, my knees went weak. I sank into him, clinging to his arm.
I looked up, incredulous, to see that he was smiling. “Why the hell are you smiling?”
“Don’t let it bother you. He’s gone. And no one will come for him, his own father is too busy covering his own ass to do anything about it.“
He brushed a hand over his chin as if in thought.
“And the only reason I didn’t mount his head on the gate, is because I need to catch his father without tipping him off.”
I blinked. “That’s—morbid.”
He smirked in a razor sharp way that made my spine go crisp.
“I know.” He said. “No one will ever hurt you on my watch, Tesoro.”
He took my hand and pressed a soft kiss to the inside of my palm.
Melted inside, I shook off Dahlia’s unwanted presence and Viktor's bloodlust, following him like a lost puppy to the kitchen.
He lifted me up like I weighed nothing and set me on the marble counter. The surface was cool against my thighs, a strange contrast to the warmth still thrumming through me.
He moved around with effortless efficiency, his sleeves rolled up. I watched as he opened the fridge and started pulling things out, eggs, pancetta, a small block of pecorino, a handful of spice.
The man looked like he belonged in a war room, not a kitchen, and yet here he was, whisking eggs and heating olive oil like he’d done it a thousand times before.
When the smell hit me… rich and savory and comforting, my stomach growled loud enough for him to hear, but he didn’t comment.
He turned and gave me that half-smile that warmed my chest, before turning back to the stove.
I should’ve been thinking about the delicious food, but my mind kept slipping back to Dahlia.
Her face at the door, the black eye, the way she’d looked at Viktor, at me, with palpable envy and ill will.
Looking for Orlov, she said. God, the man’s barely cold in the ground and she’s still chasing his ghost. Either she’s delusional or addicted to pain. Maybe both.
She should be thanking me for freeing her from herself.
Still, something about it nagged at me. If she’d caught wind of anything, if someone had started digging into what happened to Orlov…
No. I wouldn’t burden myself thinking about this. Viktor would handle it. Just like he said he would.
I shook the thought off just as Viktor turned around, setting down two plates with a flourish.
“Colazione pronta,” he said, proud as ever.
My stomach practically sang. I clapped my hands together, grinning like a kid.
“It looks amazing. Thank you.”
He smirked, clearly pleased with himself, and I hopped down to follow him to the table, carrying our drinks while he brought the plates.
And yes, I spent most of that short walk staring at his ass.
It was impossible not to. Broad shoulders, narrow waist, that slow, confident stride.
My husband was sin personified.
I ate with the very distinct feeling that Viktor’s eyes were on me the entire time.
But I refused to look up. Let him watch. I was starving, and this meal was way too good to worry about manners. The pancetta was crisp, the eggs were creamy, and honestly, I didn’t even care if I looked unhinged.
Between bites, I could still feel his gaze, warm like sunlight on the side of my face.
“You’re so beautiful,” he said finally. “You make my heart full, you know that right?”
My fork froze midair. I looked up at him, and time sort of slowed.
He leaned across the table, brushed his thumb over my lip carefully, and then brought the same finger to his mouth, his eyes still locked on mine as he sucked it clean.
I forgot how to breathe.
The silence stretched between us, humming with electricity.
Then, completely unfazed, he asked, “How’s your economics program going?”
I blinked, trying to pull my brain out of whatever fog it had slipped into.
“Uh… f-fine. It’s fine. I’ll be done in two months.”
I set my fork down and added, “I’m also taking a hospitality course, actually. Maybe when I’m done, you can hire me.”
His brow arched. “Hire you?”
“Yes,” I said, lifting my chin. “At the hotel. Or any of your other businesses. I’d like to work for you.”
He looked at me like I’d just told a joke he didn’t quite get. “You have enough money to buy a couple of islands, and you want to work for me?”
“Yes.” I said firmly.
A pause, then, “Alright,” he said. “What my wife wants, she gets.”
That made me smile. Warmth bloomed in my chest as I picked up my fork again.
“I’ll hold you to that.”
But of course, Viktor couldn’t let the moment stay sweet for long.
“Don’t feel bad if your CV isn’t up to par, though,” he said, a teasing glint flashing in his eyes. “The Grand Marlow needs people with a lot of experience.”
I glared at him over my plate. “I’m the wife of the owner. I can do whatever I want.”
“Nah,” he said, shaking his head, that infuriating smirk spreading wider. “I know the owner. He doesn’t do nepotism. You’ll have to earn it.”
I opened my mouth to retort and tell him that he just said I’ll get what I want, but his phone buzzed beside him.
The playful air disappeared in an instant.
“Excuse me,” he murmured, picking it up.
I watched his expression change, the humor fading, his features tightening.
His jaw clenched.
A shadow fell across his face, cold and dark.