Page 18 of His Grip

The ring of his phone startled him. Irritation flared as he reached for it, but the name on the screen sent a sliver of warmth into his chest. He answered and ran a hand through his hair as her voice came through clearly.

“Hello, brother,” she said in her usual high-pitched tone. Viktor smiled, recalling how chill his sister was. She was his only surviving family, and their bond, forged by past tragedy, was immense—he loved her with every fiber of his being. “How are you holding up without me around?”

“Dying, as you well know.”

She snorted. “If you could just grovel and beg me to come back, I might consider it.”

“Ah, not tonight,” he said with a smile he hoped she couldn’t detect in his voice. “You’d probably be a thorn in my side tonight.”

“True.” She sighed, and he allowed himself to revel in the silence, enjoying the warmth of her presence on the other end. Kat knew the intricacies of his world and had lived with him until a year ago, when she’d decided she needed more. Now, she was a private investigator under the name Amel. If that wasn’t a turn he wholeheartedly approved of, he didn’t know what else could be.

Still, he missed her. Dearly.

She broke the silence with, “I got a job looking for a runaway husband. The wife’s willing to pay hundreds to kill him for running away.”

Viktor was grateful for the distraction, even if she didn’t realize it yet. “How’s that coming along?”

She sucked in a breath. “My best bet is that he’s dead, likely killed by a disgruntled lover. I’ve been searching for him for over a week now and... still no luck. I’m usually pretty good at finding them.”

“I don’t doubt that.” She was damn good, but maybe that didn’t matter in the long run. “Well, if he’s anything like Alexei, I’m not sure you’ll be seeing him for a while.”

“That sleazy bastard.” It wasn’t a question; she already knew. She’d once tried to find him and eventually given up, convinced there was someone extremely powerful hiding him. “I’ve been hearing things about Alexei. He’s making promises he can’t keep, but that doesn’t matter to the desperate men who believe him.”

“I already know that,” Viktor said.

“Do you know he’s meeting with one of your suppliers next week? A man who’s been loyal to you for years?”

Viktor’s grip tightened on the phone. “Who?”

Kat hesitated. “I’ll send you the details. But Viktor—this isn’t just about loyalty anymore. Alexei isn’t just coming for your business; he’s coming for your reputation. If he can make people doubt you?—”

“They’ll regret it,” Viktor said coldly.

“I don’t doubt that,” Kat replied. “But be careful. You can’t afford to make any mistakes right now.”

Her words echoed in his mind even after the call ended, a reminder of the precarious balance Viktor was trying to maintain. He sat back down at his desk, his thoughts churning. There were too many pieces in play, too many threats to contain. But he would find a way. He always did.

As for Sofia… His thoughts drifted to her unbidden, and his jaw clenched. She was a part of this now, whether she wanted tobe or not. And whether he admitted it or not, keeping her safe had become a priority he couldn’t ignore.

But there was no room for softness in his world, no room for weakness. He would protect her, yes, but he wouldn’t let her become his Achilles’ heel.

He couldn’t afford to.

The light outside Viktor’s penthouse was fading, the skyline bathed in shades of orange and gold. He arrived home later than usual, his mind a storm of calculations and contingency plans. The elevator doors opened directly into his space, revealing the expansive living room that should have felt like a sanctuary but instead carried the weight of a fortress under siege.

He had barely shrugged off his jacket when the faint sound of a page-turning caught his attention. His eyes narrowed, scanning the room until they landed on a sight that stopped him cold.

Sofia was curled on the couch, one leg tucked beneath her, her hair spilling over her shoulders like a dark river. She wore one of his shirts—white, crisp, and far too large for her slender frame. It hung off her shoulders, revealing the curve of her collarbone and just a hint of bare skin beneath. If she moved any further, there would be nothing left to the imagination, and Viktor wasn’t sure if he wanted that to happen.

In her hands was a book, one of the many leather-bound volumes from his personal collection. She seemed absorbed, her brow furrowed slightly as her fingers idly played with the hem of the shirt. The scene was domestic, almost absurdly so, but it was also something more. It was disarming.

Viktor was not a man easily caught off guard, but this—this was unexpected. The mere sight made his cock pulse with excitement.

He cleared his throat, and Sofia’s head snapped up, her eyes widening slightly before narrowing in suspicion.

“Do you make a habit of raiding my wardrobe?” Viktor asked his tone light but laced with an undercurrent of something sharper.

Sofia closed the book with deliberate slowness, setting it aside. “Do you make a habit of locking women in penthouses?”

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