Page 7 of His Grip

So why had he accepted the invitation to be here tonight?

The answer gnawed at the edges of his mind. He wanted to believe it had nothing to do with a certain dark-haired, gray-eyed woman he’d cornered the other night. That would be... irrational. Obsessive, even.

And yet, here he was.

He took a long sip of the whisky, letting the burn travel down his throat. It was sharp, unrefined, much like Konstantin himself. “Ten grand?” he muttered, unimpressed. “You sure it’s not moonshine you slapped a fancy label on?”

Konstantin chuckled, leaning back in his chair. “Your palate’s wasted on this, I’m afraid. But tonight’s special.”

Viktor took a cautious sip, the burn sharp against his throat. “Yeah, real smooth,” he said with a grimace, setting the glass down. Acknowledging the jab but refusing to rise to it, his mind wasn’t on the whisky or Konstantin’s posturing. It was on her. The way her gaze had locked onto his, defiant and daring, daring him to push further. That brief encounter had taken root in his mind, growing into something he didn’t quite understand.

Did he hope she might appear tonight, that she might wander into this game of power and pretense they were playing? Perhaps.

Did he know why her memory lingered, stirring something raw and volatile in him? Not at all.

What he did know was that whatever came next wouldn’t be clean or simple. Sofia was a complication. Complications in their world often turned lethal.

But that didn’t stop him. It never had.

He leaned back in his chair, letting the tension build in the silence. Konstantin watched him, measuring his every move, his every breath. But Viktor’s thoughts remained his own, buried deep beneath the calm mask he wore.

Whatever this new acquaintanceship with Konstantin was meant to be, it teetered on the edge of civility, bound to snap under the weight of ambition and desire. And Viktor had never been one to avoid the breaking point.

“Let’s cut the pretense, Konstantin. You didn’t bring me here to swap drinks and nostalgia.”

“You’re right,” Konstantin admitted, swirling his own glass before downing its contents in one practiced motion. “I’m not much for small talk.”

Viktor raised a brow, his tone sharpening. “So? What is it this time? Another one of your men caught smuggling, or worse?”

“No. It’s... more complicated than that.” Konstantin hesitated, his fingers drumming against the mahogany desk. “Business hasn’t been great. Rivals are pushing hard, and the streets aren’t what they used to be.”

“They never are,” Viktor said dryly, pushing back his chair. “If this is another pity speech, I’m leaving.”

“Wait.” Konstantin stood abruptly, his voice cracking with urgency. “I need your help, Viktor.”

Viktor froze mid-motion, his expression unreadable. This was new. Konstantin didn’t beg. He barely asked. Still, Viktor didn’t sit down. “What kind of help?”

“Financial,” Konstantin said, his words heavy. “I’ve got debts—serious ones—and you’ve got resources. Money.”

Viktor let out a low laugh, running a hand through his hair. “Straight to the point. Typical of you. And what’s in it for me?”

Konstantin hesitated for a fraction too long before answering. “Sofia.”

Viktor’s smirk disappeared. His jaw tightened as his mind raced.Sofia.The name wasn’t just a word—it was a memory. The night at the club. Her fiery eyes meeting his, daring him to challenge her. The way she carried herself, unyielding, even under his scrutiny.

He clenched his fist, the tension in his body palpable. “Sofia? Your daughter?” His voice was low, almost dangerous.

Konstantin nodded, his expression carefully neutral. “I’ll give her to you. As collateral.”

The room seemed to shrink, the air thickening between them. Viktor’s mind screamed to walk away, to leave this madness behind. But then another thought crept in, darker and more possessive. The idea of Sofia—of her being handed off to someone else—made his chest tighten. He didn’t like the feeling. Not one bit.

“What makes you think I’d even consider this?” Viktor said finally, his voice as cold as the whisky in his glass. “I can have any woman I want. Why her?”

“She’s... unique,” Konstantin said, choosing his words carefully. “She’s strong, smart, capable. Not just any woman. I’m offering you something that will seal our partnership and clear my debts.”

Viktor’s lips curled into a humorless smile. “Partnership? Is that what you’re calling this now? Because it sounds a lot like desperation.”

“And you’re not a desperate man? You wouldn’t be standing here if you weren’t.” Konstantin’s voice hardened, a flicker of his old pride breaking through.

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