Page 16 of His Enforcer

I can’t wait to see it when it’s done.

We make our way to the first room and step inside. Two men are working on painting the walls a dark rosewood, a small speaker playing music in the background.

“The bed will be over there,” Carlos explains before adding, “And we have the equipment on order as well. Everything should be delivered tomorrow and will be set up after the painters get done.”

“Good,” I say and then flick my gaze over to Viktor. “What do you think?”

He scans the room but doesn’t respond.

“My friend here is an aficionado when it comes to sex clubs,” I tell Carlos.

“I’m not your fucking friend,” Viktor murmurs.

I can’t help but chuckle at that. He’s not. He’s my worst fucking enemy. There’s no rhyme or reason for it, but I don’t like him.

The way he makes me think about him when I don’t want to be thinking. The way he’s always around…

“Come here,” I say, pointing to the middle of the room. I know this will only make it worse, but I do it anyway. “Bend over here.”

Viktor’s eyes darken. “What the fuck for?”

Carlos eyes me, questioning why Viktor is defying me, but I ignore those looks. He won’t say a damn thing about this.

“Who’s the boss, Viktor? Or do I have to remind you again who fucking owns you? Go bend over. Hands on thefloor.”

His knuckles crack, but he moves forward and does as he’s told, arching forward, his ass out, his hands on his ankles.

I inhale and blow smoke from the corner of my mouth. Something twists inside of me. Like that night. It twisted and curled until I was helpless to give in.

“Hm, what do you think, Carlos?”

He doesn’t answer, which is good. He shouldn’t fucking say a word. Not if he wants to live.

“Can I fucking stand up now?” he hisses.

“Mm. Yes,” I say, and then we follow Carlos into each room, inspecting them, and in each one, I make Viktor bend over in different parts of it, one time even insisting that he get on his hands and knees like a fucking dog.

By the time we make it to the last room, his dick is hard and he’s fuming.

He fucking hates that he likes it. And I hate that I like making him obey.

We’re both equally fucked up.

“Up against that wall, Viktor, arms and legs spread.”

“Fuck no.”

I reach out, pressing my fingers into his cheeks and squeezing tightly. His lips pucker and his cheeks redden in defiance.

“Listen to me.”

“Fuck you,” he murmurs through those pink lips.

My hand slides down his cheeks to his neck, and I squeeze it roughly, making his eyes widen slightly. Seems I like choking him. It’s becoming quite the hobby.

“Don’t forget who I am, Vik,” I say, loosening my hand but keeping it against his neck. He inhales sharply and I move my face closer to him, breathing in the scent of him.

I remember that scent.

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