Chapter 152
[ 983 words ]
Katia’s POV
Sam spent twenty minutes telling me not to go.
“He’s a sociopath, Katia. He put a price on your head, and now you’re going to let him buy you sea bass? It’s a trap p>
“It’s an information-gathering mission, Sam,” I said, checking my reflection. “If Victor Hale wants to talk face-to-face, it means he’s run out of ways to break me from a distance. That makes him desperate. And desperate men leak secrets p>
“Give me the wire,” she sighed, then spent ten minutes taping it to the skin just between my breasts. Her fingers were cold. “If he touches you there, the game is over. If he tries to take your clothes off, you hit the abort signal. Understand p>
“Sam, it’s dinner, not a porno p>
“With Victor Hale? It’s always a power play p>
The restaurant was in Tribeca. A private room that felt more like a velvet-lined vault. Victor was already there, standing the moment I entered. He didn’t just look at me; he visually stripped me, his eyes travelling from my heels to my throat with the slow, heavy intent of a man who was already tasting his victory.
“You came,” he said, his voice a low, melodic purr.
“I’m a woman of my word, Victor p>
“You’re more beautiful than your photographs,” he said.
“You’ve been looking at my photographs,” I said.
“Extensively.” He smiled. It was a good smile. He knew it was a good smile. “I’ve been paying attention to you for quite some time, Katia. May I call you Katia p>
“You already did,” I said.
He laughed. Genuine, warm. The kind of man who was comfortable enough in himself that he could be laughed at and find it attractive rather than threatening.
He didn’t wait for the server. He pulled out my chair himself, leaning down so close that his lips brushed my ear. “I knew you’d be beautiful, but this?” He inhaled sharply, smelling my neck. “You smell like trouble and expensive sin. I bet you’re absolutely delicious p>
I felt the prickle of the wire against my skin. Somewhere, Sam was probably gagging. I forced a coy smile and sat. “I’ve been told I’m an acquired taste p>
“Oh, I have a very refined palate,” he said, sitting across from me. He didn’t pour the wine; he watched me, his gaze locked onto mine in a ruthless ’eye fuck’ that made the air in the room feel thin. “I’ve spent eighteen months trying to ruin you, Katia. Do you know how arousing that is? To watch someone fight back with that much teeth p>
He reached across the table, not just covering my hand but lacing his fingers with mine. His thumb began to stroke the sensitive skin of my wrist.
“I like women like you,” he murmured, his eyes darkening. “Women who own the room. I’ve spent nights imagining this. Imagining us away from the contracts and the boardrooms.” He leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a gravelly rasp. “I’ve imagined myself catching you in a moment of weakness… rubbing my cock between those incredible thighs of yours. Oh, those thighs, Katia. I’ve seen the photos of you at the Galas. They’ve kept me awake p>
I suppressed a shiver—half disgust, half adrenaline. I had to play along. But the idea of this fucking lunatic jerking off to my pictures was insane. If I pulled away now, he’d know I was guarded. I leaned forward, letting my cleavage dip toward the table, right where the wire was hidden. I gave him a slow, simmering look.
“Is that why you brought me here, Victor? To tell me about your many fantasies p>
“I brought you here to tell you I’m done fighting you,” he said, his hand sliding up my arm to squeeze my bicep. “I want a truce. But more than that… I want to see if the reality of you matches the version of you I have in my head p>
He stood up, walked around the table, and sat on the edge of my chair. He leaned down and pressed a lingering, wet kiss to my cheek, his breath hot against my skin. “You’re shivering,” he whispered into my ear. “Is it fear or something else p>
“Maybe I just like the attention,” I lied, my heart hammering against the mic.
He laughed, a dark, vibrant sound. “I think you’re a liar. I think you’re dangerous. And I think I’m going to enjoy every second of finding out which is true p>
The food arrived. Victor talked easily about the city, about the industry, and about a trip to Tokyo he had taken the previous month. He was excellent company. That was the problem. He was the kind of man who was excellent company and knew it and used it the way other people used credentials.
“I owe you an apology,” he said.
I looked at his hand on mine. I did not move my hand away. “Do you p>
“The article. The acquisition approach in Dubai. The way I handled things.” His thumb moved slowly across the back of my hand. “I was clumsy. I came at you from the wrong direction, and I pushed when I should have been honest.” His eyes were steady on mine. “I am always honest with women I find interesting. And I find you very interesting, Katia p>
“You find my company interesting,” I said.
“I find everything about you interesting.” He leaned forward slightly. “Your company. The way you built it. The way you move through a room. The way you’re sitting right now, deciding exactly how much to give me and exactly how much to hold back.” He smiled. “You are exceptional. I want you to know I see that p>
“Tonight?” He turned my hand over in his, the gesture easy and unhurried. “Tonight I want you to hear something. And then I want you to decide what to do with it p>
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