“Why?”I asked, my tone flat.
Viktor shrugged, pretending boredom.“Her owner no longer wishes to sell her.”
I blinked once.
“Her owner?”I repeated.
He gave a careless wave.“Yes.There was… some confusion.”
A muscle ticked in my jaw.
I stepped closer, just one inch, but it was enough to make his closest guard shift uneasily.
“Explain,” I said.
Viktor smirked, trying to look like a man in control.“She was never meant to be in the auction.An oversight on our part.”
I leaned in slightly, close enough that he could smell the danger coming off me in waves.
“I bid on her, and I won her, fair and square.And now it’s time for you to uphold your end of the bargain.”
“She’s not for sale,” he argued, his jaw tightening.
I slid my hands into my trouser pockets and rocked back on my heels, studying him with a kind of calm that should have terrified anyone with a functioning brain.
“Well,” I said mildly, “you should have thought about that when you were standing at the side of the stage watching the auction unfold.Or…” my gaze cut into him “…was it that you realized you could get more for her elsewhere than you made here tonight?”
His eyes flared.Offended.But only on the surface.
Viktor Sokolov might have been a small-time brute in the Russian Bratva, but compared to me—compared to the Cavalho empire—he was a toddler stomping around in borrowed boots.And I thought he needed to be reminded.
I took another step closer.Then another.Until the only thing he could see was me—my height, my posture, eyes that promised violence without even trying.
My gaze dragged over him, slow and certain.“Let me be perfectly clear.”My voice dropped to a low, lethal register.“Whether you like it or not, the girl leaves with me today.There’s no two ways about it.”
His nostrils flared.“She belongs to someone else.I do not have authorization to release?—”
“Viktor,” I interrupted softly.
Softly enough that the guards behind him shifted uneasily.
“This is the moment,” I continued, “where you decide whether today is a business disagreement… or a bloodbath.”
The room went dead silent.
His men stopped breathing.
Gianni didn’t move.
Viktor squared his shoulders.“You can’t threaten me on my own turf.”
I smiled, and there was nothing remotely kind in the way my lips curled—only a warning and the promise of violence.
“Your turf?”I echoed.“You’re running a trafficking ring inmyregion.In a club the Cavalho family has allowed to operate for the sake of balance.You think this is your home court?”I shook my head once.“No.You’re a guest in my kingdom.And you’ve just insulted your king.”
A flicker of fear crossed his face—brief, but real.
“Now,” I said, leaning in so close he had no choice but to meet my eyes, “you’re going to walk me to her.You’re going to hand her over.You’re going to shut your fucking mouth.And you’re going to pray to whoever Bratva men worship that I don’t decide to dismantle your entire operation tonight.”