Page 10 of The Arrangement

Beyond the fear and nerves, something that scared Viviana even worse resided in the pit of her stomach: want. She wanted that. Wanted to know he had touched her. Cared for her. Worried over her. But she shouldn’t have wanted that at all.

Finally releasing her hold on the wall, she felt stable enough to walk on her own. Moving at a speed that was too fast for her still upset insides, Viviana made it to the partially opened French doors at the end of the hallway. With dark blinds covering the glass, no one on the inside noticed her approach, and the woman who had previously passed the doorway had long disappeared. The men’s voices became louder again, fury hissing with a burn between every word she couldn’t comprehend. Looking through a crack in the door, the sight staring back was shocking.

At least five men were inside the room, and while four stood upright, the one who had hit Viviana in her dorm—Viktor—was lying prone on the floor. With his head bent at an awkward angle, the barrel of a gun pressing to his right temple, Viktor gritted his teeth and continued to say the same phrase over and over in Russian.

“Boss, let it go,” one man said quietly. “He’s apologized, he’s never skimmed off his boys or done you wrong in the past. Your grandfather would have done the same.”

It wasn’t his face Viviana’s eyes were drawn to, or even the man that spoke in a language she could finally understand. Instead it was the hand holding the gun with a painful force. That hand didn’t shake; there was no hesitation in the action. She had the distinct feeling if those fingers that had once touched her skin so softly pulled the trigger, they wouldn’t find regret in that choice.

“Eta ruka?”

Anton’s voice sounded darker than she had ever heard it. Hardened and cold, like shards of ice to her soul. Wearing only dark wash jeans that sat low around his hips, the waistband of his boxer-briefs were visible. The black hair, now kept a little longer than when she had last seen him, was wet and hanging over blue eyes. She couldn’t help but wonder if those eyes blazed a dark blue in his rage like they did when he fucked and loved.

Every muscle tensed and shuddered as anger rolled over his broad shoulders, the six-pack of abs clenching like the white teeth he bared when he growled out once more, “Eta ruka?”

Viktor nodded, raising the hand his boss had tapped with a boot. The chiseled line of Anton’s jaw grew impossibly harder as he breathed heavily through his nose. Something unknown washed through Viviana’s insides, sending her desire ramped up while fear prickled elsewhere.

“Do you think it is appropriate I let this go, Viktor?” he asked, warningly. The slight Russian accent in his dialect wasn’t nearly as thick as some of the men around him, but the more irritated his voice became, the more prominent it sounded. “Do you agree with your brothers that your actions should simply be overlooked because of your lack of past transgressions? Would that be to your liking?”

“I—”

“It is a yes or no question!” The barrel of the gun pressed harder against the older man’s temple. Viviana’s heart stuttered. “I don’t wish to hear your excuses, or apologies. I want a fucking answer!”

Viviana’s fingers tightened around the doorknob as Viktor’s voice turned quieter and he said, “Yes, I was wrong.”

Anton gripped the gun, and he tapped the piece three short times to the man’s head. “This hand,” he stated, his foot tapping against Viktor’s clenched fingers once more. “You hit her with this one, so open it up against the floor. Now.”

“Boss!”

“Would you like to be next, Boris? I should take a pound from you, too, considering you didn’t step in until after he’d smacked her around a little. I was very clear with my instructions. Neither of you idiots managed to follow them properly.”

Anton stood straight, turning to face Boris, and giving Viviana a view of the wide plains of his back and shoulders. Stretched with bands of muscles, his shoulders were strong, wide, and shuddering with barely contained fury. Black ink crisscrossed his skin in a tribal design and a black star resided on both of his shoulders between the inky licks of color.

“The orders were clear, and you allowed him to break my protocol. At the very least, you could have used that sedative before you took her from the dorm, and he did not have to end that bull inside the complex. Those are issues I have to fix now. Too sloppy for a brigadier of your age and knowledge. Both of you are losing the thirty percent share from your boy’s tributes this month, and maybe next, too. I haven’t decided, yet.”

“Yes, Boss,” Boris replied quietly.

Anton turned back to Viktor, the gun in his grip aimed and ready. Viviana choked knowing what he was about to do, but still unable to turn away from the sight. “Hand out,” he ordered again. With a shaky exhale, Viktor unclenched his fingers and laid his palm flat to the floor.

Closing his eyes, he apologized once more in his mother tongue. Anton kneeled down to thrust the gun against the back of the man’s hand. “You will apologize to her. You are not to speak to her directly, or indirectly, without my immediate presence and permission. I do not want to see your face before I request it, and I suggest you stay away from my clubs and homes until this has blown over. Are we clear?”

“Yes.”

“Yes, what?” Anton barked.

“Yes, Boss.”

Without a second of indecision, Anton pulled back the hammer on his gun. Viktor flinched, and she felt suffocated by the realization that a man was about to be shot for hitting her. Bile rose in Viviana’s throat as she pushed open the door and stumbled through. With it came the attention of every man in the room, and the appearance of their guns pointed directly at her.

• • •

Goddamn she looked good standing there—like she didn’t care about them or their weapons. Anton’s throat thickened at the sight of Viviana in only his shirt, her brown eyes drawn to his. The hardest thing he had to do was check his emotions out of the equation, reminding himself of just who was there besides her, and what they would see. Guarding his expression, he felt his jaw tick.

“Please, don’t,” Viviana whispered, pressing her hand into her midsection. Her frame swayed and that only served to piss him off more. The medication hadn’t worn off and Boris used too much. Someone’s fingers needed breaking for that. “It’s unnecessary, Anton. Don’t do that, not for me.”

When she swayed on her feet again, his expression softened, his heart rate picking up and shoulders temporarily relaxing. “Get her a chair.” When no one moved, his hand jerked to the side, pulling the trigger of his gun. It went off with an echoing bang into the floorboards. Everyone jumped. “Why am I needing to repeat myself tonight?”

The man closest to Viviana—Ivan—shoved his weapon into the waistband of his dress pants before directing her to sit on the chair beside him. Her unease with five pairs of eyes watching her was obvious. With her shapely legs pressed tightly together and her hands tugging at the hem of his T-shirt to hide her thighs, she was practically naked in front of strangers.