Chapter 2
1491 Words
Rose's POV
The elevator doors slid open. Victor stepped out first, not once looking back. I followed him, my movements stiff, fighting to keep my heartbeat from becoming a rhythm he could read.
"Don't think you can use those cheap tactics here," Victor said, his back to me as he unlocked the door to his expansive suite. "There’s no stage here for you to play the saint."
I stepped inside, scanning the room dominated by shades of slate gray and black. It was freezing. Victor perched on the edge of his desk, fixing me with that same look—the one from seven years ago.
"Cheap tactics?" I straightened my spine. "In case your memory fails you, seven years ago, you were the one who called me trash. You even said touching me was like touching filth. Why, then, are you paying such a fortune for something you claim is so repulsive?"
Victor went silent. His fingers tapped the glass once before he set it down with a soft, sharp click. His jaw tightened as he slowly rose, the tension in his expression no longer hidden.
"I won't serve you," I continued, taking a step back. "I need money, yes, but my self-respect isn't low enough to serve a man who once spat vile words at me. Find someone else to trample on."
Victor didn't stop. He pressed forward, closing the distance until my back hit the cold wall behind me. He gave me no room to breathe, let alone run.
"Interesting," Victor murmured. The corners of his lips lifted in a faint smirk, but his eyes remained frigid. "So, the servant who used to keep her head bowed has learned how to bite."
He paused, studying me—a look that lingered too long to be mere mockery—before continuing.
"I’m curious, then. Just how sharp are those teeth now?"
I tried to side-step him, but Victor slammed his hand against the wall, locking me in. His face was only inches from mine. I could feel the heat of his breath against my skin, a jarring contrast to his icy demeanor.
"Don't," I hissed, even as my own breathing turned ragged. Cold sweat broke out across my back at the sheer intimacy of the position, but I held his gaze without flinching.
"Why? Are you afraid?" he challenged, his voice dripping with condescension. He leaned in further until our noses nearly touched. "You used to kneel and beg, Rose. Now, with a mouth that small, you dare to defy me?"
"I'm not the same woman I was," I replied, struggling to keep my voice from trembling.
Victor let out a low, dry laugh—it was sharp, with something unsaid held back behind it. He didn't pull away; he held his ground, seemingly savoring the suffocating proximity.
"I love watching you resist," he admitted. "The more you try to push me away, the more I want to see exactly how far this fake courage of yours goes."
His gaze dropped to my lips before snapping back to my eyes. A flicker of something indecipherable passed through them, quickly masked by his usual air of arrogance.
"You say I find you repulsive? Maybe back then." He paused. "But seeing you stand here, trying so hard to be brave while your hands are shaking... that’s far more interesting than just another mute servant."
I swallowed hard. We were so close I could feel the radiated heat from his body. Victor looked entirely comfortable in this position, toying with me through his words and his physical presence, while I was trapped in his web.
Hold it together, Rose, I told myself. Don't let him see the fear.
Victor finally stepped back, leaving just enough space for my breathing to stabilize, though my legs still felt like lead. He poured a glass of water from the bar, drank it slowly, and watched me through the reflection of the wall mirror with an unreadable expression.
"Do you think life is some cheap soap opera where you can cling to your pride while rotting in poverty?" Victor laughed, a dry, humorless sound. He turned to face me, leaning against the bar with his arms folded.
"You say you aren't the woman you used to be. But in my eyes, you're still the same Rose."
He tapped the rim of his glass lightly. "Except now, you're just better at hiding your fear behind a mouth that talks too much."
I clenched my fists until my knuckles turned white. "If I’m so disgusting to you, why go through the trouble of buying me tonight?"
Victor took a step forward, slow and deliberate, like a predator stalking cornered prey. He stopped right in front of me, invading my personal space once more.
"Buying you?" Victor gave a soft snort. His cold fingers brushed my chin, tracing the line of my jaw. "Buying you would be a waste."
He paused, staring into me.
"I just wanted to ensure no one else dared to pick up the scraps I’d already discarded."
He withdrew his hand and wiped his fingers with a handkerchief from his pocket, as if he’d touched something filthy. The gesture hit my ego harder than any insult. A wave of heat flushed my face, but I forced myself not to look away.
Victor walked over to the desk, grabbed a thick document, and tossed it toward me. He looked at me with a thin, mocking smile.
"I have an offer for you," he said, his tone calm but cutting. "Work for me. Not as a waitress in this sleazy club, but as my personal assistant."
I frowned. "What are you talking about?"
Victor gestured to the papers with his chin. "I need someone I can mold to my liking. Someone already used to being stepped on, someone who won't mind if I spit on their pride once or twice."
He leaned forward, his eyes intense.
"That contract contains compensation far greater than anything you could ever make in this club."
He gave a calculated pause.
"In return, you become mine at the office. A tool, ready to be used, refined, or discarded whenever I get bored."
He offered a subtle smile.
"So, Rose... is your precious pride full enough to keep you alive, or will you choose to be the obedient dog at my feet just to keep breathing?"
I looked at the document, then back at Victor. He waited with a look of bored certainty, as if he already knew the answer.
I grabbed the papers with a rough motion. Without breaking eye contact, I ripped them into small pieces and flung them directly into his face.
"You never change, Mr. Halston," I hissed. "You have enough money to buy anything, but you’ll never have enough dignity to admit that you’re the most pathetic man in this room."
I glared at him.
"You’re so thirsty for control because you know that underneath your expensive suit, you’re just a small, hollow man who has to belittle others to feel powerful."
Victor didn't flinch. In fact, a flicker of something danced in his eyes—gone in a heartbeat—before his smirk returned.
"Interesting," he murmured, rising and beginning to circle me. "The more you hate me, the clearer it becomes just how powerless you are before me."
His steps stopped directly behind me. He leaned in, close enough that his breath brushed the nape of my neck.
"You think by throwing that away you can escape?" he whispered. "No, Rose. You’ve only just given me more reason to see you broken."
His hand moved to my shoulder, gripping the fabric of my uniform.
I whipped around, meeting his gaze head-on.
"Don't you dare touch me," I threatened. "If you keep this up, don't blame me when I tell Joana everything."
I held my breath.
"I’ll make sure your wife knows exactly what kind of man she’s so proud of."
Victor froze for a fraction of a second. Then, he laughed—cold, derisive.
"Joana?" he echoed, his voice heavy with loathing. "You think I’m afraid of your trash of a stepsister?"
He stepped closer, pressing his forehead against mine.
"Go ahead, Rose. Tell her whatever you want."
His gaze hardened.
"To me, she’s just a boring pawn... and you," he whispered, "are the toy I’m currently enjoying destroying."
He offered a faint smile.
"Do it. Tell her."
His voice dropped, dangerous and low.
"But remember... every word that leaves your mouth will only leave me with fewer reasons to be kind to you tonight."
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