CHAPTER 5
1032 Words
DENIS'S POV****
I had just wrapped up a meeting and was on my way back to my office when raised voices drifted up from the reception. Normally, I would ignore things like that. People argue here every day.
She stood at the front desk, shoulders squared, hands pressed flat against the counter. The receptionist was trying to shut her down, but she didn't budge. She spoke again with firmness, and for a second something tugged at my memory.
Then it clicked.
Her. The girl from the boat. I stopped walking.
Of all the places she could have disappeared to, she ended up here– inside my building, arguing like she had every right to be. She didn't look comfortable, but she wasn't backing down either. Her chin lifted when the receptionist raised her voice, and I saw her fingers curl briefly, like she was steadying herself.
Interesting.
I turned slightly. “Viktor.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Tell the receptionist to let her in.”
He glanced at me, surprised, but nodded and moved fast. I stayed where I was, watching as she was finally given directions upstairs. She inhaled, straightened her spine, and walked toward the elevator like she'd already decided that she wasn't leaving empty-handed.
By the time she walked in, I was seated behind my desk, hands folded, expression neutral. She hesitated at the door, just for a second, then stepped inside.
Up close, I could see the nerves. Her hands trembled slightly. Her eyes darted once around the room before locking on me. Then realization hit her. That made me smirk.
I leaned back. "Well, if it isn't the girl with the melodious moan."
Her jaw tightened. That amused me more.
"Oh...well, if it wasn't the man who couldn't keep his hands to himself." She shot back.
That shocked me. I didn't know she had it in her.
"Well," he said lazily, sitting up. " You're bolder than I remember," I said. I couldn't stop the smile from spreading across my face.
That earned me a glare sharp enough to cut. She didn't waste time after that.
She spoke fast, but not messy. She told me who she was, who her father was, and why I had taken from him. Not that I was surprised. Because that sure sounded like me.
She accused me of stripping her family of everything, of leaving them with nothing but a deadline and fear. Her voice stayed steady, but her eyes betrayed her anger, desperation, and something stubbornly proud.
When she mentioned the house and her mother, something shifted. She lingered on it, like the words carried weight, memories, and loss.
I didn't interrupt.
She finished with her shoulders squared, like she was bracing for impact.
"So no," she said. "You're not taking the house, I won't let you."
“I'm not to blame here,” I said. "Your father is. Didn't he tell you that I don't forgive mistakes, not even the slightest of mistakes?
Exactly a mistake! A mistake that could have been fixed without you ruining a man. His family. Everything he worked for!”
"That mistake cost me millions of dollars!," I said, trying to stay calm this time.
"My goodness, are you human? You mean the cost of the mistake was money? Mere money?" She laughed bitterly.
That took me by surprise.
"You know I came here to plead," she admitted. "But then, I saw you and remembered what kind of man you are. A man who harasses women and destroys people."
My jaw tightened.
"You don't get to erase our lives. Our memories," she said.
I studied her. She wasn't fragile. Not really. She was small, yes, but there was fire in her. The kind that doesn't flicker when challenged. The kind that turned quietly and refused to die.
Most people begged when they stood where she was standing. They cried. They offered deals. But her... She demanded.
I could have killed her for talking to me in that tone. No-one dares to. But here I am, finding this interesting. There is just something about her.
"And what exactly are you going to do about it?" I asked calmly, wanting to push her, to hear more.
She froze. Like she hadn't thought about a way to back up her challenge.
"I don't know," she said honestly. "But I won't let you."
I smiled.
"You're brave," I leaned back in my chair.
"I'm desperate," she shot back.
"Well, I would lie if I said I wasn't enjoying these little tantrums of yours."
Her jaw tightened, but she turned and walked toward the door, stopping for a second to repeat that she wouldn't let me take her house. Then she walked out. The door slammed shut behind her.
I stayed where I was. I didn't stop her. I let the silence stretch, then leaned back in my chair, staring at the closed door.
She had come here alone, walked into my building, looked me in the eye. Challenged me, and left standing tall. Well... That took something.
"She's trouble," I muttered. The good kind.
I pressed the intercom. "Viktor."
He entered immediately. "Sir?"
"Set a meeting with Damian Petrov. Tomorrow. Twelve o'clock. Top floor."
"Yes, sir."
"He brings his daughter."
Viktor hesitated for a second. "Understood."
"And clear my schedule."
He nodded, already turning to leave.
"One more thing," I added. "I want information on the woman that just left. Every detail.
"All of it?"
"All of it."
When he left, I stood and moved to the window, looking down at the city. Moscow stretched endlessly beneath me, cold, loud, unforgiving. A place that swallowed the weak whole.
She didn't look weak.
She looked like someone who would rather burn than bow.
I imagined her face when she realized that the meeting wasn't about mercy. When she understood that, I wasn't calling them in to apologize.
But I did have an offer. One she wouldn't expect. One that would test just how far her courage could stretch before it snapped.
I smiled slowly.
"I have a proposal to make," I said to the empty room. "And I want to see how much she's willing to lose.”
- Writer
