Viktor’s POV

The car's hum beneath me felt like a distant murmur as I leaned back in the leather seat, watching the city lights blur by. My mind, however, was completely elsewhere—focused on one thing. Emma Collins.

I couldn’t get her out of my head. The way she had looked up at me with those wide, innocent eyes—completely unaware of the danger she was walking into. The fear that had flashed across her face when those men had approached her was intoxicating. And then, the way her fear had melted into trust the moment I stepped in. That trust—it was mine to exploit.

I smirked to myself, fingers tapping rhythmically on the armrest. Michael had been efficient as usual. I knew everything about her now—her address, her family, her daily routine. Her world was simple and predictable, and that made her vulnerable. That made her mine.

I couldn’t help but think of how easy it would be to insert myself deeper into her life. To pull her strings until she was entirely under my control. But I wasn’t going to rush this. I was going to savor it.

"Sir, we’ve arrived," my driver said, snapping me back to the present.

I glanced out the window at the towering mansion before me, the place I called home. It stood like a fortress, imposing and cold, much like myself. As I stepped out, the familiar sight of staff bowing slightly as I passed barely registered. They feared me, as they should. The maids kept their eyes low, scurrying to keep out of my way.

The air inside the mansion was thick with tension as I walked through the grand hall toward the dining room. My family was already seated. My mother, Eleanor, regal and composed, cast a glance at me as I entered. My father, Richard, sat at the head of the table, ever the silent observer. Then there were my brothers, James and William, both younger than me, both afraid to speak when I was in the room.

"Viktor," my mother said with a small smile, gesturing to the seat beside her. "You’re late."

"I was busy," I replied curtly, taking my seat. I didn’t offer more explanation, and she didn’t ask for one. She knew better than that.

Dinner proceeded in silence for a while, the only sound being the clink of silverware. But the tension was palpable, as always. My presence had that effect on people. Even my own family.

James, ever the quiet one, shifted uncomfortably in his seat, clearly wanting to say something but hesitant. William, on the other hand, was doing his best to look anywhere but at me. He liked me in his own way, but the fear was there, just beneath the surface.

"Viktor," my father finally spoke, his voice deep and commanding. "We need to talk."

I raised an eyebrow, waiting for him to continue.

"We’ve been discussing... your future." His eyes flicked toward my mother, who gave him a slight nod. "Your mother and I think it’s time you consider settling down."

I nearly laughed. Settling down? The idea was laughable. I wasn’t the type to be tamed or controlled. Marriage, as far as I was concerned, was nothing more than a contract—a tool for power. And if my parents thought they could push me into it, they were mistaken.

"Who says I haven’t already found someone?" I replied, my voice low and amused.

My mother’s eyes lit up with curiosity. "Oh? Who?"

I leaned back in my chair, a slow smile spreading across my face. "That’s for me to know."

The look on her face was priceless—half intrigued, half confused. I had no intention of explaining further, especially not when the truth was that I had barely begun my pursuit of Emma. But the thought of her... it consumed me.

James, always the joker when the tension got too thick, tried to lighten the mood. "Come on, Viktor. Maybe you could at least give us a hint. You’ve been acting strange lately."

I shot him a look, and he quickly clammed up, shrinking back in his chair. He meant well, but even he knew better than to push me too far.

The conversation shifted after that, moving away from my personal life and back to business. My family knew where my true focus lay—in our empire, in maintaining control over every facet of our operations. But Emma... she was my own personal project now.

---

Emma’s POV

The rest of my night after that strange encounter felt like a blur. I couldn’t shake the image of him from my mind—the man who had saved me. He’d been so calm, so composed, and yet there was something dangerous about him. Something that made my skin tingle with both fear and curiosity.

I didn’t even know his name. He had appeared out of nowhere, rescued me, and then disappeared just as quickly. It was like something out of a movie—a dark knight coming to my aid when I needed it most. But this wasn’t a fairytale, and I knew better than to trust strangers, no matter how handsome or mysterious they might be.

After dinner, I lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling, my mind racing. Who was he? Why had he helped me? And why couldn’t I stop thinking about him?

"Emma, get a grip," I muttered to myself, pulling the blanket up to my chin. "He’s probably just some guy passing through. You’ll never see him again."

But even as I tried to convince myself of that, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was wrong. Something about the way he had looked at me, the way he had said my name... it was like he knew more than he was letting on.

The next morning, I woke up groggy and unsettled. My shift at the library was due to start soon, but I couldn’t help but dread going back there after what had happened. What if those men returned? What if next time, he wasn’t there to save me?

But as I walked to work, trying to push the anxiety aside, I couldn’t help but feel a strange pull in my chest. Part of me wanted to see him again, even if I knew it was dangerous.

Whoever he was, he had left a mark on me. And I had a sinking feeling that this wasn’t the last time our paths would cross.