Permission

VIKTOR

I made one thing perfectly clear. If Katherine Bishop was going to work for me, she would be living in my mansion.

I was still standing in front of Zuri.

"Miss Bishop left this afternoon, sir. She hasn't returned"

This afternoon and look at the time. It was already past 9pm.

I walked out and went into my room, I dialed her number which I had gotten from her resume.

"Come home. Now." I barked into the phone.

"What?" She asked. Her voice making me even more angrier.

"Now, Zayka."

I hung up on her and threw the phone on the bed.

Why the fuck was I so worked up. She wasn't my woman. She didn't even mean anything to me.

She was probably at her grandmother's, I knew this. Yet...

I had never met a woman that has disobeyed me this much.

I already told her about staying in the mansion so imagine my surprise when Yuri told me she had left the house hours ago.

Without permission.

I rubbed my temple.

I was annoyed by her disobedience.

Mostly because I spent the next 30 minutes wondering whether she'd run away from here... from me.

A soft knock came through my room door. She had never been in my room before... I was almost nervous.

I looked at the time, it was 9:45pm

I walked to the door, opened it, allowed her to walk in and I closed the door.

"Where were you?" I asked.

"I had things to do" she said folding her arms.

"You live here now" I said in a stern, almost angry voice.

"I have a life outside this mansion"

"You should have informed me before leaving"

"You weren't in the house and she was getting discharged today, I had to go"

"And you couldn't wait till I got back?"

"No. I couldn't" she snapped. "I wasn't aware your mansion was a cage and that I have to ask permission from you before I can leave"

I stared at her.

"And I don't need to ask for permission, what is this? The medieval times? You're not my father or my husband and even if you were, I'm still a full grown woman"

I just stood there, stunned. For a minute I had forgotten she was American. And women in America were different from women in Russia.

I wasn't used to women like her. I should be pissed but instead I found her fuming red face cute.

As she spoke her chest rose up and down, making it hard not to look at her plump breasts.

"You know what's funny?" She said again.

"I doubt I do"

"You!" She stepped closer pointing at me.

I immediately caught a whiff of her sweet cologne. I remembered that day at the penthouse.

And God. The fucking things I wanted to do to this woman were beyond me.

"Unlike you I don't have endless money" She said, her finger jabbing towards my chest." I don't have dozens of people waiting to solve my problems"

I scoffed.

"My grandmother is recovering from a heart attack. And unlike you who doesn't care about anyone but yourself, I care about my grandmother. So excuse me if I had something more important to do than report my every move to you" She spoke in one breath.

For the next minute I just stood there, watching her catch her breath.

"Blyad" I cursed in Russian.

"Don't curse at me in Russian"

"I wasn't cursing at you"

"Yeah, right"

"Chyort vozmi" another curse escaped me and she threw both hands into the air.

"Unbelievable" she said.

Without waiting for another word from me, she stormed out of my room.

She was a handful.

I had other things to do for now, I'd handle her later. I walked out of the room only to meet Romanov outside my door.

"You handled that well" He said, almost laughing.

"I wasn't asking for your opinion"

"You rarely do"

I sighed as we continued walking to my office.

The moment the door shut, we started talking business.

Romanov spread several maps across the conference table.

"Our cargo reaches the docks tomorrow."

"And customs?"

"Already paid."

"Security?"

He nodded.

"No problems expected."

I almost laughed.

Problems were always expected.

That was the business.

Romanov continued explaining routes and schedules.

Halfway through the meeting...

Footsteps echoed outside my office.

They stopped.

A hesitant knock followed.

Romanov reached for the pistol beneath his jacket.

I raised one hand.

"I'll handle it."

I opened the door...

Katherine.

She wore a short night gown that hugged all of her features, I could easily see her nipples. Her hair was slightly messy as if she'd been trying to sleep.

In one hand she held a steaming mug.

She blinked.

"Oh."

"You expected someone else?"

"No."

I glanced at the mug.

"What is that?"

"Hot chocolate."

Silence.

"I couldn't sleep."

"So you decided to wander around my house."

I stared at her and she smiled innocently.

"I was looking for the kitchen."

"You found it."

"I did."

Something felt off.

Her breathing was slightly uneven.

Her cheeks were warmer than usual.

She looked embarrassed.

"I'll be going now."

She lifted the mug slightly before walking away down the corridor.

I watched her disappear around the corner.

Then closed the office door.

Romanov looked up.

"The tutor?"

"Yes."

He studied my face carefully.

"Why did you bring someone like that into the mansion?"

A fair question.

I had asked myself that same question more than once.

I looked toward the closed door.

"I honestly don't know."

Romanov frowned.

"That's unlike you."

It was.

I disliked making decisions I couldn't logically explain.

Yet Katherine Bishop seemed to be becoming one of them.

The meeting finally ended just after half past eleven.

I checked my watch as I walked down the dimly lit hallway 11:37 p.m.

All I wanted was a shower and a few hours of sleep.

Just as I passed her door I heard a soft, breathy moan.

I waited a few seconds just to be sure I had heard right.

I didn't hear anything for the next few seconds and wanted to leave then I heard my name.

“Viktor…”

My heart slammed against my ribs. I should have kept walking. Instead, I stood there like a fool, one hand braced against the wall.

“Viktor… fuck…”

Her voice was low and ragged, nothing like the composed Katherine I knew.

I could hear a low buzz of a vibrator.

Fuck.

I closed my eyes, but that only made it worse.

I could imagine her so clearly... legs spread wide on the sheets, back arching, one hand probably clutching the headboard while the other pressed that toy between her thighs.

Her face flushed, lips parted, eyes squeezed shut as she whispered my name like she was begging to be fucked by me.

And I fucking wish I could.