4

Silence had never been a problem for Victor. It was something he understood, something he controlled, something that obeyed him like everything else in his world. But Serena Moretti’s silence… was not the same. It wasn’t submission, nor was it fear in its simplest form. It was measured, deliberate, and that made it unpredictable.

Victor stood near the window of his study, the city stretching endlessly beneath him like something that belonged to him. His gaze remained fixed outside, but his thoughts weren’t on the skyline. They were on her. Every movement, every word, every pause she had given him replayed with sharp clarity in his mind.

She hadn’t resisted him in the boutique. She hadn’t argued, hadn’t challenged him, hadn’t even tried to provoke him. She had simply existed in his presence as if none of it affected her. As if his proximity also didn't affect her. That kind of calm was not natural. It was controlled, and Victor did not trust control; he did not understand.

His jaw tightened slightly as he exhaled slowly. She’s either weak… or she’s pretending. Either she was scared of his touch, or she just wanted him to touch her. The thought settled heavily, and he didn’t like either possibility. Weakness bored him. Pretense intrigued him, but only until it became a problem.

Victor didn’t tolerate uncertainty. He eliminated it.

He didn't like the fact that his touch or proximity didn't affect her because Victor was affected at the time of fixing her zipper; he was nervous as well. But knowing that she was so chill about it irritated him, and he didn't even know why.

The decision came easily after that. He didn’t sit with it, didn’t analyze it. He simply moved.

Serena wasn’t expecting him. That much was clear when the doors of her estate opened, and she stepped out, her expression shifting just slightly when her eyes landed on him. There was shock, and then instant fear, but it only lasted a mere second before it vanished and was replaced with awareness. Sharp, immediate awareness.

Lorenzo wasn't home. And it was just her and the staff.

“You didn’t inform me,” she said, her voice steady as she walked toward him. There was no accusation in her tone, only a quiet observation.

Victor’s gaze moved over her briefly. She was wearing baggy jeans and a black crop top that clung to her chest, and those swells... He abruptly averted his eyes, returning his gaze to her face. “You don’t need informing,” he replied calmly. His voice carried no room for argument, no room for discussion.

A small pause followed, heavy but controlled. “You need to come with me.”

Her brows drew together faintly, but she didn’t argue. That caught his attention again. Most people would have questioned him, would have resisted in some way. She didn’t. She simply stood there, processing.

“Where are we going?” she asked after a moment, her tone even. 

No one! Legit no one would ever react like this if the most dangerous man in the country asked them to come along. Everyone would shit their pants, and there she was, standing calmly and asking where are we going? There must be something wrong with her.

Victor turned away from her, already walking toward the car. “Somewhere useful.”

She didn't argue, she didn't question him. She simply followed him into his car, telling the staff to tell her father she went with Victor.

Victor didn't like it. He made it obvious that he doesn't like her. Only marrying her for the sake of it, but she has no respect. At first, he thought the feelings were mutual when she refused to talk to him at the gala, but after the boutique scene and the way she was just blindly following him right now meant she wanted this marriage. Maybe that was why she wanted him to touch her. It was ridiculous. He hates such women. If she thought she would get power, then she would surely end up with nothing.

The drive was quiet, but not peaceful.

There was tension in the air, subtle yet suffocating if one paid attention. Serena sat beside him, her posture straight, her hands resting lightly in her lap. She wasn’t fidgeting, wasn’t showing obvious signs of distress, but there was something in the way she held herself.

Too still.

Too careful.

Victor didn’t look at her. He didn’t need to. He could feel it. The restraint, the awareness, the quiet storm she was holding back beneath that calm exterior.

When the car finally came to a stop, Serena’s gaze shifted toward the window. The moment she saw where they were, her body reacted before she could stop it. Her shoulders tensed slightly, her breath catching just for a fraction of a second.

Fear.

There it was.

Victor stepped out without a word, knowing she would follow. And she did.

The underground arena was exactly what it was meant to be. Loud, brutal, and unapologetically violent. The sound of fists hitting flesh echoed through the space, mixed with shouting, betting, and the raw energy of men who lived for bloodshed.

Serena paused for a second at the entrance, but it was brief. She moved again, falling into step behind Victor without hesitation. Her fear didn’t disappear, but she buried it well.

Victor noticed.

Of course he did.

They moved through the crowd, men stepping aside as soon as they recognized him. Respect and fear followed him like shadows, and he didn’t acknowledge any of it. His focus remained forward, steady, and calculated.

He led her up the stairs toward the VIP section, away from the chaos but not completely removed from it. The room above was quieter, darker, and more controlled. The noise below became distant, muted.

Victor stepped inside first, and Serena followed. The door closed behind them with a soft click, sealing the space. He turned slowly.

His gaze landed on her, sharp and unreadable as he took a step closer. Then another. The distance between them shrank deliberately, intentionally, until there was almost nothing left.

Serena didn’t step back.

Didn’t look away.

Victor stopped inches from her, close enough to feel the slight shift in her breathing. “You don’t belong here,” he said quietly, his voice low but firm.

Serena lifted her chin just slightly, meeting his gaze without hesitation. “Yes,” she replied, her tone calm, almost indifferent.

Something flickered in his eyes.

Victor stepped even closer, his hand bracing against the wall beside her, effectively caging her in. The space around her disappeared, leaving only him. “Look around,” he murmured. “Tell me what you see.”

Her breath hitched, subtle but present. Still, she didn’t break eye contact. “Violence,” she said after a moment. “Control disguised as chaos.”

Victor stilled.

That wasn’t the answer he expected.

His gaze dropped briefly, studying her expression. Calm, composed, but beneath it, there was something else. Fear, sharp and controlled, carefully hidden but not invisible.

He saw it.

And that was not enough.

He took another step closer, which left her with no choice but to step back, pressing her back against the wall to create some distance between them, but Victor didn't let her. He was inches away from her, and she lowered her gaze as his hot breath caressed her forehead.

"You're smart. I like that." He rasped, his lips brushing against her temples as she flinched, jerking back from his touch, her chin wobbled, for a tiny second, and that was enough.

Victor stepped back abruptly, breaking the moment as if it had never happened. Like he had what he needed. 

His heart was pounding so fast, and he could feel the blood rushing to his ears as he exhaled slowly to relax.

They returned downstairs, back into the noise and movement of the arena. This time, Serena didn’t pause at all. She walked beside him, her composure intact, but the tension in her body remained.

Victor noticed the way her fingers curled slightly before relaxing again. The way her gaze moved carefully, assessing everything without drawing attention.

She was adapting.

Interesting.

It happened quickly. One of the men moved too close, careless and unaware of who she was. His hand brushed against her arm as he passed, lingering just a second too long.

That was enough.

Victor reacted instantly. His hand shot out, gripping the man by the collar and dragging him back with brutal force. The noise around them didn’t stop, but attention shifted.

“Touch her again,” Victor said calmly, his voice dangerously quiet, “and you die.”

The man laughed nervously, trying to brush it off. “Relax, I didn’t-”

The punch cut him off.

Hard.

Precise.

The man dropped instantly. Blood spurted out of his nose and mouth as he cried in pain, holding his broken nose, which was barely dangling on his face.

Victor didn’t spare him another glance.

His arm came around Serena’s waist, pulling her against his side in one smooth motion. The hold was firm, possessive, leaving no room for interpretation.

“Stay close,” he said quietly.

Serena froze in his hold. Her breath turned uneven, her pulse racing in a way she couldn’t hide anymore. Victor felt it, every bit of it.

For the first time, she didn’t mask it completely.

He released her after a moment, stepping back as if nothing had happened. The distance returned, but the impact of the moment lingered heavily between them.

They didn’t stay much longer after that. Victor had seen enough.

And he hated the fact that she felt and looked so f*cking innocent, though she wasn't.

Outside, the air felt colder, cleaner, almost too quiet after the chaos inside. Serena stepped away from him immediately, putting space between them as she turned to face him.

Her composure cracked slightly, not enough to break, but enough to reveal what she had been holding back.

“Why did you bring me here?” she asked, her voice steady but edged with something deeper.

Victor watched her for a moment before answering. “To see what you are.”

Her brows furrowed slightly. “And?”

He stepped closer, just enough to make his presence known without invading her space completely. “I haven’t decided yet.”

Serena stared at him, her breathing uneven, her thoughts clearly racing beneath the surface. “You think this is a game?” she asked quietly.

Victor’s gaze didn’t waver. “No,” he said calmly. “I think it’s necessary.”

Silence fell between them, heavy and unspoken.

“You wanted me to break,” she said after a moment, her voice steadier now. Victor didn’t respond immediately. He simply watched her.

“I didn’t,” she added.

His head tilted slightly. “No,” he said. “You didn’t.” But he clearly saw all the cracks in her very strong armour.

A pause followed, longer this time.

“But you were afraid.” He said. The words were quiet, precise. Serena’s gaze snapped back to his, her expression tightening slightly. She didn’t deny it.

Victor stepped closer, his voice dropping just a fraction. “You hide it well,” he said. “But not well enough.”

Her breath caught briefly. Victor straightened, stepping back once more, restoring the distance. “Get in the car,” he said calmly.

The drive back was silent, but it carried a different weight now.

Victor didn’t look at her, didn’t speak, but his thoughts were clear.

She hadn’t broken.

But she wasn’t fearless either.

She was something in between.

Something complicated.

Something dangerous.

Beside him, Serena stared out the window, her thoughts just as loud.

He had brought her there to test her. To break her. To understand her. And somehow, that realization unsettled her more than anything else. Because it meant one thing.

This wasn’t over.

It had only just begun.