Name: SHE'S VIKTOR ROMANOV'S.
Rating: 5.0 (1 reviews)

Chapter 1 Here, my word is law

"One million dollars for a whole me? What a joke."

I couldn't see their faces through the blindfold but I felt their eyes on me, you know. Those hungry, cold, calculating eyes of the devil.

My hands were fucking tied behind my back and my knees were scraped from being forced onto the stage like a dog waiting to be bought.

I was an object, and they all knew it. Including him.

***

VIKTOR ROMANOV'S POV.

The faint light of the room flickered off the velvet chairs where we sat, the room smelled of expensive whiskey.

My gaze swept over the other buyers, and I could see the hunger in their eyes. They couldn't wait to get their hands on the toys.

This was a place of hidden desires, where everyone struggled for ownership. Our marketplace. You see a toy you like, you bid for it.

To the outside world, we are billionaires but tonight we were MAFIAS, predators looking for food to eat.

As the auctioneer walked across the stage, his gavel tightly closed in his hand. I leaned back, keeping my expression indifferent. My father always told me to keep my emotions in check.

In a world like ours, weakness was fatal, and always taken advantage of. I watched as they brought the captives onto the stage one by one.

Drugged of course. The first girl staggered on the stage, her wrists bound and blindfolded.

She was stripped and presented like a piece of meat. The men around me leaned forward, salivating at the sight before them.

I took a sip of my whiskey, the liquid hitting my tongue as it slid down my throat. I wasn't interested in her or this ritual.

I was here out of duty. I watched as others bid her and soon she was sold.

But then they brought her out. She struggled, curiosity gnawed at me. The others looked vulnerable, but she was still struggling to break free.

Interesting.

"We are starting the bid for this toy from five hundred thousand," the auctioneer's voice echoed in the silence. "Do I hear five hundred?"

"Five hundred thousand," a gruff voice called from the far end. I didn't need to turn before I knew who that was.

BORIS SMIRNOV.

My rival. We didn't see eye to eye and if not because of this sacred tradition, we wouldn't be in the same room.

A smirk crossed his face as he took a long draw from his cigar. I watched as his hungry eyes roamed over her.

Most times, I would have let him bid with the others, but not this time. Glancing at the lady who was still struggling, I felt something rise in me.

NEED.

I wanted her. And I would have her.

"Six hundred thousand!" I shouted, my voice rose across the silent room and everyone turned to me, gasping in surprise.

The auctioneer raised an eyebrow, clearly taken aback by my sudden interest. "We have six hundred thousand!" He continued his chant, the sound of the gavel echoing like thunder. "Do I hear seven?"

"Seven hundred thousand!" Boris barked, his expression shifting to annoyance. He glared at me. The other buyers shifted in their seats, watching us with interest.

"Eight hundred thousand," I declared, my eyes locked on the toy without batting an eye.

"Nine hundred thousand!" Boris snapped back, clearly frustrated. I could see the desire in his eyes. He wanted her but so did I, and I won't back down until she is mine.

"One million," I said, smirking at Boris who choked on his cigar.

The room fell silent and I felt all eyes on me. Everyone was shocked. In all the eyes of being in an auction, I merely just sit and watch.

But this year was different. Especially with the woman standing on the platform. I could almost imagine her cursing, but thank God for the gag.

The auctioneer's gavel clacked down- signaling that I had crossed a line. "One million going once, going twice..."

"Going thrice..." the auctioneer continued, his voice booming as he raised his gavel once more.

"Sold!" he shouted, the gavel crashing down, sealing my victory.

My soldiers immediately moved toward her. She was still blindfolded but she sat stony on the platform and refused to be led.

She was resisting, others glanced between me and the toy, already enjoying the show. Two soldiers can't seem to drag her off her feet while being drugged?

Impossible. Gulping down the remains of the drink in the glass, I stood up, pushed past my men and went to the stage myself.

My fingers dug into her arm, not too deep to cause an injury. "You're coming with me," I muttered through gritted teeth, jerking her off the platform.

She stumbled but didn't fall, and for a moment, her body tensed, pulling against my grip. Even blindfolded, she was fighting.

I leaned in close, my voice cold. "Stop resisting. I own you now."

Her defiance was infuriating, but it only made me tighten my grip, dragging her toward the exit.

I could feel the eyes of every man in the room on us-on me-waiting for any sign of hesitation, any weakness. I wasn't going to give them that satisfaction.

My car waited outside, it was a sleek and black claimoflair, and I practically shoved her into the backseat.

She fought me, her movements were quick and sharp, but it didn't matter. Her strength, though impressive, was no match for mine.

And it made me doubt, if truly she was drugged, I could see the haziness, but still her strength? Infuriating.

"Let me go!" she demanded in a frustrated voice.

Ignoring her, I slammed the door shut and got in beside her, the sound of the lock clicking into place.

I kept my gaze forward as we sped away from the auction house. She would learn soon enough-she was a commodity and would behave like one.

When we finally arrived at the mansion, the tall iron gates creaked open, and I felt a brief moment of relief.

I still made sure she was blindfolded, as we don't want her tracing the way, in case she tried to escape-not that it would happen anyway.

Inside, the family looked up and watched me as I dragged her on the marble floor. Their eyes were on me.

Well. They were surprised. It was the first time in years I had bought a toy.

I dragged her toward the entrance to a room. My nephew-Nikolai watched me go and as I passed by him, I saw an unreadable soft expression.

I don't blame him. He was still young and I didn't want him involved in this part of the business. Not after I lost Alex–my made man to the hands of the Smirnov.

Once inside, I pushed her down onto a chair in the main hall. The blindfold was still on, and for now, it stayed that way. She didn't need to know where she was. Not yet.

I stood over her, and sneered. "Here, my word is law." I said in a commanding voice. "Do you understand?"

Her head turned slightly toward my voice, but she didn't answer. Defiance again.

I turned away from her, feeling a sharp, familiar throb in my temples. I needed to calm down before I did something rash.

Without another word, I headed to my room, the door closing behind me as I reached for the bottle of painkillers.

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SHE'S VIKTOR ROMANOV'S.

About

Contents

Chapter 1 Here, my word is law

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