"I didn't expect the Bratva's tech queen to be quite so... captivating," Lorenzo's voice dripped with irony as he observed Galina, who was absorbed in deciphering a web of encrypted data.
Galina's gaze remained fixed on her screens, her expression a...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
"They're here," Viktor whispers, his voice barely audible.
"I'm aware," I reply, keeping my own voice low.
Tomorrow marks the day of my engagement to Lorenzo Marchetti, and tonight is the crucial meeting where we'll finalize our terms and conditions as a couple. Viktor, ever the loyal and perceptive friend, has insisted on accompanying me, citing his distrust of Lorenzo. According to Viktor, Lorenzo is nothing short of a bastard.
Currently, we find ourselves in the midst of my closet, the scene a mix of fashion and tension. Viktor is rummaging through the hangers with a practiced eye, seeking the perfect ensemble for what he has dubbed a 'date' with my soon-to-be husband. As my best friend, Viktor has taken on the task of picking out my outfit, a responsibility he seems to relish.
I watch as Viktor's fingers pause at a particular section of the closet. A mischievous grin spreads across his face, revealing his charming dimples. He emerges with a piece of black clothing, the fabric gliding between his fingers.
"Here you go, my lady," Viktor announces with a flourish, his grin widening. Standing at an imposing 6'2" with a physique sculpted to perfection, Viktor's presence is magnetic. His black hair, sharp black eyes, and subtle beard create a ruggedly handsome image. Tonight, he wears a black designer shirt with sleeves rolled up, blue jeans, and dark brown boots-an outfit that only enhances his striking appearance.
I take the garment from him and head to the bathroom, feeling the fabric's soft texture beneath my fingers. The dress Viktor has selected is a sleek, skin-tight black number. It hugs my curves with a precision that accentuates my round hips and perky breasts, cinching tightly at the waist before cascading down to mid-thigh. The thin straps delicately rest on my shoulders, promising a bold statement.
Fuck you, Viktor. This isn't a night out at a club; it's a formal meeting with Lorenzo, and I need something more subdued. Resolving to ask Viktor for an alternative, I step out of the bathroom.
To my surprise, Viktor has transformed my bedroom into an impromptu fashion show. He stands there, holding a pair of black Mach & Mach heels, their glossy surface catching the light. The shoes are a statement of elegance and audacity, a perfect match for the dress he's chosen.
"This is not going to work, Viktor. Pick something else," I assert as I step into the room, my voice leaving no room for debate.
Viktor looks up from where he's admiring the dress, his eyes widening as he takes in my discontented expression. "It's beautiful, Galina. You look lovely," he responds, his brow furrowing with confusion. The sincerity in his voice clashes with the frustration bubbling inside me. I'm torn between wanting to shake some sense into him and admiring his misguided innocence.
"It's too revealing, Viktor. I'm not heading to a club," I say, struggling to keep my tone measured.
Viktor's face remains a mask of bewilderment. "What makes you think you look like a girl going to a club?"
