Chapter 4 - Unmarked Debts
The leather booth swallowed them in shadow. Heavy velvet curtains partially obscured the view of the main floor, creating an island of absolute privacy.
Victor sat across from her, watching as she kept the ice pressed against her wrist. The waiter arrived like a ghost, placed the two crystal goblets of dark red wine on the table, and vanished without making a sound.
Khloe took a deep breath, trying to steady her hands. "Why were you following me, Victor? We met once. At the city heritage gala three weeks ago. You hired my firm to redesign the library at your estate. That was a business transaction."
Victor picked up his glass, swirling the dark liquid slowly. The amber light of the candle caught the sharp angles of his cheekbones. "A business transaction requires only an architect and a contract. I didn't hire your firm, Khloe. I hired you."
"Why?"
"Because you don't look at me like the rest of the parasites in this city," he said, taking a sip. "You don't grovel, you don't look for an angle, and you don't flinch when I speak. At least... you didn't until tonight."
"Tonight was... complicated," she murmured, looking down at the table.
"There is nothing complicated about a weak man terrorizing a woman because he cannot accept that he is obsolete," Victor said sharply. "Liam Vance is drowning in debt. Did he mention that between his threats?"
Khloe snapped her head up. "What?"
Victor set his glass down with deliberate calm. "Your ex-fiancé has a severe gambling problem. He owes three million dollars to a loan syndicate operating out of the southern docks. They gave him until Friday to deliver collateral. And do you know what he put up as his primary asset to buy himself time?"
Cold dread pooled in Khloe's stomach. "The gallery space. My design studio."
"The deed to your building was co-signed under his family's holding company before you broke off the engagement," Victor explained, his voice chillingly precise. "He didn't come to this restaurant to beg for you back, Khloe. He came to force you to sign over the title deeds so he could hand them to a consortium of bloodthirsty predators."
Khloe felt the room spin. The studio had been her dream for seven years. She had poured every penny of her savings, every sleepless night, every tear into building that sanctuary. Liam had insisted on using his family's corporate lawyers to help secure the lease when they were together, claiming it was for tax advantages. She had trusted him.
"He... he can't do that," she choked out, her fingers trembling against the melting ice. "It's mine. The business is mine."
"Legally, on paper, his name is tied to the leasehold guarantee. The men he owes do not care about moral ownership," Victor said softly. "They will kick your doors in by Monday morning, strip your computers, sell your blueprints, and burn what remains for the insurance."
Tears pricked her eyelids, but she refused to let them fall. She gripped the edge of the table, her jaw set tight. "Then I'll call the police. I'll get an injunction. I'll—"
"The police won't touch the southern docks, Khloe. Even the mayor looks the other way when those shipping containers move at night." Victor leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table. The candlelight flickered across the dangerous edge in his smile. "Liam made a deal with rats. But he forgot that rats only run until they encounter a wolf."
"And you're the wolf?" she asked, her voice barely louder than a whisper.
"I am the owner of the territory they hunt in," Victor corrected quietly. "And I don't permit vermin to touch what belongs in my sight."
Khloe swallowed hard, realizing the gravity of the chessboard she had unwittingly walked onto. "What do you want, Victor?"
May you like
Victor stared into her eyes, unblinking, his gaze so intense it felt physical. "I want you safe. I want Liam Vance erased from your life completely. And in return, I want you to design my estate. Not from your vulnerable downtown studio... but from inside my walls."
***
