Chapter 5 - The Devil's Protection
"You want me to move into your compound?" Khloe said, disbelief sharpening her voice. "Are you insane?"
"I don't live in a compound," Victor said, unfazed. "I live in a private estate in the northern hills. It has twelve bedrooms, five security checkpoints, and twenty armed guards who answer only to me. You would have the entire east wing to work. Your studio’s staff would be relocated to a private design office on my payroll, fully protected, fully funded."
Khloe shook her head, pulling her hand away from the ice. "No. Absolutely not. I've spent the last six months fighting for my independence. I will not trade one cage for an ornate gold one."
Victor didn't look angry; if anything, his eyes gleamed with deep amusement. "Do you think I am asking to possess you, Khloe?"
"Aren't you?" she retorted. "You show up, break my ex's hand, announce that my life's work is being targeted by a gang, and offer me a fortress as long as I surrender my freedom to you. That sounds an awful lot like a mafia shakedown dressed up in a five-thousand-dollar suit."
Victor laughed—a low, genuine sound that sent an unexpected shiver straight down her spine. "A shakedown implies an ultimatum. I don't give you ultimatums. If you wish to walk out of that door right now, call a taxi, and sleep in your apartment tonight, I will not stop you. I will even pay your dinner tab."
Khloe paused, caught off guard by his indifference.
"However," Victor continued, his smile vanishing, replaced by that deadly, measured calm, "if you walk out that door alone, you are choosing to fight an invisible war with empty hands. Liam is desperate. A desperate coward with a crushed hand and a three-million-dollar bounty on his head is capable of horrifying things. He knows your schedule. He knows where you sleep. And the men who want his money will use you as leverage the moment they realize you are his only remaining tether to value."
Khloe felt the cold truth of his words settle like iron weights in her chest. She remembered Liam's wild, bloodshot eyes earlier tonight. The vicious, desperate hatred in his grip. He had reached the point where he had nothing left to lose.
Her phone suddenly vibrated against the table.
Both of them looked down. The screen lit up with a text from an unknown number:
*You think your new boyfriend saved you? You just signed your death warrant, bitch. Look out your front window when you get home.*
Khloe's breath stopped.
Before she could touch the phone, Victor's hand shot across the table, picking up the device. He read the screen with a dead, emotionless stare. Without a word, he tapped a button and brought the phone to his ear.
"Luca," Victor said into the receiver. "Dispatch team three to Miss Hayes's apartment building immediately. Clear the perimeter. If anyone is parked within two blocks, detain them."
A muffled response came through the speaker.
Victor hung up and slid the phone back across the table to Khloe.
"He already sent someone to your home," Victor said quietly. "Now tell me again about your golden cage, Khloe."
Tears of frustration and fury finally burned in her eyes. "Why are you doing this? Why do you care what happens to me?"
Victor looked at her, his expression unreadable, yet charged with something ancient and unyielding. "Because six months ago, I watched you stand in the middle of a city council hearing and refuse a five-million-dollar buyout from a corrupt real estate conglomerate to preserve a historic children's library. You were terrified, your hands were shaking, but you didn't back down an inch. You won that vote."
Khloe blinked, stunned. "You were there?"
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"I was in the gallery," Victor said softly. "I have spent my whole life surrounded by men who would sell their mothers for an extra percentage point. I have never met someone who fights for beauty the way you do. And I decided that night that if the world ever tried to break you, it would have to go through me first."
***
