The drive to Viktor's mansion took them through increasingly expensive neighborhoods, each one a step further from the world Aria knew. By the time they passed through iron gates that looked like they belonged in a fairy tale, the kind where the princess gets eaten, she was convinced she'd fallen down some sort of rabbit hole.
"This is where you live?" she asked, staring up at the imposing stone facade.
"This is where I conduct business," Viktor replied, pulling into a circular driveway that could have accommodated a small airport. "Among other things."
The mansion was exactly what Aria would have expected from a crime lord with more money than sense: massive, intimidating, and so over-the-top it was almost parody. Marble columns, carved stone details, and enough security cameras to make Big Brother jealous.
"Subtle," she murmured.
"I've never been accused of subtlety."
Two men in expensive suits materialized from the shadows as they approached the front door. They nodded respectfully to Viktor and barely glanced at Aria, which she decided to take as a good sign. If they were planning to kill her immediately, they'd probably be paying more attention.
The interior was even more overwhelming than the exterior. Crystal chandeliers, Persian rugs, oil paintings that looked like they belonged in museums. Everything was beautiful, expensive, and cold as winter.
"You have quite the collection," Aria said, pausing in front of a painting that made her artist's heart weep with envy. "Is that an original Monet?"
"You know art."
"I know poverty. You see a lot of art when you're too broke to afford entertainment and museums are free."
Viktor studied her for a moment, something unreadable in his expression. "This way."
He led her through a maze of hallways to what appeared to be his office. Dark wood paneling, floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, and a desk that looked like it had been carved from a single piece of mahogany. The entire room screamed power and money.
"Drink?" Viktor asked, moving to a bar that was better stocked than most restaurants.
"I'm good, thanks. I'd prefer to keep my wits about me for whatever fresh hell you're about to propose."
Viktor poured himself a glass of something that looked expensive and lethal. "I have a proposal for you."
"I'm listening."
"Marriage."
Aria blinked. "I'm sorry, what?"
"Marriage," Viktor repeated, as if the word was perfectly normal in this context. "A contract marriage, to be specific. One year, legally binding, with very specific terms."
"You want to marry me." Aria's voice came out flat, emotionless. "Instead of killing me."
"Yes."
"The woman who humiliated you in front of your entire organization."
"The very same."
Aria stared at him for a long moment, waiting for the punch line. When it didn't come, she started laughing. Not the polite, social kind of laughter, but the kind that comes from pure disbelief and a healthy dose of disgust.
"You're insane," she gasped between laughs. "You're absolutely, completely insane."
"Am I?"
"Yes! You want to marry me because I embarrassed you. Do you understand how crazy that sounds?"
Viktor set down his glass and moved closer, his expression deadly serious. "Let me explain something to you, Miss Bennett. In my world, there are two ways to handle public humiliation. Revenge or integration."
"Integration?"
"Making the source of your humiliation into part of your power structure. Showing that you can control what once controlled you."
The laughter died in Aria's throat. "You want to marry me to prove a point."
"I want to marry you to restore my reputation and solve a problem."
"What problem?"
Viktor smiled, and it was the kind of smile that made her skin crawl. "You."
"I'm not a problem. I'm a broke artist who happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. Twice, apparently."
"You're a loose end. A witness. A complication." Viktor began pacing, and Aria noticed he moved like a predator fluid, controlled, always ready to strike. "And you're the woman who made me look weak in front of my men."
"So you want to marry me to... what? Prove you can dominate me?"
"I want to marry you because it's the perfect solution. You get to live, I get to demonstrate that I can turn my greatest humiliation into my greatest asset."
"And what do I get out of this delightful arrangement?"
"Your life. A roof over your head. More money than you've ever seen. All your debts paid."
"In exchange for what, exactly?"
Viktor stopped pacing and fixed her with a stare that made her feel like prey. "Complete obedience. You will be my wife in every sense of the word. You will appear with me at social functions. You will behave as I dictate. You will be the perfect, submissive wife."
"And if I refuse?"
"Then you die. Tonight. Quickly and painlessly, I assure you, but permanently nonetheless."
Aria felt the walls of the room closing in around her. "You're giving me a choice between marriage and death."
"I'm giving you a choice between a comfortable life and a swift end."
"That's not a choice, that's extortion."
"Call it what you like. The offer remains the same."
Aria sank into one of the leather chairs, her mind racing. "One year?"
"One year. After which you'll be free to go, with enough money to start over anywhere you choose."
"And during that year?"
"You'll be my wife. My property. My demonstration to the world that Viktor Kozlov can tame anything, even a sharp-tongued artist who thinks she's better than him."
"I don't think I'm better than you."
"Don't you?" Viktor leaned against his desk, studying her. "You've spent the entire evening lecturing me about morality, about humanity, about how I treat people. You clearly think you're morally superior."
"I think you're broken," Aria said quietly. "But not irredeemable."
Something flickered across Viktor's face, surprise, perhaps, or something deeper. "You pity me."
"I pity what you've become. But I hate what you're doing to me."
"Then you accept my terms?"
Aria closed her eyes, trying to think. She had no money, no family, no safety net. No one would miss her if she disappeared. And Viktor... Viktor was clearly serious about his threat.
"What about love?" she asked, opening her eyes.
"What about it?"
"What if I fall in love with someone else during our year together?"
Viktor's expression darkened. "You won't."
"You can't control who I fall in love with."
"I can control who you see, who you speak to, where you go. I can control everything about your life, Miss Bennett. Love is a luxury you'll no longer be able to afford."
"And what about you? What if you fall in love with someone else?"
"I don't fall in love. Love is weakness, and I've already told you, I can't afford weakness."
Aria studied his face, looking for lies. She found only cold certainty, which was somehow worse.
"One year," she said finally.
"One year."
"And then I'm free to go."
"With enough money to disappear forever, if that's what you choose."
"And if I try to leave before the year is up?"
Viktor's smile was sharp as a blade. "Then you'll discover why they call me the Devil of Brighton Beach."
"Jesus Christ," Aria whispered. "You're actually serious about this."
"I'm always serious about business. And make no mistake this is business."
"What kind of business involves forcing someone into marriage?"
"The kind that solves problems efficiently and permanently."
Aria looked around the room, taking in the expensive furnishings, the priceless art, the aura of power and menace that surrounded Viktor like cologne. This was insane. This was the kind of thing that happened in movies, not real life.
But the alternative was death, and despite everything, Aria wasn't ready to die.
"I need guarantees," she said finally.
"Such as?"
"You don't hurt me. You don't force me into... intimate situations. You treat me with basic human decency."
"I'm not a rapist, Miss Bennett. I have no interest in forcing myself on an unwilling woman."
"And the rest?"
"I'll treat you as well as you treat me. Mutual respect, you might call it."
"That's not the same as decency."
"It's the best offer you're going to get."
Aria stood up, pacing to the window. The grounds stretched out below her, beautiful and perfectly manicured and completely isolated from the rest of the world.
"Why me?" she asked without turning around. "If you just want a wife for show, there have to be women who would actually want to marry you. Rich women. Connected women. Women who wouldn't spend the entire year trying to escape."
"Because they would want something from me. Money, status, power. They would have expectations, demands, agendas of their own."
"And I don't?"
"You want to live. That's refreshingly simple."
Aria turned back to face him. "What if I embarrass you again? What if I'm just naturally clumsy and inappropriate?"
"Then you'll learn to be otherwise."
"And if I can't?"
Viktor's expression was unreadable. "Then I'll teach you."
The threat was implied but unmistakable. Aria felt a chill run down her spine.
"I need time to think about this."
"Time is a luxury you don't have. The offer expires at midnight."
Aria glanced at the clock on the mantle. 11:47 PM.
"Thirteen minutes to decide whether to marry you or die."
"Thirteen minutes."
"That's not enough time to—"
"It's enough time to make the only rational choice available to you."
Aria wanted to argue, to demand more time, to find some third option that didn't involve either death or marriage to a psychopath. But the clock was ticking, and Viktor was watching her with those cold, patient eyes.
"What happens if I say yes?"
"We'll have a contract drawn up immediately. You'll sign it, and we'll be married within the week."
"A contract."
"Spelling out your duties, your limitations, and the consequences of disobedience."
"Consequences."
"I'm not unreasonable, Miss Bennett. But I am thorough."
Eleven fifty-one.
"And if I try to run?"
"You won't get far."
"But if I do?"
Viktor's smile was arctic. "Then you'll discover that there are worse things than death."
Eleven fifty-three.
Aria closed her eyes, trying to think. She could say no, accept death, go out on her own terms. It would be quick, Viktor had promised that much.
Or she could say yes, marry a monster, and hope that somehow, someway, she could survive the year.
"I want to see the contract first," she said finally.
"That's not how this works."
"Then the answer is no."
Viktor studied her for a long moment. "You're bluffing."
"Am I?"
Eleven fifty-five.
"You'd rather die than trust me?"
"I'd rather die than sign a blank check with my life."
Viktor moved to his desk, pulled out a drawer, and withdrew a thick document. "As it happens, I had a contract prepared earlier this evening."
"You were that confident I'd say yes?"
"I was that confident you'd be rational."
He handed her the contract, and Aria began reading quickly. The terms were exactly as harsh as she'd expected. Complete obedience, no contact with the outside world without permission, detailed behavioral expectations, and consequences for disobedience that made her stomach turn.
"This is slavery," she said.
"This is marriage."
"Not any marriage I've ever heard of."
"You're not marrying an ordinary man."
Eleven fifty-eight.
"I can't sign this."
"Then you die."
"There has to be another way."
"There isn't."
Eleven fifty-nine.
Aria looked at the contract, at Viktor, at the clock. Time was running out, and she was out of options.
"I need a pen," she whispered.
Viktor smiled and offered her a fountain pen that probably cost more than her car. "Excellent choice."
Aria took the pen, her hand shaking slightly. "I hate you."
"I know."
"I will never love you."
"I don't want your love."
"Then what do you want?"
Viktor's eyes were as cold as winter storms. "I want you to sign the contract, Miss Bennett. Time's up."
The clock struck midnight as Aria Bennett signed her name and sealed her fate.