Victoria
“What the hell!” The fiery redhead glares at me with blue eyes that remind me of a summer sky. He’s annoyed, and understandably so, but there’s no undoing what’s done. A massive brown coffee stain spreads across his pristine white shirt. I stare at it, barely suppressing a smirk that threatens to break free despite my best efforts to keep a straight face. After all, this little “accident” was entirely planned.
“How can you just walk like that? Don’t you watch where you’re going?” he snaps, frantically trying to wipe the stain with his hand, though it’s a futile effort. His angry gestures do nothing to remove the coffee I bought just ten minutes ago at a nearby café.
“I didn’t see you,” I finally say, holding the now nearly empty coffee cup in my hands. “I’m so sorry, I wasn’t paying attention.”
“Clearly!” he retorts, turning away from the damp mess on his shirt to finally meet my gaze. We lock eyes. And, well, he’s quite the looker—stunning, if I’m being honest. Zoya seriously downplayed his charm, and the photo she showed me didn’t do him justice. But I can’t get distracted now. I’ve got to reel in this golden catch.
I bat my eyelashes and stay silent, waiting for his next move. He doesn’t speak right away, seemingly preoccupied with something far more interesting. His eyes roam over me with a hungry intensity, taking in every inch of my body, lingering especially on my shoulders and neckline.
He likes what he sees. I can tell from the slight curl of his full lips. He’s probably already imagining something indecent. Typical playboy behavior. No surprise there. But that’s fine—he has no idea that he’s about to taste a bitter kind of pain he’ll remember for the rest of his long life.
I’ll make this arrogant jerk fall for me, the same guy who’s shattered countless tender hearts of girls who only wanted genuine, passionate love from him. He’ll pay for what he did to them—and to Zoya, who lost her bonus because of him, right before her wedding. Though, if you ask me, marrying Vlad is a huge mistake. But that’s her life, not mine.
And what’s in it for me, you ask? Nothing, really. Just a bit of fun. I’m the kind of woman who’s impossible to tie down. To win my heart, a man would have to be... well, I don’t even know what. Such a man doesn’t exist. Plus, I’m an Aquarius—freedom is all I crave.
So, I live for it and savor every moment. Those old sayings about “who’ll bring you a glass of water in your old age” just make me laugh. By fifty, I’ll have built my own empire, and people won’t be handing me water—they’ll be serving me glasses of dry wine and Swiss cheese!
Some might call me a conceited brat. Sure, that’s me! If you don’t like it, turn around and walk the other way. No one’s holding you here.
The redheaded charmer is still sizing me up, probably wondering what kind of sweet treat he’s stumbled upon. He thinks I’m candy, but in reality, I’m sour as an unripe gooseberry. He’ll find that out soon enough.
Finally, his gaze reaches my face, which I’m doing my best to make look innocent and sweet. I wait for his verdict, but I can already tell it’ll be exactly what I want. He’s hooked. His dilated pupils give him away.
“You’re pretty,” he says with a smile. “Very pretty. But you’ve got to make up for your clumsiness.”
“And how’s that?” I ask, fluttering my dark lashes. “Should I wash your shirt? I’m not sure it can be saved from such a bad stain.”
“No, sweetheart,” he says, unexpectedly switching to a softer tone. “I’ve got a free evening tonight, so I’m inviting you to join me at a quiet little spot. I’ll teach you how to drink coffee without spilling it on people in the street.”
What a peacock! He lowers his voice, aiming for that deep, bone-chilling tone meant to make you feel like you’re standing before a passionate alpha who knows every trick in the book when it comes to seduction and bedroom games. But he’s barking up the wrong tree. I can spin a web of charm so tight that any man would kiss the ground I walk on.
“Tonight?” I feign surprise, adding a touch of hesitation to my voice. “What about tomorrow? I’m not quite ready for tonight…”
“After ten, I expect to see you at ‘Manille,’” he interrupts. “No excuses. You’ve wronged me big time, and you’re in for a lesson that’ll last all night. That’s a promise!”
What an idiot! A half-baked lecturer. If any other girl were in my shoes, she’d probably faint from his audacity.
“Alright,” I agree.
“Not just pretty, but agreeable too,” he winks. “Now, tell me your name and number so you don’t slip away from me.”
“Victoria,” I say, looking straight into his eyes before reciting my number. He thinks I’m his naive little fish, but it’s the other way around—he’s my prey. Ivan, you fool, you have no idea what kind of witch has set her sights on you.
He jots down my number, double-checking it carefully. He’s worried Victoria might escape. I can barely keep from laughing out loud.
But I’m a stellar actress. I planned this little ambush down to the last detail last night, and now I’m executing it flawlessly with excellent results. Everything is going according to script.
Sure, I could’ve skipped buying the coffee, waiting ten minutes outside his office, and all that. I could’ve just walked up to him and smiled. But where’s the fun in that? A boring introduction. This way, it’s a little chaos before the big storm.
“It matches,” he says after checking twice. “Now, Victoria, there’s no running away from me.”
“I really didn’t mean to spill on you,” I say, playing the flustered girl and gazing innocently into his eyes, subtly switching to a more familiar tone. “I feel awful about it.”
“Save your apologies for tonight,” he steps closer. “Right now, they’re as empty as that cup in your hand. Words need to be backed by actions.”
He shamelessly glances at my neckline before lifting his eyes to meet mine. Does he think I’ll blush? Not a chance. Time to spice things up a bit so I don’t come off as some prim and proper lady who’s never seen a man before.
“You’re right,” I say confidently, though I keep my eyes on the brown stain on his shirt. “But I’ll let you in on a little secret—my hands are quite skilled. I can do things with them that drive people wild.”
He grins, clearly pleased to hear what he wants, but I throw in a little curveball:
“Do you have something to change into? I’ll try to save your shirt by tonight so I don’t face such a harsh punishment.”
“You want to strip me right here on the street?” he asks, genuinely surprised.
“You’re not going to walk around with a stain all day, are you?” I raise an eyebrow. “Judging by your car, you’re quite the important guy. And you still haven’t told me your name.”
“Ivan,” he blurts out. “You’re right. I’m a big deal, and I can’t afford to be seen like this.”
He gestures to the stain, which is already starting to dry under the scorching sun. This summer has been bizarre. It’s well past mid-August, and the sun is still blazing like it’s gone mad.
“So, what do we do?”
“Well, since you’re so eager to wash my shirt and bring it back tonight, fine. But I can’t just hand it over now. I need to put on something else.”
“That makes sense,” I reply. “Can’t do much without a spare. So, where do we get one? Should we head to a store and buy a new one?”
Ivan bursts into laughter. I don’t get the reaction. My suggestion seems perfectly logical, but then the heartbreaker opens his mouth and says:
“Sweetheart, I can’t be seen in public like this. In three minutes, the press would be all over the story of me walking into a store with a stain. Black PR is great, but I don’t need it.”
“Then just tell me your size, and I’ll go buy one,” I offer, but he’s not remotely interested in my idea. He tilts his head and continues:
“We’ll go to my place. I’ll change out of this shirt you ruined with your carelessness and put on a new one.”
He’s steering the situation in a whole new direction. I didn’t see this coming. A flicker of unease crosses my face. But I can’t afford to lose control of the situation.
“Aren’t you worried about bringing a stranger to your home?” I ask, keeping my voice steady.
“I’m not afraid of girls,” he smirks slyly. “Besides, what could a delicate beauty in a short black dress possibly do to me?”
I’m tempted to tell him I can be a real pain in the neck, but I hold my tongue for a moment before replying:
“Ivan, you’re quite bold. Meeting a stranger and inviting her to your place.”
“That’s just how things are turning out—and you seem so eager to wash my shirt. Or are you the one who’s scared?”
He peers into my eyes, probably searching for fear. But there’s none to find. Despite his invitation to his place, I’m not trembling or collapsing in terror. He won’t get anything from me. He’s only making things worse for himself.
“I’m not scared,” I say, adjusting my dark hair. “You don’t exactly look like a creep, so let’s go. Besides, I really do owe you for this.”
A triumphant gleam lights up Ivan’s face. But he’s celebrating too soon. He thinks he’s in for a fling—wrong. My plan to seduce him doesn’t include that. Sure, it’s obvious even through his clothes that he’s got a lean, sexy, toned body. But that doesn’t interest me in the slightest.