My Accidental Billionaire Husband (Katia and Julian) novel Chapter 209

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He finally fucked her

~Delia-

I didn’t call him. I didn’t need to. Victor Hale was always awake at this hour, and he was always hungry for whatever scraps of Windsor information I could bring him. But today, I wasn’t bringing information I was bringing a problem that was eating me

alive from the inside out.

His penthouse in the sky was a monument to glass, steel, and a cold, clinical kind of luxury. When the elevator doors opened directly into his living room, he was standing at the floor–to–ceiling window, a glass of amber liquid in his hand. He wasn’t wearing a shirt, just black silk trousers, his back a map of hard muscle and old scars.

He didn’t turn around. He didn’t have to. He knew my scent.

“You smell like desperation and expensive perfume, Delia,” he said, his voice a smooth, dark honey. “Did Julian finally kick you out of the big house?”

“He told me to go back to my father,” I hissed, crossing the room. “He called me useless.”

Victor turned then. His eyes were wired, glowing with that predatory sharp–edged light that made me feel like prey and a queen at the same time. He set his glass down and walked toward me. He didn’t offer a hug or a kind word. He reached out and grabbed my hair, tilting my head back until I was staring up at the sprawling Manhattan skyline reflected in his pupils.

“Are you useless, Delia?” he whispered.

“No,” I gasped.

He didn’t waste time with conversation. He sat on the edge of the oversized leather sofa and pulled me down between his legs. Victor didn’t do romance; he did transactions. He unzipped his trousers, and his cock sprang free–already hard, already pulsing. It was thick and angry–looking, a mirror of the man himself.

“Prove it,” he barked.

I dropped to my knees. I knew the routine. I took him into my mouth, my tongue swirling around the head, sucking him deep. He grabbed the back of my head and shoved himself into my throat, forcing me to take the full, heavy length of him. I gagged, my eyes watering, but I didn’t pull away. I used my hands to stroke the base of him, my fingers rubbing against his balls while I worked my mouth.

The sound of his breathing changed, becoming a jagged rasp. He pulled out, the slick sound of it echoing in the quiet room. He didn’t give me a moment to breathe. He stood up, hauled me onto the sofa, and flipped me over.

He didn’t remove my dress. He just hiked it up to my waist, exposing my lace thong, and ripped the silk aside with a violent tug and didn’t bother with foreplay. He positioned himself and drove into me with one heavy, soul–crushing thrust.

I screamed into the leather of the sofa. He was huge, a solid, unyielding force that felt like it was splitting me in two.

“Julian doesn’t fuck you like this, does he?” Victor growled, his hands digging into my hips, his fingers leaving instant bruises. He doesn’t even touch you.”

He began to fuck me with a feral, punishing intensity. Every thrust made my head snap forward. He was relentless, hitting the back of my pussy with a force that made me see stars. I moaned, my voice muffled by the cushions, as the friction began to burn. I was wet, but it wasn’t the sweet, slow wetness of love; it was the slick, desperate lubricant of power.

He reached around, his hand finding my breast and squeezing it until I cried out. He kept the pace fast, his hips hitting my ass with a wet, heavy thud. I could feel him twitching inside me, his stamina pushing me toward a cliff I didn’t want to fall off but couldn’t avoid. My pussy began to clench around him, the muscles snapping in a series of jagged spasms.

“Look at the city, Delia,” he rasped, his voice vibrating against my spine. “Look at what you’re losing because you can’t keep your husband in line.”

He finally based her

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The shame and the pleasure collided, sending me over the edge. I catne with a broken, sobbing sound, my body shaking as I collapsed onto the leather. Victor didn’t stop. He gave three more massive, violent thrusts, his growl filling the room as he spilled his seed deep inside me

He stayed there for a moment, his weight a heavy, suffocating anchor, before he pulled out and walked back to his drink.

I sat up slowly, adjusting my dress, my legs trembling so badly I had to grip the arm of the sofa. I felt the hot, heavy drip of him between my legs, a reminder of the price I had just paid.

“Now,” Victor said, taking a sip of his scotch. “Tell me why you’re really here. And don’t lie to me.”

I looked at him, my vision finally clearing. “Something happened last night. At the dinner. Julian went upstairs with Katia.”

Victor’s hand stilled on his glass. “Go on.”

“He came back down in different clothes. Grey sweatpants. And this morning… Katia was still there. She walked through the hall in a dress I didn’t recognize. And Victor…” I swallowed hard, the memory of her gait flashing in my mind. “She was limping. She was moving like every step was agony.”

Victor’s eyes narrowed into slits. The air in the room suddenly turned cold. “A limp? You’re sure?”

“I saw it. And Seraphina—Julian’s little pet model–she was there too. She claimed Julian was amazing in bed, but it was a performance. She was covering for someone.” I leaned forward, my hands shaking. “I think Julian slept with my sister last night. I think they have been fucking for some time.”

Victor didn’t say a word for a long time. He turned back to the window, the lights of Manhattan reflecting in his dark, calculatin

eyes.

“If he fucked her,” Victor whispered, more to himself than to me, “then he’s lost his leverage. He’s compromised.”

“He’s not just compromised, Victor. He’s obsessed. He told me to leave. He’s clearing the house for her.”

Victor turned around, a slow, predatory smile spreading across his face. It was a terrifying look. “If Julian Windsor has finally decided to claim the one woman he was never supposed to touch, then he’s just handed me the weapon I need to destroy him.”

He walked back to me, his hand tracing the line of my jaw. “You did well, Delia. Useless? No. You’re exactly what I need.”

He leaned down and kissed me- -a cold, metallic kiss that tasted like scotch and impending ruin.

“Go home,” he said. “Keep watching. If they so much as breathe on each other again, I want to know. I’m going to make sure Julian Windsor regrets the day he ever set foot in a Las Vegas chapel.”

I left the penthouse feeling hollow and heavy at the same time. I had what I wanted- an ally. But as the elevator descended, I couldn’t shake the feeling that the war I had just started was going to burn everything down, including me.

The Sche

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The Scheme

-Delia-

Victor was patient.

That was the problem. He moved slowly and with the focils of a man who had been building something for years and was not going to rush the final piece. I had left his penthouse with the promise that he was working on it and the hollow feeling of a woman who had given everything she had and was walking to find out if it was enough.

I did not do well with waiting.

I drove to my mother’s.

Mama was in the sitting room when I arrived. She had been home since the dinner last night, and she looked up when I walked in with the expression of a woman who had been doing the same calculations I had been doing and had not yet arrived at an answer she liked.

“Sit down,” she said.

I sat.

“Last night,” Mama said carefully. “Julian took Katia upstairs.”

“Yes,” I said.

“And he came back down.” She paused. “In different clothes.”

“Grey sweatpants,” I said. “Yes.”

“I noticed,” Mama said. She had. I had seen her notice the slight tightening around her eyes when Julian had walked back into the dining room in completely different clothes and sat down next to me like it was nothing. “I did not say anything at the table because it was not the time.” She looked at me. “But I noticed.“/

“There is more,” I said.

Mama waited.

“Katia did not leave,” I said. “I waited until two in the morning. I did not hear anyone leave. When I woke up and came downstairs this morning, she was still there. She walked through the entrance hall in a dress I did not recognise.” I paused. “She was limping, Mother. She was moving like every step cost her something.”

Mama went very still.

“She spent the night?” Mama asked.

“Yes.”

The sitting room was quiet for a moment.

J

“Delia,” Mama said. Her voice had shifted into the careful register she used when she was about to ask something she already suspected the answer to. “Where did you sleep last night while all of this was happening?”

I looked at the table.

“In my wing,” I said.

“Alone?” Mama asked.

“Yes.”

“And the night before that?”

The Ser

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“Also alone.” I said

Martha looked at me.

“Delia,” she said. “How long has this been going on? Julian not “She stopped, reformulating, “How long have you been sleeping in separate wings? The last time I remember he took you upstairs.”

I met her eyes.

“That night, nothing happened, Mother. Since the beginning,” I said. “Since the day I moved in. He has never once come to my room. He has never touched me. Not once in our entire marriage.” I looked at the window. “I told you some of this before. But I don’t think you understood how completely he has never looked at me. It is not that he prefers someone else temporarily. It is that I have never existed to him.”

Mama was quiet for a long time.

“And yet, Katia,” she said. It was not a question.

“And yet, Katia,” I confirmed.

Another silence.

“Right,” Mama said.

That word. I had heard it my entire life the clipped, decisive right that meant she had moved from listening to planning. She stood and went to the window and looked out at the garden for a moment with her hands clasped behind her back.

“We need another dinner,” she said.

I looked at her. “We just had one.”

“At his house,” she said. “His table, his kitchen, his terms. He controlled everything last night.” She turned. “I want dinner here. My house. My seating. My rules.”

“What are you thinking?” I said.

“Katia has always had one weakness,” Mama said. “She cannot bear to have something she has claimed be wanted by someone else. If Julian is looking at her the way I think he is looking at her, we put another man in front of her. Someone who pays attention to her, visibly, at my table where both families can see it.”

I thought about that.

he had Julian’s face when he looked at Katia. The way his attention found her in a room before anything else. The seafood boil asked me what her favourite dish was, and I had not known, and he had found out anyway and had it prepared without telling

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