Next morning

Lara woke with a groan, her muscles aching like she’d done weeks—no, months—of high-intensity training in a single night. Every inch of her body felt worked, sore in a way that wasn’t entirely unpleasant. She stretched under the silk sheets, her bare skin brushing against the cool fabric, reminding her of exactly how little she was wearing.

Or rather, how nothing she was wearing.

The room was bathed in soft morning light, filtering in through sheer curtains. Viktor was nowhere to be seen, but she wasn’t alone.

A deep voice, smooth and composed, interrupted her thoughts.

“Good morning, Lady Croft.”

Lara’s heart skipped a beat. She clutched the sheets to her chest and turned her head sharply toward the voice. Standing near the large wooden wardrobe was Viktor’s butler—the same old man she’d seen at the pool party. He was impeccably dressed as always, his grey hair neatly combed, his stance rigid but relaxed.

And he was looking directly at her.

Lara cleared her throat, shifting in bed to sit up while keeping the covers over her. “I’d say ‘ever the gentleman,’ but I have a feeling you’ve been standing there for a while.”

The butler’s expression remained unreadable. “I simply arrived to inform you that all of your belongings have been brought here. Master Viktor ensures that his guests remain… comfortable in his home.”

Lara glanced toward the open wardrobe and, sure enough, all of her things were neatly arranged inside. Clothes she’d left at her hotel, weapons she’d stashed away—everything. It was unsettling, to say the least.

She exhaled, running a hand through her tousled hair. “How thoughtful of him.”

The butler took a step closer, unbothered by her pointed sarcasm. “Would you like assistance dressing?”

Lara shot him a look. “I think I can manage.”

She slowly slipped out of bed, still gripping the sheet, keeping it wrapped tightly around her body. The butler didn’t react, simply standing there as if this was just another routine morning.

She needed to find something—anything—to wear. Her eyes darted around the room, spotting Viktor’s discarded white dress shirt draped over a nearby chair. It was oversized, but it would do.

With calculated grace, she made her way toward it, keeping the sheet around her until the very last moment. In one smooth motion, she let the sheet drop and pulled the shirt over her head, her bare back exposed for a split second before the fabric covered her. The material hung loosely over her frame, falling just below her thighs.

The butler, still expressionless, nodded approvingly. “A fine choice.”

Lara narrowed her eyes. “You enjoy this little power play, don’t you?”

He merely gave a slight bow. “Breakfast will be served in an hour. Master Viktor expects you to join him.”

With that, he turned and exited the room, leaving Lara standing there—barefoot, wearing nothing but her lover’s shirt, and with the lingering reminder that she was playing a dangerous game.

And the stakes were only getting higher.