Page 41

VICTOR

If someone was popping over unannounced at this hour, it couldn’t be good.

Another knock. More urgent this time.

I sprang up, reaching for the revolver I always kept close. I checked the cylinder, pulled back the hammer, and moved swiftly to the entryway with soundless steps. I took a quick glance through the peephole.

Barbara.

She stood on the other side, arms wrapped around herself, fidgeting nervously.

With a relieved breath, I eased the hammer down and placed the revolver on the entry table before sliding back the deadbolt. The moment the door cracked open, I pulled Barbara inside, scanning the hallway to ensure no prying eyes had witnessed her arrival. The lock clicked shut behind us.

For a moment, we stood frozen, drinking in the sight of one another.

It had been weeks since I’d last held her.

The soft glow of the living room lamps cast a warm halo around her golden hair, but her eyes were in shadow, wide and unreadable.

Without a word, I cupped her face, stroking her delicate cheekbones as I drew her into a desperate kiss.

At first, Barbara was rigid, her lips resisting, her body tense.

But as I deepened the kiss, pouring all my longing into it, she gave in—with a shift, a soft sigh, the way her fingers curled into the lapels of my smoking jacket and pulled me closer.

The familiar scent of her perfume—gardenias and jasmine—enveloped me.

I broke away just enough to breathe her in.

“Barbara, what are you doing here?”

“I had to come. I know it’s against the rules, but I had to.” Her words came out in a tumble. “Frank said things. Horrible things. And I need to know if they’re true.”

My stomach dropped, a cold sweat prickling at the back of my neck. I kept my expression neutral, years of practice making it second nature. “What are you talking about, darling?” I reached for her hand.

Her eyes darted to the revolver on the table and fixed there. She froze.

Damn .

I slipped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her into the living room. “The Web” was playing on the television. I clicked off the set, and the picture shrank into a tiny pinhole before vanishing into darkness.

“Drink?”

She shook her head, wrapping her arms more tightly around herself.

“Sit, baby,” I soothed, guiding her next to me on the sofa. “Tell me what’s happened.”

“Frank and I had a fight tonight. He knows about us, and everything hit the fan. I know I was supposed to keep up the act, but I guess I’ve blown it now.”

My jaw tightened, a muscle ticking beneath my skin. My mind raced, weighing the fallout. My lawyer was going to have a coronary, but I’d deal with him later.

“It’s fine, darling. We’ll handle it,” I said gently, my voice steady, smoothing over the cracks. “What else?”

Barbara twisted the fabric of her skirt. “He said…he said you’re not who I think you are. That you’re involved in…terrible things.” Her voice cracked, and she dropped her gaze to her lap.

I leaned back, draping my arm across the back of the sofa. My fingers itched for a cigarette, but I resisted the urge. “Do you believe that?”

Her eyes searched mine, desperate, pleading. “I don’t know. Maybe.” She shook her head. “But that’s not what has me bothered.”

I waited, every second stretching like taffy. If she didn’t believe Frank’s accusations about my business, then what could have her so unstrung? Not knowing gnawed at me. I studied her face—the delicate angles, the soft curve of her cheek. Even in distress, she was radiant.

“Victor,” she began, her voice fragile. “Frank told me everything. About his debt to you. About how you wanted me to come work for you as part of it.” She paused, swallowing hard.

“He said you’ve lusted after me from the beginning, that I’m just a piece in some long game you’re playing.

” Her breath hitched. “That you hired me just to get me here—” The last word cracked in her throat as she gestured around the room, hand trembling. “To get me into your bed.”

Barbara bit her lower lip, a habit she’d picked up when she was trying to hold back tears. Her eyes shimmered, glassy with the threat of a deluge. I reached out, but she recoiled, hugging herself tighter. The rejection stung, sharp and immediate, like a slap.

“Tell me, Victor, is any of it true?”

“Barbara,” I began slowly, like a bomb technician choosing which wire to cut.

She sprang to her feet and pressed a hand to her lips. “Oh God…it is true.”

“Darling, I have never lied to you. There are things I haven’t told you, but I have never lied to you.”

She stood, trembling, her silhouette stark in the subdued lamplight.

I rose slowly, not wanting to startle her, and stepped closer. “Barbara,” I said softly. “You came here because you wanted to hear it from me. So let me tell you.”

Her eyes locked on mine, a fiery blue storm of swirling hurt and hope.

“Yes,” I said, each word a deliberate breath. “It’s true that Frank was in deep with me. It’s true that I saw an opportunity when I first met you, which was why I asked you to work for me. And it’s true that I’ve wanted you from the start.”

She flinched as if struck, but I pressed on.

“But it’s also true that I love you. Desperately, Barbara. And that has changed absolutely everything.”

She stood motionless, carved from ice.

“I’ve never lied to you, darling. If I wanted a conquest, I’d have made my move, had a good time, and been done with it. But I don’t want a conquest. I want you. All of you. For always. And nothing else matters.”

“Then why did you hide the truth from me?”

I nodded. “That was my mistake. But let me fix it, okay?” I put my hands on her shoulders. She didn’t pull away this time, but she was still stiff beneath my touch. “Ask me, Barbara. Anything. I promise, I’ll tell you whatever you want to know. No matter what.”

Barbara narrowed her eyes and drew her lips into a thin line. She looked past me, toward the revolver on the table. “Why do you have a gun out?” she asked, her voice small but steady.

I followed her gaze to the revolver. “Protection.”

She looked back at me, unconvinced. “From whom?”

“From the kind of men who don’t settle disputes with words.” I paused. “I have enemies.”

“Enemies like Frank?”

A cold trickle of fear ran down my spine. How much did she know? How much did Frank know, for that matter? And how much had Frank told her in his desperate bid to save their doomed marriage?

“Frank has never been my enemy,” I said gently. “He’s just a man in a bad position.” I watched her closely. “I’ll admit I don’t like him much, but that’s because of how he treats you. He’s never deserved you. But he’s not an enemy. He doesn’t have the courage to do any real harm.”

Barbara studied me, searching for any flicker of deceit. With slow, deliberate movements, she sat beside me and folded her hands on her lap. “Then what kind of enemies? What are you involved in, truly?”

She didn’t look away. And so, against my better judgment, I told her. I laid it all out—the protection schemes, the gambling rooms, the nightclubs, the smuggling, the loan-sharking, the strong-arming. Every sin, one by one, like cards on a table.

When I finally finished, the silence pressed in all around us. I waited for her to scream, to cry, to flee. Instead, she sank back into the sofa.

“Say something, darling.”

She drew in a slow, calculating breath. “You’re a mobster…”

I shrugged. “I’m a businessman. My business just isn’t all legal.”

“Why didn’t you tell me from the beginning?”

I rubbed the back of my neck, feeling the prickle of sweat. “Because I didn’t want you to look at me like you are right now.”

She didn’t blink.

“I hoped that if you got to know me first, it would matter less.” My voice softened. “That you’d see beyond what I do and love me for who I am.”

I reached for her hand and was surprised when she let me take it. Her skin was cool, her grip tentative. I kissed her palm softly, reverently. She didn’t pull away, but she didn’t respond either. The silence crackled like static inside my head.

“What happens now?” she asked at last.

I took a deep breath, knowing my next words could seal my fate. “Now,” I said slowly, “I’m completely at your mercy.”

She looked at me, uncomprehending.

“Barbara, you have enough to turn me into the police and put me away for the rest of my life.” I wrapped her hands around my wrists like handcuffs. “If that’s your choice, then so be it.”

She stared at our hands, her eyes distant and troubled. The silence had a life of its own, pulsing, breathing between us. I could almost hear the ticking of her thoughts, each one a potential bomb waiting to explode.

“Why would you put yourself in this position?” she asked, her voice eerily measured as if she were reading a verdict in court. “You’re not a fool, Victor.”

“No,” I said quietly, “I’m not. But I am a man in love, and that makes me vulnerable in ways I never expected.” I searched her face for any sign of what she was thinking, what she was feeling, but her features were a marble mask, beautiful and unyielding.

“Barbara,” I said, my voice breaking the fragile surface of the quiet.

“I’ve never let anyone in like this. Not Dorothy, not my closest associates.

No one.” I took a deep breath, the air thick and heavy in my lungs.

“I trust you enough to be completely honest, completely vulnerable. This is me, laid bare. All my sins, all my desires.”

Her eyes flickered, and for a moment, I thought I saw the ice begin to melt. The tension between us stretched taut—one more breath, one more hesitation, and it would snap.

I stood and removed my jacket, then unfastened my shirt buttons one by one. Barbara watched in silence, her gaze steady, unblinking.

Slowly, deliberately, I dropped to my knees before her.

Taking her hands, I placed them flat against my bare chest. “Feel that?” My heart pounded, and my chest heaved against her palms. “This is what you do to me. You have the power, Barbara. You’ve always had the power.

You can drive a dagger through my heart, or you can take it as your own. ”

She looked down at her hands on my chest, then back into my eyes. Her lips parted, but no words came. The conflict within her was palpable, tearing her between doubt and desire.

“Either way,” I continued, “you’re my queen. Everything I have, everything I am—it’s yours.”

The room seemed to hold its breath. My skin prickled with anticipation, every nerve ending on high alert. I searched her eyes for an answer, for forgiveness, for love.

Slowly, she traced a finger along the line of my sternum. A shiver rippled through me as her touch sent a shockwave through my body. I closed my eyes, bracing for whatever came next.

When I opened them, her face was closer, her breath warm on my lips. Then she kissed me—not a blade to my heart, but a whisper of salvation. I surged forward, my hands tangling in her hair as I kissed her back hungrily, desperately. Like a man reprieved from execution.

We broke apart, breathless. Her eyes had softened, the storm within them calming to a quiet tide.

“Victor,” she whispered, “I can’t lose you.”

A wave of relief crashed over me, nearly knocking me off balance. I rose to sit beside her on the sofa, pulling her into my arms. She came willingly, resting her head on my shoulder.

“You won’t lose me, darling,” I said, stroking her hair. “Not unless you send me away. Probably not even then.”

She sighed deeply, her breath syncing with mine. “This is a lot to take in—the danger, the secrets.”

“I’ll keep you safe,” I promised. “And there will be no more secrets. Not between us.”

We sat in silence for a long moment, but this was the kind of silence that healed rather than wounded.

I reluctantly broke the quiet. “How did you get here tonight?”

She shifted in my arms, pulling away just enough to look at me. “I took a cab.”

A slow burn of anger coiled in my chest. “Where’s Frank?”

“At the bar,” she said, her tone flat. “He took the car after our fight.”

I worked my jaw, biting back the string of curses waiting to spill. “And Frankie?”

“With Edith.” She paused, studying my face. “They’re fine, Victor. It’s not the first time.”

I exhaled, forcing myself to let it go—for the moment. What mattered was the here and now—the woman in my arms, the future we were fighting for.

“Do you want to move out? Now that he knows about us…”

Barbara’s shoulders stiffened, and she pulled back, tucking her legs beneath her as she sat up straight. “I don’t know,” she said, fingering the hem of her dress. “Maybe. I suppose there’s no point in keeping up the act now.”

“No, but we’ve still got to be careful—get our divorces through.”

“What do you suggest?”

“I can put you and Frankie up in your own place until we can be together. But first things first—I’m buying you a car.”