Page 102 of Velvet Chains
It’s Victor. Of course it fucking is.
For a moment, I’m tempted to answer. To scream and rage and let him have it, to make him feel even a fraction of the pain he’s caused me.
But I can’t. I’m too raw, too broken. If I hear his voice now, I might just shatter completely.
So I let it ring. And ring. And ring.
Until finally, blessedly, it stops.
I let out a shaky breath, leaning my head back against the bench. The metal is cold against my skin, a sharp contrast to the heat of my anger, my humiliation.
I close my eyes, trying to block out the world.
The scent of hot dogs wafts through the air, making my stomach grumble even louder.
“Oh, come on,” I groan, looking around for the source of the tantalizing aroma.
And there they are, a picture-perfect couple, all smiles and loving embraces as they share a hot dog.
“Well, isn’t that just fucking adorable,” I mutter bitterly.“Happiness, love, and processed meat. The holy trinity of everything I don’t have.”
Tears stream down my face as I wallow in self-pity.
What’s with all these emotions? Ah, must be those infamous pregnancy hormones kicking in.
Trying to hide my tears, I stare at the ground when a pair of expensive-looking shoes enters my line of vision. A crisp, white handkerchief dangles in front of my face.
Victor? My heart skips a beat.
Has he come to his senses, ready to beg for forgiveness and promise me the world?
But as I look up, I realize it’s not Victor at all.
I find myself gazing into the eyes of a devastatingly handsome stranger. But he’s just not on Victor’s level of hot, dangerous, or sexy—doesn’t even come close. His suit practically screams money, and his cologne is an intoxicating blend of wealth and confidence. A charming smile plays on his lips as he looks down at me.
“Excuse me, miss,” he says, his voice smooth as silk. “I couldn’t help but notice you from across the park. A beautiful woman like you shouldn’t be crying on a bench alone.”
I snort, wiping my tears with the back of my hand. “I… thank you,” I say, looking at the handkerchief he’s holding out to me. I press my lips together, contemplating whether to accept his kindness. “But I’m okay.”
He smiles warmly. “Well, you don’t look okay to me. In fact, you look like you could use a friend right now.” Without invitation, he sits down next to me, a little too close for comfort. “You’re shivering. How about we go grab a hot coffee somewhere and warm you up?”
I instinctively shift further away from him, creating some much-needed distance. “No, no, but thank you,” I reply, trying to be polite despite my unease.
He leans in closer, his hand brushing against my knee. “Come on, sweetheart. Let me take care of you. A pretty little thing like you shouldn’t be out here all alone.”
His touch makes my skin crawl, and I’m about to tell him off when suddenly, a familiar coat drapes over my shoulders. The scent of Victor’s cologne envelops me, and I feel a wave of relief wash over me.
“Hands off my wife,” Victor growls, his voice low and menacing. He steps in front of me protectively, shielding me from the stranger’s unwanted advances. “I suggest you disappear. Now.”
Victor’s voice rumbles like a thunderstorm as he snarls. He towers over the stranger. His hands, balled into fists, tremble with restrained rage as he stares down the intruder like he’s going to kill him.
“You lay one finger on my wife,” he growls, “and I’ll break every single bone in your hand.”
Chapter 41
Victor
I WATCH as Laura storms out of the restaurant, her face a mask of pain and hurt. The sight of her like that twists something inside me, and I find myself following her before I even realize what I’m doing.
