Page 33 of Velvet Chains
“The Vasilievs… they are dangerous, Laur.”
“Hah!” A harsh, humorless laugh rips from my throat. “Dangerous, you say?”
I lean in close, my lips curling into a sneer.“You know what’s dangerous, Dave? Trusting a spineless, selfish piece of shit like you. I loved you. I gave you everything, and this is how you repay me? By stealing from me, lying to me, putting my life—and the lives of the people I care about—in danger?”
Rage boils over, white-hot and all-consuming.
“You can go straight to hell,” I hiss, my chest heaving. “I won’t be a pawn in your fucked-up games anymore.”
With a burst of strength I didn’t know I possessed, I shove him backward, sending him crashing into the shelves. Cleaning supplies tumble to the floor with a deafening clatter.
I grab fistfuls of my dress, hiking up the hem as I make a break for the door. My heels catch on the trailing fabric, nearly sending me sprawling, but I don’t dare slow down.
I’m almost there, almost free, when a large shadow fills the doorway, blocking my path. I skid to a halt, my breath catching in my throat.
“Help,” I choke out, the word barely audible over the thundering of my own heartbeat.
And then I see who it is, and relief crashes over me like a tidal wave.
“Victor!”
I launch myself forward, throwing myself into his arms like he’s a fucking life raft in a stormy sea. He catches me easily, his strong hands gripping my waist, steadying me.
“Laura? What’s happening?” His voice is low and urgent, his eyes scanning the room for threats.
I’m shaking so hard my teeth are chattering, tears streaming down my face in hot, salty rivers. I try to speak, to explain, but the words get tangled on my tongue, coming out in broken gasps and hiccups.
“Da- Dave.”
Victor’s gaze lands on the mess of cleaning supplies scattered across the floor, the shelves hanging crookedly off the wall. His jaw clenches, understanding dawning in his eyes.
“Where is he?” he growls, his grip on me tightening protectively.
I twist in his arms, pointing a trembling finger at the spot where Dave had been standing just moments before.
But he’s gone.
The window hangs open, the curtains billowing in the night breeze. He must’ve bolted while I was distracted, the fucking coward.
Of course he ran.
Of course he left me to deal with the fallout, just like always.
Chapter 14
Victor
Three weeks later
“IS SHE still not talking?”
I lean back in my chair, swirling the amber liquid in my glass. The dim light of the VIP room casts shadows across Ksenia’s face.
“No,” I grunt, taking a swig of my whiskey. It burns going down, but it’s a welcome distraction from the frustration simmering under my skin. “Not a fucking word.”
Ksenia sighs, her perfectly manicured nails tapping against the table. “It’s been three fucking weeks, Victor.”
I grit my teeth, the muscle in my jaw ticking. What I need is for everyone to mind their own fucking business and stop asking me about what happened that day.
