Page 670 of The Tempted

The night Temptations opened began the descent of a mob boss. We learned the hard way that even the most powerful men sometimes get knocked off their throne.

I don’t know if I was too naïve or simply immune to the life we dangerously lived but I never saw the disaster that was heading straight for us—the end of Victor Pastore.

The destruction of an empire.

The death of a man.

The ruination of a family.

The end of Victor and Grace.

The buzzer rang, dragging me away from my thoughts and forcing me back to the reality of what we had become. I spot him immediately, sitting in the far left corner of the packed visitor’s room in the federal penitentiary.

This is our life now.

We’re doing a life sentence.

He’s paying for his crimes behind bars and I’m paying for them in an empty bed.

His head is bowed as he stares down at his hands that are neatly folded on the table. I freeze in my tracks, taking a moment to stare at the man I so deeply love despite his flaws. A sad smile spreads across my lips as I take in his appearance, noticing his hair has grayed even more so than the last time I saw him. He aged well, his features the same as they were when we first met, only now there are faint lines on his face that tell his life story. He’s still the most handsome man I ever laid eyes on.

I was transfixed back to that night when our world crumbled, staring adoringly at my husband, unbeknownst to him, I studied him through the eyes of the rest of the world.

It was opening night and Temptations’ capacity seemed to be at its limit. Everywhere you turned people were smiling, laughing or dancing.

The music blaring from the impressive sound system faded away and was replaced by Vic’s laughter. It was easy to see why people were drawn toward his larger-than-life personality. He owned the room. The people surrounding us hung onto his every word but when he turned around and stared into my eyes as he wrapped his arm around me, he was just Vic, the man beneath the designer suit.

Success.

It was the number one word in Victor’s vocabulary. He did nothing half-assed, always gave one hundred percent, and this club was no exception. From the marble floors to the over-the-top sound system, my husband didn’t skimp on one tiny detail. The extreme flashiness was what people had come to expect from Victor.

He boisterously laughed at a joke Jimmy was telling, turned to me and the laughter died in his eyes, replaced with something foreign yet familiar…love and affection. He bent his head, pressing his lips to mine; I closed my eyes feeling nostalgic as one kiss reminded me of the thirty-five years of kisses we shared.

“I love you, Gracie,” he murmured, pulling back from my lips staring into my eyes as the back of his hand caressed my cheek.

I wish I had of taken a photograph of him, of us, and the last time we were together when everything was just as it was when we were young.

Before the mob.

Before the suit.

Before I lost Victor to a life full of crime.

He lifts his head, turning it slightly and our eyes lock.

Nostalgic.

“Behind every great man is an even greater woman who made him this way. You’re my greatness, Grace, and I want you by my side forever…say you’ll marry me.”

Tragic.

“It’s time, Gracie. I’m turning myself in.”

Bittersweet.

“It doesn’t matter that I’m here and you’re there…you’ll always be my love, Gracie.”

I walk toward him watching as he rises to greet me, stepping around the table to pull my chair out. While most inmates aren’t allowed to touch their visitors, Victor seems to be the exception to the rule. Openly wrapping his arms around me he squeezes me tight like I’m his salvation. I relish in his touch.

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