Page 113 of Letters From Victor

The warmth of his hand on my cheek spread through me like a glass of brandy. I placed my hand over his, holding him there, savoring the moment. A thousand reasons to say no battled in my mind, but they were growing weaker, more distant by the second. The thought of a life without him—without this passion, this fire—was a gray, colorless thing.

“Yes,” I whispered, so softly I wasn’t sure he’d heard me.

He froze, and for a moment, the entire world seemed to hold its breath. “Yes?” His voice was hushed, laced with cautious hope.

I met his gaze. “Let’s take the chance.”

A radiant smile broke across his face, banishing the shadows that had taken up residence there. Before I could brace myself, he pulled me into his arms and swung me around in dizzyingcircles. The world blurred into a whirl of color—the bright sky, the gaudy azaleas, the soft greens of the lawn. Laughter bubbled up from somewhere deep within me, light and unburdened.

He slowed and set me gently on my feet but kept his arms around my waist. My head swam, but I didn’t care. Victor leaned in and kissed me, his lips soft and passionate against mine. Heat surged through me, pooling deep, turning my knees to silk.

I pulled back, breathless. “The neighbors will see.”

“Forget the neighbors.” He kissed me again. “Pack a bag. I’m taking you to Vegas.”

I stared at him, dazed, as his words sank in. Vegas. The sheer enormity of it all made my heart race. He was serious. It was clear in the way his eyes sparkled with boyish excitement, a restless eagerness that was infectious.

“Victor—” I gasped, but his kiss silenced me—soft at first, then deep and urgent. With that kiss, he spoke of longing, of promises, of a future he was desperate to seize.

“Don’t think.” His eyes blazed with determination. “Just say yes.”

I wrapped my arms around his neck, fingers threading through his hair. “Yes.”

43

VICTOR

“Dance with me, Mrs. Cardello.” I extended my hand to her, and she took it with the poise of a goddess.

She wore a simple, elegant dress—cream-colored satin that accentuated every delicious curve and shimmered with every step. My heart swelled as the light glinted off the gold band on her finger.

“Blue Velvet” played on the phonograph, low and sultry, as I pulled her onto the balcony. She melted into me, soft and warm. In my arms, she was a perfect fit—pure elegance, pure grace, and purely mine.

Outside, on the penthouse balcony of the Golden Oasis Hotel, the warm desert breeze teased the hem of Barbara’s dress. We danced together beneath the canopy of stars. The Las Vegas strip hummed with life, its neon glow casting a soft, colorful wash over her skin, turning her into something ethereal, otherworldly.

“I still can’t believe it,” she murmured, her voice a soft hum against my chest.

“Believe what?” I dipped my head to catch her gaze.

“That we’re here. That we did it.” She held up her left hand, admiring her new wedding band. “It all feels like a dream.”

I kissed her forehead, breathing in the delicate fragrance of her skin. “If it’s a dream, please don’t ever wake me up.”

The music wove a sultry spell around us as we swayed, lost in each other. Her warmth seeped into me, a soothing balm for the countless wounds and scars I carried—the ones on my body and the ones on my soul.

The record spun to a close, leaving only the soft crackle of the needle on vinyl. We stood in silence, just holding each other, letting the night soak into our bones.

“I love you,” I said, and I meant it with every fiber of my being. “You’ve made me the happiest man alive.”

She smiled, sharing that radiant joy that could chase away the darkest shadows.

We walked back inside the suite, and I poured two glasses of champagne. The room was opulent, dripping with the kind of gaudy luxury only Vegas could pull off—crystal chandeliers, plush velvet furniture, gold-trimmed everything.

We met in the center of the room, and I handed Barbara a glass. She lifted hers high, and the chandelier’s glow danced through the crystal, scattering light like diamonds.

“To our future,” she said, her voice a soft, melodious lilt.

“To us.” I clinked my glass gently against hers.

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