Page 19 of Letters From Victor

I sat up straighter. “And the location matters. Not just proximity to the city, but the land itself. Rolling hills, nice views, good schools nearby. You’re not just selling houses. You’reselling a dream. A fresh start for growing families. An escape after the insanity of the past two decades.”

A slow smile spread across his face, his eyes alight. “I knew I was right about you.”

“Sir?” I asked, a bit thrown by his reaction.

“Victor,” he corrected again. “And I mean that you have a gift, Barbara. You see what so many of these pompous stuffed shirts miss. And I think you just wrote our marketing campaign.”

Warmth spread from my chest to my cheeks. It was a novel sensation, having my ideas not only heard but celebrated. Sought after, even. Frank always nodded absently when I shared my thoughts, his attention more focused on the newspaper or radio. But Victor—he listened, truly listened. And better still, he seemed to genuinely value what I had to say.

“I’m flattered you think so,” I said, ducking my head slightly to hide my smile.

When I peeked up, Victor’s dark eyes glinted with something I couldn’t quite name. Approval, certainly, but there was a heat there too. An intensity that made me feel seen in a way I never had before. It was thrilling and terrifying in equal measure.

I held Victor’s gaze for a long, charged moment. My heart pounded against my ribs, and my skin tingled with awareness of his presence. I should’ve looked away, broken the moment—it was dangerous to let the connection linger. But I found myself powerless to break the spell.

“I have business across town this afternoon,” he said, finally cutting the silence, his voice smooth as scotch. “But before I go, I have something for you.”

He reached into his desk drawer and pulled out a package wrapped in crisp brown paper tied with a simple string. He held it out to me, his expression inscrutable.

“What’s this?” I asked, hesitating before taking the parcel from his outstretched hand. The paper was smooth and cool beneath my fingertips.

“Call it a hunch,” he said enigmatically as he leaned back in his chair and casually crossed his legs. “Open it.”

Curiosity piqued, I carefully untied the string and unfolded the paper to reveal a red leather-bound sketchbook and a set of pencils.

“I don’t understand,” I murmured, running my fingers reverently over the sketchbook’s supple cover. “Why are you giving me this?”

Victor’s gaze was steady on mine, unwavering in its intensity. “I seem to recall a conversation we had over lunch yesterday. Something about a certain young lady’s ambition for fashion design.”

My breath caught in my throat, my fingers stilling on the buttery-soft leather. He remembered. Amid all his weighty responsibilities and the gravity of his position, he had not only listened to my wistful musings, but he had heard me. Truly heard me in a way no one else ever had.

“Victor, I…” My voice faltered, threatening to crack under the swell of emotion rising in my chest. “I don’t know what to say.” Gratitude, disbelief, and something more profound—more primal—swirled within me.

He stood and buttoned his suit jacket. “You don’t need to say anything.” His voice was soft and intimate. “Just promise me you’ll use it.”

I swallowed hard past the lump in my throat, my fingers curling around the sketchbook like a lifeline. “I will,” I managed. “I promise.”

His lips curved into a smile, warm and genuine. It transformed his face, softening the hard edges, and I saw a hint of what he must have looked like as a roguish and mischievousboy. “Good.” He glanced at his watch, a flash of gold against his tanned wrist. “I’m afraid I have to run. But I’m going to take you on a tour of some of our properties and prospects tomorrow.”

I stood as he approached me. The air tingled with electricity that intensified the closer he came.

“It’ll give you a better grasp of the business.” Victor paused before me, standing close enough that heat radiated from his body to mine. The spicy, woodsy scent of his cologne made my head swim pleasantly. My heart thudded against my breastbone as I tilted my head back to meet his gaze, my lips parting slightly.

His gaze dipped briefly to my mouth before flicking back up, dark and intense. “Be ready at nine sharp,” he murmured, his voice a low rumble I felt in my bones.

“I will.”

His dark eyes searched mine for a long moment. I stood frozen. I almost thought he would lean in to kiss me.

Then, with a slight nod, he stepped around me and strode toward the door, leaving me bereft and off-kilter in his wake.

10

VICTOR

“Divorce? Good God, man! You can’t be serious.” Lawrence quickly shut his office door and pulled the shade over the frosted glass. He eyed me with concern and disbelief.

“Look, I just want to know what it will take. Hypothetically, of course.”

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