Page 28 of Letters From Victor

As we crested the second level, she pointed to a black sedan. “The Plymouth.”

I pulled into the empty spot beside it and shifted the car into park. Barbara stared at her hands folded neatly in her lap, uncertainty clouding her delicate features.

“What are we doing, Victor?” she asked softly. “This is madness.”

I gripped the wheel hard and pulled in a slow breath. She was right, of course. This whole situation was reckless, dangerous even. But I’ll be damned if I was going to walk away now.

“I know.” My words came out rough and low. “Believe me, I know we’re playing with fire, but that doesn’t change a thing. I can’t stay away from you, Barbara. I don’t want to.” I drew in breath to speak but cut myself off.

She tilted her head, eyes narrow as she studied me. “What were you going to say?”

I let out a nervous laugh. “Nothing gets past you, does it?”

She didn’t answer.

“I was going to ask you to take the rest of the week and weekend to think long and hard about it. About us. And let me know your answer when I see you on Monday.”

“Monday?”

“Well, you only work Monday through Wednesday. And it’s Wednesday, Barbara. So, yes, Monday.”

“Do I still have a job with you?”

“Of course you do, doll.” I chuckled, trying to lighten the tense mood. “You’re one of the best secretaries I’ve ever had, and I won’t deprive myself of that talent just because we…”

Barbara blushed a deeper shade of pink, but her eyes sparkled with mirth. “I’ll see you Monday then.” She reached for the door handle, but I stopped her with a touch. She hesitated and turned back to me, uncertainty and longing flickering across her face.

“Wait,” I said softly. “Before you go, there’s something I need to say.”

Barbara’s eyes searched mine. “What is it?”

I steadied myself. “I know this is dangerous. If we pursue it, there will be consequences—for both of us.” I reached up and tenderly brushed my thumb across her cheek. My heart thundered. “You deserve so much more than the life you have.You deserve passion, adventure, love. I want to give that to you, Barbara.”

She drew in a sharp breath, tilting her face down as she struggled for composure. When she finally lifted her gaze to meet mine, her eyes were luminous, glistening like a film starlet’s.

“Victor, I…I don’t know what to say,” she began haltingly. “A part of me wants to throw caution to the wind and run away with you right now.”

My God, she even sounded like a starlet.

“But the rational part of me knows that would be reckless. And then there’s little Frankie. I can’t do anything to hurt him.”

I took her hand, giving it a slow, reassuring squeeze. “I understand. I would never ask you to do anything to hurt your son. Take the time you need to think things through.” I pressed a gentle kiss to her hand. “You’re worth the wait.”

Barbara nodded, blinking as a few tears slipped free. She quickly dashed them away. “Thank you, Victor.” She leaned in and brushed the faintest kiss against my cheek. Even that whisper of contact sent a charge through me. “I’ll see you Monday,” she whispered. Then she slipped out of the car before I could respond.

15

BARBARA

Afternoon sunlight streamed through the lace curtains as I tidied the living room, gathering Frankie’s toys and straightening the embroidered pillows. My fingers trembled as I placed the toys into a wicker basket, my thoughts drifting. What would it be like to surrender to Victor? To feel alive and free, swept up in the breathless grip of a clandestine romance?

The echo of his touch lingered on my skin. The ghost of his kiss danced on my lips. My stomach fluttered.

A sharp rap at the front door jarred me from my reverie. I steadied my nerves and smoothed my dress and hair as I went to see who it was. A smartly dressed private courier stood on the front porch, a single cream-colored envelope in hand.

“May I help you?”

He checked the envelope. “I have a letter for Mrs. Barbara Evans.”

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