Page 43 of Letters From Victor

“Edith!” I hissed.

She turned her back to me, stretching the phone cord as far as it would go. “Oh, come now, Frank. It’s not that hard. A bit of bread, some ham, maybe a slice of cheese.”

My heart pounded, and my ears burned hot. I was in for it now.

I strained to hear Frank’s response, but his voice was a muffled growl through the receiver. Edith listened, her lips curling into a feline grin—the kind that spelled trouble. She was enjoying this far too much.

“Of course,” she said, cutting him off. “I’ll make sure she gets home safely. Bye now.” She hung up the phone while he was still talking and turned to me, hands on her hips.

“Are you insane?” I spat. “He’s going to be livid!”

“Let him be,” Edith said, unperturbed. “You need some time away from him to think clearly.” She walked past me and into the living room, where she picked up a stuffed elephant and handed it to Frankie. “Besides, I miss my baby sister. We hardly get any real time together now that you’re such a career woman.”

I stood in the doorway to the kitchen, arms crossed tightly over my chest. “Edith, I can’t?—”

“You can,” she interrupted, returning to the kitchen. “Sit. I’ll make spaghetti.”

“Edith—”

“Sit,” she commanded, pulling a pot from a cupboard. “Frank will cool off.”

I hesitated, then nodded and settled into a chair at the kitchen table. Edith opened her icebox and rummaged through it, pulling out vegetables and a package of ground beef.

“So,” she said, setting the items on the counter, “you never finished telling me about your day with Victor.”

I shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “It was wonderful.”

“Details, darling. I live vicariously through you now.” She chopped an onion with swift, practiced strokes.

I sighed, knowing she wouldn’t let it go. “We skipped out of work mid-morning and went to his downtown apartment.”

Edith’s eyes gleamed with mischief as she set the pot on the burner. “Straight to the den of sin. Bold move.” She opened a cupboard and took out a box of spaghetti.

“He owns the whole top floor,” I said, the memory washing over me. “The view is breathtaking.” My words were laden with the awe I had felt standing in Victor’s arms, the world seeming small and conquerable from such heights.

“And conveniently, no neighbors to share walls with…” She winked.

I bit back a smile, unable to suppress the warmth spreading through me.

“And how is he in his natural habitat?”

“He’s very…assertive,” I said, shivers rippling down my spine at the memory of his hands on me and that commanding voice. “He knows exactly what he wants and takes it. He’s intense, and it’s irresistible.”

Edith smirked. “And you like being taken, do you? Like a damsel in one of those cheap romance novels?”

I blushed, heat rising from my chest to my cheeks, but I didn’t answer. How could I explain the thrill and sheer electric rush of surrendering to someone so powerful without sounding like one of those silly heroines?

She raised an eyebrow, her lips curving into a knowing smile. “There’s nothing wrong with a bit of rough passion, Babs. Sometimes a girl just needs to be ravished.” She tossed the spaghetti into the pot of boiling water.

“Oh God, I needed it,” I said, the confession slipping out before I could stop it.

“I bet.” She gave me a sideways glance, but there was no malice in her tone—only the supportive understanding of an older sister who had been through it all and seen far more of life than me.

“He has this way of commanding me. No one’s ever talked to me like that before. And no one’s made me feel the way he does. I didn’t even know I could feel like that. It’s…exhilarating,” I finished, my voice trailing off as I was flooded with memories of Victor’s touch, his voice, the raw conviction behind every word and glance.

Edith leaned against the counter, crossing her arms over her chest. “It sounds like you’ve already made up your mind,” she said, her voice more serious now. “That you’re all in with him.”

I looked down at my hands, twisting them in my lap. “It’s not that simple. Frank?—”

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