Page 75 of Letters From Victor

“Drink?”

She shook her head, wrapping her arms more tightly around herself.

“Sit, baby,” I soothed, guiding her next to me on the sofa. “Tell me what’s happened.”

“Frank and I had a fight tonight. He knows about us, and everything hit the fan. I know I was supposed to keep up the act, but I guess I’ve blown it now.”

My jaw tightened, a muscle ticking beneath my skin. My mind raced, weighing the fallout. My lawyer was going to have a coronary, but I’d deal with him later.

“It’s fine, darling. We’ll handle it,” I said gently, my voice steady, smoothing over the cracks. “What else?”

Barbara twisted the fabric of her skirt. “He said…he said you’re not who I think you are. That you’re involved in…terrible things.” Her voice cracked, and she dropped her gaze to her lap.

I leaned back, draping my arm across the back of the sofa. My fingers itched for a cigarette, but I resisted the urge. “Do you believe that?”

Her eyes searched mine, desperate, pleading. “I don’t know. Maybe.” She shook her head. “But that’s not what has me bothered.”

I waited, every second stretching like taffy. If she didn’t believe Frank’s accusations about my business, then what could have her so unstrung? Not knowing gnawed at me. I studied her face—the delicate angles, the soft curve of her cheek. Even in distress, she was radiant.

“Victor,” she began, her voice fragile. “Frank told me everything. About his debt to you. About how you wanted me to come work for you as part of it.” She paused, swallowing hard. “He said you’ve lusted after me from the beginning, that I’m just a piece in some long game you’re playing.” Her breath hitched. “That you hired me just to get me here—” The last word cracked in her throat as she gestured around the room, hand trembling. “To get me into your bed.”

Barbara bit her lower lip, a habit she’d picked up when she was trying to hold back tears. Her eyes shimmered, glassy with the threat of a deluge. I reached out, but she recoiled, hugging herself tighter. The rejection stung, sharp and immediate, like a slap.

“Tell me, Victor, is any of it true?”

“Barbara,” I began slowly, like a bomb technician choosing which wire to cut.

She sprang to her feet and pressed a hand to her lips. “Oh God…it is true.”

“Darling, I have never lied to you. There are things I haven’t told you, but I have never lied to you.”

She stood, trembling, her silhouette stark in the subdued lamplight.

I rose slowly, not wanting to startle her, and stepped closer. “Barbara,” I said softly. “You came here because you wanted to hear it from me. So let me tell you.”

Her eyes locked on mine, a fiery blue storm of swirling hurt and hope.

“Yes,” I said, each word a deliberate breath. “It’s true that Frank was in deep with me. It’s true that I saw an opportunity when I first met you, which was why I asked you to work for me. And it’s true that I’ve wanted you from the start.”

She flinched as if struck, but I pressed on.

“But it’s also true that I love you. Desperately, Barbara. And that has changed absolutely everything.”

She stood motionless, carved from ice.

“I’ve never lied to you, darling. If I wanted a conquest, I’d have made my move, had a good time, and been done with it. But I don’t want a conquest. I want you. All of you. For always. And nothing else matters.”

“Then why did you hide the truth from me?”

I nodded. “That was my mistake. But let me fix it, okay?” I put my hands on her shoulders. She didn’t pull away this time, but she was still stiff beneath my touch. “Ask me, Barbara. Anything. I promise, I’ll tell you whatever you want to know. No matter what.”

Barbara narrowed her eyes and drew her lips into a thin line. She looked past me, toward the revolver on the table. “Why do you have a gun out?” she asked, her voice small but steady.

I followed her gaze to the revolver. “Protection.”

She looked back at me, unconvinced. “From whom?”

“From the kind of men who don’t settle disputes with words.” I paused. “I have enemies.”

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