Page 76 of Letters From Victor

“Enemies like Frank?”

A cold trickle of fear ran down my spine. How much did she know? How much did Frank know, for that matter? And how much had Frank told her in his desperate bid to save their doomed marriage?

“Frank has never been my enemy,” I said gently. “He’s just a man in a bad position.” I watched her closely. “I’ll admit I don’t like him much, but that’s because of how he treats you. He’s never deserved you. But he’s not an enemy. He doesn’t have the courage to do any real harm.”

Barbara studied me, searching for any flicker of deceit. With slow, deliberate movements, she sat beside me and folded her hands on her lap. “Then what kind of enemies? What are you involved in, truly?”

She didn’t look away. And so, against my better judgment, I told her. I laid it all out—the protection schemes, the gambling rooms, the nightclubs, the smuggling, the loan-sharking, the strong-arming. Every sin, one by one, like cards on a table.

When I finally finished, the silence pressed in all around us. I waited for her to scream, to cry, to flee. Instead, she sank back into the sofa.

“Say something, darling.”

She drew in a slow, calculating breath. “You’re a mobster…”

I shrugged. “I’m a businessman. My business just isn’t all legal.”

“Why didn’t you tell me from the beginning?”

I rubbed the back of my neck, feeling the prickle of sweat. “Because I didn’t want you to look at me like you are right now.”

She didn’t blink.

“I hoped that if you got to know me first, it would matter less.” My voice softened. “That you’d see beyond what I do and love me for who I am.”

I reached for her hand and was surprised when she let me take it. Her skin was cool, her grip tentative. I kissed her palm softly, reverently. She didn’t pull away, but she didn’t respond either. The silence crackled like static inside my head.

“What happens now?” she asked at last.

I took a deep breath, knowing my next words could seal my fate. “Now,” I said slowly, “I’m completely at your mercy.”

She looked at me, uncomprehending.

“Barbara, you have enough to turn me into the police and put me away for the rest of my life.” I wrapped her hands around my wrists like handcuffs. “If that’s your choice, then so be it.”

She stared at our hands, her eyes distant and troubled. The silence had a life of its own, pulsing, breathing between us. I could almost hear the ticking of her thoughts, each one a potential bomb waiting to explode.

“Why would you put yourself in this position?” she asked, her voice eerily measured as if she were reading a verdict in court. “You’re not a fool, Victor.”

“No,” I said quietly, “I’m not. But I am a man in love, and that makes me vulnerable in ways I never expected.” I searched her face for any sign of what she was thinking, what she was feeling, but her features were a marble mask, beautiful and unyielding.

“Barbara,” I said, my voice breaking the fragile surface of the quiet. “I’ve never let anyone in like this. Not Dorothy, not my closest associates. No one.” I took a deep breath, the air thick and heavy in my lungs. “I trust you enough to be completelyhonest, completely vulnerable. This is me, laid bare. All my sins, all my desires.”

Her eyes flickered, and for a moment, I thought I saw the ice begin to melt. The tension between us stretched taut—one more breath, one more hesitation, and it would snap.

I stood and removed my jacket, then unfastened my shirt buttons one by one. Barbara watched in silence, her gaze steady, unblinking.

Slowly, deliberately, I dropped to my knees before her. Taking her hands, I placed them flat against my bare chest. “Feel that?” My heart pounded, and my chest heaved against her palms. “This is what you do to me. You have the power, Barbara. You’ve always had the power. You can drive a dagger through my heart, or you can take it as your own.”

She looked down at her hands on my chest, then back into my eyes. Her lips parted, but no words came. The conflict within her was palpable, tearing her between doubt and desire.

“Either way,” I continued, “you’re my queen. Everything I have, everything I am—it’s yours.”

The room seemed to hold its breath. My skin prickled with anticipation, every nerve ending on high alert. I searched her eyes for an answer, for forgiveness, for love.

Slowly, she traced a finger along the line of my sternum. A shiver rippled through me as her touch sent a shockwave through my body. I closed my eyes, bracing for whatever came next.

When I opened them, her face was closer, her breath warm on my lips. Then she kissed me—not a blade to my heart, but a whisper of salvation. I surged forward, my hands tangling in her hair as I kissed her back hungrily, desperately. Like a man reprieved from execution.

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