Page 8 of Letters From Victor

6

VICTOR

Iopened the passenger door of my car and gestured for Barbara to slide into the luxurious leather seat.

She hesitated for a moment, her eyes wide. “This is yours?”

I grinned, rocking back on my heels. She ran a gloved hand over the sleek lines of the chassis. The pale cream paint stood out from every other black and dark green car in the garage. “It’s an Aston Martin.”

“I’ve never heard of that.”

I nodded. “Not surprised. It’s an import. Cars are one of my…indulgences.”

Her eyes flickered with uncertainty before she gathered her skirt and slipped into the car. I couldn’t help but appreciate the graceful way her hips swayed, accentuating every curve of her body.

As I rounded the front of the vehicle and slid behind the wheel, her perfume enveloped me—a soft, floral aroma with just a hint of spice. It was refreshing—so different from the cloying, heavy fragrances favored by the women who usually found their way into my orbit.

“Do you have many?” she asked, neatly folding her gloved hands in her lap and crossing her ankles. Such a lady.

“Cars?”

“No. Indulgences.”

I glanced at her, expecting her to avert her eyes down to her lap in a coy play, but her piercing blue eyes met me head-on. I held her gaze for a long moment, the corners of my mouth curling into a smile. “A few.”

The engine roared to life as I turned the key in the ignition, then settled into a low, idle purr. As I eased out of the parking garage, I felt Barbara’s eyes on me. Since she arrived this morning, she’d been studying me with a wary curiosity.

“And what about you, Barbara? What are your indulgences?” I asked, glancing over at her as I merged into traffic.

She blinked, clearly caught off guard. “Oh, I don’t know. I suppose I don’t have any.”

“Come now.” I chuckled. “Everyone has something they enjoy. Something that makes them feel alive.”

Barbara shifted to face the window, her body—and eyes—turned away from me. “I’m not sure I’ve ever let myself have any.”

“Pity.”

I stopped at a red light, the pause giving me a chance to study Barbara more thoroughly. The midday sun illuminated her profile, her delicate features bathed in a golden glow. A strand of blonde hair had escaped from her neat chignon. I had the sudden urge to reach out and tuck it behind her ear, to feel the softness of her skin beneath my fingertips.

Clearing my throat, I focused my attention back on the road as the light turned green. “Well, perhaps it’s time you start.”

“Start what?”

“Indulging yourself. Allowing yourself to experience things that bring you joy, that make you feel alive.”

She let out a soft, humorless laugh. “I’m not sure Frank would approve.”

The mention of her husband’s name sent a flicker of irritation through me. I raised an eyebrow. “And why does that matter?”

Barbara shifted in her seat, the leather creaking beneath her. She stared out the windshield, her eyes following the flow of traffic. “It’s not that simple, Victor. I have responsibilities, obligations. To my husband, to my son.”

I drummed my fingers on the steering wheel, considering her words. “And what about your obligations to yourself, Barbara? Don’t you deserve to pursue your own happiness?”

I glanced at her as she turned to look at me again, her eyes wide and searching. “I…I’m not sure I know how to do that anymore. Or if I ever did.”

I shifted gears and accelerated around a slow-moving truck. The Aston Martin responded beautifully, the engine growling with power. “Let me help you rediscover it then.”

“Victor, I’m married. Happily married.” But there was a momentary waver.

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