Page 84 of Letters From Victor

Heat rose to my cheeks, and I turned toward the counter and reached for a mug. “Coffee?” I poured the dark, steaming liquid into his cup.

He didn’t let go of me immediately, his hands lingering on my hips before he stepped back. I handed him the cup.

“I made it extra strong,” I said, watching as the tendrils of steam curled around his face.

“Just how I like it.” He inhaled deeply, savoring the aroma before bringing the cup to his lips. Our eyes locked over the rim, the steam curling between us like a whisper. “You always know how to give me exactly what I crave.”

I shrugged, playing it cool. “It’s not that hard to remember how you take your coffee.” His innuendo was not lost on me, but I felt delightfully coy.

He took a slow sip of his coffee. “No other secretary has ever paid as much attention to my preferences as you.”

“And I hope no future secretary ever does.”

Victor chuckled, a deep, warm sound that sent a pleasant shiver through me. “You know, I really do miss having you in the office.”

“Oh?” I raised an eyebrow. “Is it the coffee you miss most?”

He set his cup on the counter and stepped closer, his hands sliding around my waist again. “The coffee is certainly a part of it,” he said with a teasing lilt. “Myrtle does her best, but she wouldn’t know strong coffee if it bit her in the ass.” He kissed the tender spot behind my ear. “But you also make a stellar secretary. No one else keeps me in line the way you do.”

“So it’s my exceptional filing skills you miss?” I let the moment stretch before adding, “Or my ability to take dictation?”

He kissed down the column of my neck to my collarbone. “Especiallyyour ability to take dictation.” He pulled back and looked at me, desire smoldering in his dark eyes.

“Maybe you should hire me back,” I suggested, running a finger along the lapel of his suit jacket.

“Tempting…but think of my poor lawyer. We’ve already pushed him to his limit by bending his rules. Hiring you back would send him straight into an early grave. And that would certainly throw a wrench in the divorce.”

“Poor Larry. We can’t do that to him. Not when he’s gotten us this far.”

“But…” He slid his hands down to rest firmly on my backside. “Do you know what I miss most about having you at the office?”

I pressed my hips into him. “Do tell.”

He whispered in my ear. “Having you right where I want you—bent over my desk.”

I pulled away—slowly, teasing. “It’s a wonder you get anything done, Mr. Cardello.”

Victor smiled. “What can I say? You inspire me.” He chuckled but then turned serious.

“What is it?”

“Last night,” he said, “was everything I needed. Everythingweneeded. It reminded me of what we’re fighting for.” He gestured around the kitchen. “This is going to be our life. You and me. And Frankie, of course. I’m so anxious to get started, and we’re close, baby.”

He produced a black leather box from his jacket pocket. It was small, about the size of a deck of playing cards, with gold braiding along the edges. My heart skipped. It wasn’t the size of a typical jewelry box, and that only made the curiosity burn hotter.

“What’s this?” I asked, taking the box from his outstretched hand.

“Open it.”

The box creaked and snapped as I opened it. Inside, pinned atop a bed of cream-colored satin, lay a military medal. I looked up at him.

“You never told me you were awarded a Bronze Star in the war.”

He scratched the back of his neck as he glanced down at it, almost sheepishly. “Twice, actually.” He pointed to the tiny metal medallion at the top of the red and blue ribbon. “That stands for a second award.”

“Victor, this is?—”

“It’s important that you understand what I’m giving you,” he interrupted gently. “This isn’t just a token. I can give you all the glittering jewels you’d ever want. But this is a piece of me. It’s apromise. Until I can put a ring on your finger, I want you to have this.”

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