Page 24 of Hooked On Victor
Arms crossed over his chest.
The posture was defensive, but his eyes were anything but.
He watched her with that same, steady, raw honesty that had unraveled her last night.
“Most women leave,” he said simply.
She took a breath that trembled on the way in.
“I’m not most women.”
His mouth quirked, but it wasn’t a smile. Not really.
“No,” he said. Voice soft. Resigned. Grateful.
“You’re not.”
Silence spread between them again.
But it wasn’t empty.
It was heavy.
Full of everything they weren’t saying.
He picked up his mug again, sipped, set it down with slow precision. Like he needed something to do.
When he spoke, his voice was different.
Lower.
Sharper.
“Do you know who I am, Rose?”
She blinked.
Her fingers tightened on the mug.
“You’re Victor Roman,” she said carefully, voice rising with each word. “You wreck bikes and sketch cathedrals and hide behind your smirk when you’re scared.”
He let out a sound that was half-laugh, half-sigh.
Then he shook his head once.
“No.”
The word dropped like a stone into water.
He pushed off the counter.
Came closer.
She didn’t move.
His eyes didn’t waver.
“That’s the version I let people see,” he said, voice cracking just slightly.
