***
Seeing someone get shot in the movies didn’t compare to the real thing. Hell, it didn’t come anywhere close. The shot was louder. The blood redder and thicker; the smell, ferrous and pungent. The screams, more horrifying.
Elsa had just witnessed Victor shoot a man down in her defense. The man wasn’t dead, though. Victor had merely maimed him.
Seeing him in action shone a whole new light on him. She knew what his job entailed to a certain degree, but to see him fight a man and risk his life for her, made her yearn for the kind of man she could never have; for the man she could never have… Victor.
Police and emergency services were quick to respond, whisking away the asshole who had been hell bent on taking her life. Confused at why he had been so determined to hurt her and still stunned, she waited in a police cruiser while Victor spoke to several officers. It wasn’t long before the news reporters showed up and Victor kicked into action once more, removing her from the scene and away from all the prying eyes.
The drive to the police station was unbearably quiet. When she opened her mouth to speak, Victor put his hand up to silence her.
“I’m thinking,” was all he said.
The vehicle was dark and only the dash lights shined on his face, but even in the darkness, Elsa could see his gears turning. His hair was wrecked and he was covered in dirt and mud from his tussle, but he never looked more handsome in her eyes. He had fought for her. He had saved her. And Mr. Black was nowhere to be seen.
Once delivered into the hands of the police, she sat with a blanket wrapped around her shoulders as the scene replayed on a continual loop in her head. Wind. Snow. Black eyes. A knife. Fear gripping her. A scream. Victor. A gun. Blood. Victor’s arms around her. His calm voice calling the police on his cell phone. Waiting for the authorities. His soothing voice whispered in her ear as she shook from the adrenaline rush. Pained moans from the stranger. Victor’s fingers in her hair. His mouth on hers.
The next five hours were a blur of questions and written statements. Nail scrapings. A physical exam. More questions. The same questions. Over and over. She just wanted to go home and forget about the fact that someone had tried to kill her.
Just after eight o’clock that evening, Victor carried her from his car into 2500 East Grace Street. It seemed he was always content to carry her as if she was a fragile child who couldn't stand on her own. And always, she was content to oblige him.
Everything about Victor was just a trick of light. The way he held her. The warmth of his breath against her cheek as he laid her down in his bed. The softness of his flesh against hers…
Cradled in his arms, she inhaled his masculine scent and wondered if there would ever come a day when she could smell his cologne without being reminded of their past. Or if there would ever be a time when she could look into his brilliant eyes without seeing Mr. Black lurking behind them.
But where did the woman in his apartment and the man in the alley fit into all this? Or was everything just random? A seed of doubt lingering in her mind began to rapidly grow out of control as she recalled the scene yet again. Victor’s perfectly timed entrance… The smile exchanged between the two of them… The slight adjustment of his aim… His calm demeanor after the event…
There was no such thing as random in Victor’s world. Everything was deliberate. Always.
He truly was a man of many faces. Her stalker. Her punisher. Her Dominant. Her savior. And the man who was wrecking her life. Again.
15: Denial
Victor lay in bed for hours, restless and wrestling with what had happened in that dark alley. Giving up on the hope that he would get any rest, he dug out his case files and pored over every last detail, praying he would see the one thing he had missed.
He woke late on Sunday morning after having dozed off next to Elsa. When his eyes opened, she was seated next to him, fully dressed and watching him intensely. She had a look of distress on her face and the only sound in the room was her quick and shallow breathing.
He sat up and swung his legs off the edge of the bed. “Are you going somewhere?”
“Not likely with the half foot of snow outside,” an irritated snarl curled her lips.
“Like that’s my fault?” He stood and turned his face to the window to see a complete white out.
“You didn’t know a storm was coming?” she continued to glare at him.
For a moment, he wondered what kind of storm she was referring to. “No. Did you?”
“Who was that woman?” she abruptly changed the subject.
So that’s what this was about. Jealousy.
An unintentional smile curved his lips upward, visibly infuriating her. “The way you reacted with Emily and…
Her rage simmered. “So she is another chapter.”
“Elsa,” he leaned into her but she pulled away.
“Are you just tying up loose ends with her, too?” She stood and moved to other side of the room. “Picking up where you left off in the game with her? Making threats and promises to her?”
“Are you done?” he asked sternly before continuing his interrupted statement. “First of alclass="underline" I didn’t invite her here. She showed up. I shouldn’t have to explain myself, but the way you acted the night of your birthday with that man and now finding out who that woman is… where the hell do you get off being jealous when you have a fiancé waiting for you at home? And where the fuck was he last night when you were being attacked?”
“My fiancé has nothing to do with this. And I’m not jealous,” she rebuked a little too vehemently. “Jealousy would imply that I care and I. Don’t. Care.”
Her mouth said one thing, but her body language and eyes said something completely different. He watched her closely, all her slight movements and breathing patterns; the way her eyes caressed his body…
She was falling for him again, despite the fact that she was engaged. Or maybe in spite of the fact. He hadn’t anticipated this little glitch in the game. On some level he had hoped for it, even if he couldn’t admit it before. But now faced with it, he became thrilled at the prospect of winning her heart again and stealing her away from that man.
“If not jealousy, then what?” He crossed his arms over his chest, daring her to try and deny what was obvious to him. Her eyes darted around the room nervously, only confirming what he had already concluded. “You’re falling for me,” he whispered, making her body stiffen.
“Don’t flatter yourself.”
Swiftly, he stood and cut the distance between them, yanking her into his arms. Holding her tightly with one arm around her waist and the other hand firmly holding her jaw, he ghosted his lips against hers. “Tell me you love me.”
“Never,” she thrashed against him.
“Say it. Tell me, Goddamn it.” He needed to hear the words he had let slip out of his hands so easily before.
“I won’t…” her movements became more frantic and her breathing ragged.
“You said you would do anything I asked…” he growled against her ear when she turned her face away.
“Not that. I won’t do that.”
“You said it once before. What’s the difference?”
“I meant it then,” she panted. “And you threw it back in my face…” He had and every moment since then, he regretted it... “You’ll never hear me say it again, especially after what you had that man do to me last night!”
Her words and tone made him loosen his grip on her. “What did you say?”