Uncertainty made her voice shake, “Victor?”
“Try again.”
The unfamiliar voice stopped her cold and silence as thick as mud oozed between them. She knew the moment she felt his mouth on her that that it wasn’t Victor. She knew too well the shape and fullness of his lips. When she felt her nipples being tweaked, she reached up and ripped her blindfold off.
The man who had made the lewd remark at the bar was staring down at her with drowsy, whiskey-colored eyes and the amusement reflected back in them was hard to miss.
“You never did tell me how much.” His words rolled off his tongue in a smooth southern drawl.
She pushed against his chest to get him out of her face, but he crushed her into the bed with the weight of his body.
“Get off of me!” she yelled.
When she felt his erection pressing into her belly, she tried to knee him in the groin, but he was quick and dodged her attack.
“I’m only doing as I was told. Shouldn’t you be doing the same?” The tight note in his voice hinted at agitation.
Unable to evade, she went still like a cornered animal, and took a deep breath against the panic rioting within her. “Doing what who told you? Victor?”
“I don’t know anyone named Victor, but Mr. Black paid me a handsome fee to show you a good time,” he slid his hand up her skirt again.
The loud ringing in her ears and bitter hatred that welled up inside her made her thrash violently against the man until his grip loosened. She rolled off the bed and reached for the nearest thing she could clamp her fingers onto. With a lamp in her hand and ready to bash the man’s head in, the door to the hotel room flew open. Victor rushed toward her, his movements quick but restrained and controlled when he grabbed her hands to rein her in.
“Your services are no longer needed,” he glanced over his shoulder at the man.
The stranger smiled and shook his head as he climbed off the bed. “Whatever. You two have issues.”
The irony in his statement was like a slap in the face. Damn straight they had issues – the biggest of which was Mr. Black.
As soon as the man exited the room, Elsa shoved Mr. Black. Ready to slap the hell out of him for having put her in danger when Victor had just promised her that he would never do that again, she lifted her hand.
“How could you?” she screeched as she lunged toward him, ready to strike.
“Don’t,” he gritted his teeth as he snatched her wrist. “You know how I feel about that!”
Yes, she did. The mental image of a sixteen year old Victor being slapped and attacked by his mother flashed in her mind. Lowering her hand, she glared at him. “He could’ve hurt me! He could’ve raped me or worse! What the fuck is wrong with you? Is the pain of having to share your past with me worth putting me through that?”
He winced and looked offended. “I never would’ve let things go that far.”
Of all the ridiculous things she had heard, this sat at the top of the list.
He stalked toward her and tugged her close, but she shoved hard against his chest.
“Don’t touch me!” she felt a sob at the back of her throat. “I’m still freaked out about what happened the other night and then this?” She sank into a nearby chair with her arms crossed over her chest. “What if you hadn’t gotten here in time? Did your idiotic plan ever make concessions for that little glitch?”
Irritation flashed across his face and he roughly grabbed her upper arm, yanked her out of the chair, and got in her face.
“I was right next door. I saw everything.” He pointed toward a tiny, barely visible camera sitting on the desk. “You were on my radar, Elsa. You’re always on my radar. You have been since the first Goddamn day I saw you at the pub.” He let out a loud sigh of exasperation and let her go. “My idiotic plan wasn’t meant to be punishment. It was intended to be an exercise in trust.”
Grabbing a hold of the lapels of his suit jacket, Elsa pulled him close. “This isn’t the kind of thing that’s going to earn my trust. Maybe you should clue Mr. Black in on that.”
“This had nothing to do with Mr. Black.” He swept her hands away. “I only used that name as a decoy.” He pushed her onto the bed. “Now I’m done talking about this.”
Elsa was furious for having been put in such a compromising position in the name of trust. “Well, I’m not done talking about it. Explain to me how the hell this was supposed to make me trust you?” she demanded.
Victor threw his arms up in the air and his face reddened with frustration. Clearly he was a man who had never had his intentions and motivations questioned, but she wasn’t going to let this die just because he said he was done talking about it. She wanted an explanation or she was walking out the door.
“Look,” he snarled as if sensing her rising agitation. “I’m sorry you couldn’t move past your own fears to see the whole point of this exercise. I’m sorry that you were afraid and I’m sorry…” he paused as if hearing his own cold words. “I’m just… sorry. For everything.”
19: Enraptured
Elsa stared wide-eyed at him as he stood above her, stunned by his apology.
“I told you the other day that I would never hurt you again,” his tone softened. “I just wanted to prove to you that I would never allow anyone else to hurt you. That man was only instructed to get you worked up. I know that sounds… sick and twisted, but I wanted to appease both sides of me with this exercise. The side that feels responsible for your safety and the other side of me that loves pushing your limits.”
When he ran his hand through his thick, dark hair and sighed regretfully, a knot of something unexpected wedged in her throat – forgiveness. She tried to swallow it, but it stuck there. She wanted to forgive him, but she wasn’t ready for that yet.
He blew out a breath and reached up to unhook the buttons of his coat as his composure resurfaced. The sorrowful man who had been present just seconds before was gone, and in front of her stood Victor, in all his sexy confidence. Her anger slowly dissipated and the urge to leave, left.
A glance around the room made him walk toward the nightstand where he retrieved the television remote. He punched a few buttons on it and on a small box he removed from his pants pocket. The gray static of a blank channel flickered and Elsa was faced with a blonde-haired woman who looked a lot like herself lying on the bed.
He reached for her hand and laced his fingers through hers as he lay down next to her. “Look how beautiful you look on screen.”
She looked long and hard at the image she was seeing. It was surreal to see herself through his eyes. She released his hand and sat on the edge of the bed, staring at herself, studying and scrutinizing her own imagine, trying to figure out what it was he saw in her. His hands gripped her shoulders and jerked her close again as he sat behind her.
“You’re so Goddamn sexy,” he swept the long fake hair to the side. “Look at us,” he whispered as his hands moved across her shoulders and around to her breasts. “Can’t you see what I see?”
She shook her head. She didn’t see it. She wasn’t beautiful. At most, she was above average. She tugged the wig off and tossed it to the floor to see her true image. Victor was quick to remove the hairnet and untangle the mess of sweaty red hair on her head by combing his fingers through it.
“Do you see it now?”
The urgency in his voice was moving. She wanted to see what he saw. She wanted to be in his head and see things through his eyes. She turned her head side to side. Readjusted her body. Sat up straighter. Pushed her chest out. No. She didn’t see it.