My heart pounds as Victor brings my hands to his lips, pressing a kiss to my fingertips.
“I love you,” he says simply, the words I’ve waited so long to hear. “I’m in love with you, Theo Winters. And nothing—not this scandal, not Dawson, not losing every fucking sponsor I have—nothing will ever change that.”
His voice cracks slightly, but his eyes never leave mine.
“I should have said it months ago. I should have shouted it from the goddamn rooftops.”
I cup his face in my hands, feeling the stubble against my palms.
Three simple words. I’ve heard them before from others—said them too, sometimes even meaning them in the moment. But Victor sayingI love yousteals my breath and makes my chest ache with something so intense it borders on pain.
“Say it again,” I whisper, needing to be sure I didn’t imagine it.
“I love you,” Victor repeats, his voice stronger now. “And I’m not hiding anymore.”
Those words break something open inside me—a dam I built years ago after too many temporary connections and surface-level affairs. Emotion floods through me, raw and overwhelming.
“I love you too,” I manage, my voice cracking embarrassingly. “God, Victor, I love you so much.”
He pulls me against his chest, and I can feel his heart hammering against mine. We kiss—not the desperate, hungry kisses we’ve shared countless times before, but something gentler. Softer. His lips brush mine with a tenderness that makes my eyes sting.
When we part, I rest my forehead against his. “Never thought three words could wreck me like this.”
Victor’s thumb traces my cheekbone. “Me neither.”
For a moment, we just breathe together, the storm raging outside our bubble momentarily forgotten. Then his phone vibrates again, pulling us back to reality.
I take his face in my hands, meeting his eyes. “Go. Do what you need to do. Damage control, save what you can.”
“And us?” The vulnerability in his question nearly undoes me.
“I’ll be right here,” I promise. “By your side through whatever comes next. We can watch it all burn around us if it comes to that. Forever.”
Victor kisses me one more time before standing up, the fighter’s resolve returning to his expression. “Forever,” he echoes, the word a vow between us.
47
VICTOR
Marco and Ray are already waiting in my office when I arrive. Marco’s expression is grim, his usual steady presence now radiating tension as he stands by the whiteboard. Ray paces by the window, phone pressed to his ear, speaking in clipped sentences to what sounds like our PR contact.
When I enter, they both look at me like I’m a fighter who just took a devastating blow. Their concern pisses me off almost as much as the situation itself.
“Don’t look at me like that,” I say, tossing my phone onto the desk. It’s been vibrating non-stop. “I’m not dead.”
Marco clears his throat. “Three more sponsors pulled out while you were driving here. Southwest Financial, BioMax Supplements, and Hamilton’s Sporting Goods.”
“Dawson’s already signed Jenkins and Alvarez,” Ray adds, hanging up his call. “He’s offering twenty percent above what we were paying.”
I drop into my chair, the leather creaking beneath my weight. On my desk, printouts of the photos are spread out like evidence at a crime scene. Me with Theo. Julian with Elliot. All four of ustogether in various explicit configurations that leave zero room for misinterpretation.
“We have two options,” Ray says, straightening his tie. “We can try to deny?—”
I hold up my hand, cutting him off. “Deny what? That it’s me? That I was there? That I wasn’t balls-deep in Theo?—”
“Okay, fair point,” Marco interrupts. “Denial is off the table.”
I look between them—Marco who’s been with me since day one, Ray who’s guided our business strategy for five years. My most trusted people.
