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Shame for the secret parts of me that feel pleasure during those forbidden moments when I come undone in his arms like a slut.
Or a cheater.
I feel like I’m cheating on Viktor now even just thinking about Desmier.
I stare at the phone, wanting to answer, but the consequences of doing so stop me. I’m supposed to see Viktor sometime in the next two weeks. Talking to him now might jeopardize that.
The phone rings on and on and on, quivering in my hands.
Or is that me?
I don’t know. What I do know is, if I know what’s good for me, I mustn’t answer the phone.
I need to let it ring out and tell Viktor I’m sorry when I get to see him.
That’s what I need to do but I don’t want to because, God, this is Viktor.
The man I used to call my prince.
How can I ignore his call?
He knows he can’t call me because I told him in theonetext I was allowed to send. And he would have known anyway.
But I’m still the same girl who screamed with delight when Dad first allowed him to call me, and I’m still the same girl who swooned every time he sent me a message.
Lorelai said Viktor was trying to get me back.
What if he found a way?
Even if he didn’t, wouldn’t it just be good to hear his voice?
Or maybe it might fix me. Remembering how I loved him always made me stronger.
That thought does it. I answer the call. The ringing stops and I press the phone to my ear.
“Anastasia. Baby is that you?” Viktor’s deep voice fills me with the same elation I used to feel every time I was with him. But then I remember the danger.
“Viktor, I can’t talk. Talking to you is going to make it worse for me. Desmier is—”
“I don’t give a fuck. I needed to see how you are.” His tone, that authoritative yet protective tenor, envelopes me. It’s a reminder of what felt safe and what we used to be. “I’m going crazy not knowing what’s happening to you.”
My breath hitches and the backs of my eyes sting with those tears that still want to fall. “I’m okay. I wish things were different.”
“I miss you.”
“I miss you too.”
“Awww, isn’t this touching.” Desmier’s voice carries across the room, crashing into me like a tsunami.
My body jolts, then flushes with a maddening cacophony of fear and heat from his piercing stare.
He’s leaning against the door frame, his black Armani suit making him look like the businessman he’s supposed to be. But he still looks like the Grim Reaper to me.
Being caught again doing something I’m not supposed to do is just so typical of my fucking bad luck.
So no, Ehlga, I don’t believe your predictions of success and happiness. The idea of wishing for either of those feel like bullshit to me.
“Anastasia, what’s happening?” Viktor’s voice speeds up in my ear, like when you put a song on fast forward for far too long. “Is Desmier there?”
