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“He’s not like you.”
“He couldn’t have hurt Lucas like that unless he knew what he was doing. I don’t need to know much about him to know we’re cut from the same cloth, to know he’s me, just thirty years younger.”
I could feel the pulse in my neck. Like a drum.
“You accept him, but not me?” He tempered his voice, letting it grow quiet in volume but loud in emotion. “It’s okay for him to kill people, but not me? Is he an arms dealer? Is he a trafficker? Those things are okay, but drugs are off-limits?”
My eyes shifted to the window.
“As much as it hurt me, I understood your decision to walk away. But now, I think you’re just a hypocrite.”
I looked at him again. “He’snotlike you. He wouldn’t let me get raped. He wouldn’t let me be murdered.” He had the grace to blink, to shift his gaze away when I reminded him of his unforgivable mistake. “When someone crosses me, he protects me. Your son-in-law gave your daughter a black eye, and you behave like it’s nothing. Your son-in-law tried to punch me, and it’s inconsequential to you. No, you’renothingalike.”
“Victor stopped it—”
“Youshould have stopped it. How can I stay here when I know you won’t protect me? It’s open season, and I’ve got a fucking target on my back.”
He looked away completely.
“He’s not the man I’ll marry, but he’s the one I need right now. If you don’t want to deal with him again, then don’t fuck with me.” I rose to my feet and prepared to walk out. “Those are words I should be able to say about you…but I can’t.”
* * *
“Laura.”
I’d just stepped out of the double doors when I heard his voice from behind me. I pretended I hadn’t heard him and continued forward.
“Laura.”
I stopped and gave a loud sigh. “Yes?”
Victor appeared at my side. In a short-sleeved shirt and dark jeans, he didn’t look cold despite the springtime chill. There’d been more showers than sunshine this year. His eyes quickly took me in and assessed my unease. “Let’s get a coffee.”
“Why?” I blurted.
He looked slightly taken aback. “I’d like to talk to you, and I can tell you don’t want to be here a moment longer than you have to.”
I headed out the iron gates that separated the property from the public street. “Fine.”
In silence, we walked a couple blocks until we stopped at the first café we could find. I ordered an Americano when I’d prefer alcohol, and he got the same thing. Because I wanted some comfort food, I grabbed a muffin too.
We sat together at a small table, the café empty because it was afternoon and everyone was having lunch. Victor sat there, his eyes on me nearly the entire time, looking at me like I was a bomb that might go off if he touched the wrong wire.
I picked at the poppy seed muffin, sticking to the top because that was the best part.
“You still do that?”
I grabbed a small chunk and put it in my mouth as I looked at him. “What?”
“You only eat the top.”
“Well, the rest of it sucks.”
He showed a small glimmer of a smile.
“What did you want to talk about, Victor?” I needed to return to Paris. I had clients who needed their clothes, and I knew Bartholomew needed to get back so he could…do whatever he did in the middle of the night.
“How’d the conversation go with your father?”
