Victor: Her Ruthless Owner: The VICTOR Trilogy Book 2 [50 Loving States, Rhode Island] (Ruthless Triad)

by Theodora Taylor

  I don’t want to call Elizabeth Ann Margaret untalented. But construction on the state-of-the-art Loge Student Center began her freshman year at RhIDS. And she claimed that she’d decided to get an MFA in experimental animation because all the jobs at commercial animation houses were just so utterly boring. But I’d heard it from another undergrad program mate of ours that since her father no longer had powerful connections, she couldn’t find a house willing to hire her based on her skills alone.

  In any case, she was always giving me backhanded compliments. Or worse, taking way more credit on our group projects than she should have.

  “Wow. How do you think she affords all of that?” the person she was gossiping with asked.

  The other voice was male, and I also recognized it right away. It belonged to Asher Peretz. He was a playwright from Carnegie Mellon’s MFA Dramatic Writing program. But he was doing an interdisciplinary thesis year with our class because he had written an experimental play that revolved around an animated character having to decide whether to stay in his cartoon world or join our real one.

  He was really cute in a bookish guy next door kind of way. Like, he was that actually hot guy Hollywood cast in films to play the nerd. They just threw a pair of glasses on him so that people watching wouldn’t say, “Hey, none of the nerds at my school look like that!”

  So yeah, Asher was Hollywood nerd hot. But he was also friendly. He contributed to class discussions without monopolizing it like so many of the other guys did. And his feedback was always helpful and encouraging. He was just super accessible. Like an Israeli Paul Rudd.

  I wasn’t surprised to hear Elizabeth Ann Margaret talking about me. But I was taken aback to hear him asking her follow-up questions. He’d never been anything but courteous to me. He’d even asked to hang out a few times like maybe he wanted to be more than friends.

  Not that I took him up on any of his invitations. Letting group meetings happen at my house occasionally was as close as I ever got to socializing with the opposite sex. This mess with Victor was bad enough as it was. It wouldn’t have been fair to drag a nice guy like Asher into it.

  At least, I’d thought he was nice. But here he was, gossiping about me with Elizabeth Ann Margaret behind my back.

  “You didn’t hear it from me,” she told him in a dramatic hush-hush voice. “But our working theory is that Dawn’s the daughter of a drug kingpin or something. I mean, she has a car with a driver that takes her everywhere. And she’s the only black person in the MFA program who isn’t here on scholarship. How else could she afford her lifestyle?”

  “Wow, so you’re pretty sure her marriage is a sham?” Asher asked. His voice was a little breathless, like he was hanging on Elizabeth Ann Margaret’s every word.

  “No way she’s married. She’s a total liar,” Elizabeth Ann Margaret answered. “It’s probably just part of her cover story. I let her get away with it on account of us being such good friends. But I’m totally going to call her out on it before graduation.”

  Okay, that was enough.

  “Nice to know what you really think of me, bestie,” I said, walking around the corner. “I’ll remember that the next time we’re assigned to a group project.”

  Both their eyes widened. And I couldn’t help but take a mental picture. If I ever needed to draw two people caught gossiping, this was the reference I’d use.

  But other than that mental photo, I breezed right past them. I didn’t want to give either of them the satisfaction of knowing that they had enough power to hurt my feelings. The husband they were so sure I didn’t have had already done enough of that.

  “Dawn! Dawn! Wait up!” Asher called after me as I pushed out of Eastland Hall, where RhIDS’s school of animation lived.

  I kept on walking, but I wasn’t much faster in my checkered Vans than I’d been in my high school uniform Mary Janes. Asher quickly caught up with me.

  “Hey, that wasn’t what it looked like,” he said, falling in step beside me.

  Yeah, sure it wasn’t. Whatever. I didn’t answer; I didn’t want to waste any breath talking to his fake ass.

  But just as I reached the path leading to where the black Audi was waiting to pick me up, Asher caught me by my arm. “Please, Dawn. I’m sorry. I just want to say I’m sorry!”

  I snatched my arm back like he’d burned it. It was too far away for me to see more than the outline of the man I still simply referred to as “the day guard” going on nine years. But I knew he was watching. He was always watching. And most likely reporting all of it back to Victor.

  So I did my best to appear outwardly calm as I told Asher, “You don’t have to say you’re sorry for not being who you pretended to be. I’m used to it.”

  Asher’s expression became sympathetic. “From who? Your husband?”

  I narrowed my eyes at him. “I thought you and Elizabeth Ann Margaret decided I couldn’t possibly have a husband. That I was a total liar.”

  Asher winced. “No, Elizabeth Ann Margaret said that.”

  He splayed a hand across his chest. “I never did. And I’m sorry. I’m sorry I asked her about you behind your back.”

  His tone was so sincerely apologetic. My anger faded a little. But still, I had to ask. “Why? Why were you talking to her about me? I thought you were nice.”

  “I am nice,” he quickly assured me. “I’m also really into you. And I don’t want to sound like a creep, but I was kind of hoping she was telling the truth. If you’re lying about having a husband, that would mean I stood a chance with you. And I’d…”

  He looked down at the ground shyly, then back up. “I’d like to stand a chance with you.”

  Wow…

  My heart melted. Then sank with regret.

  Five more months. If he’d waited to approach me for five more months, I would’ve happily played my part in this rom-com moment. I would’ve confessed that I did have a husband, but we have been living apart for years and that we were finally getting a divorce. I might even have asked for help moving into the short-term apartment I was already planning to buy because I didn’t want to live in that dream home disguised as a prison for a moment longer than I had to after Victor and I separated.

  I would’ve kissed him as a thank you for admitting he liked me. And then, eventually, after two or three dates, I would have invited him into my bed. I would’ve had sex for the first time in ten years with someone who wasn’t Victor.

  I would’ve happily done all of that. Because Asher had been nice to me. Because this was how relationships were supposed to go. The guy was supposed to ask you out. Then you were supposed to date. Then you are supposed to have sex because you wanted to, not because of some weird power dynamic game you were both trying to win.

  But this wasn’t five months from now. It was now. And I did have a husband. One whose henchman was watching me as we spoke.

  So I swallowed and said, “I can’t. I can’t go out with you.”

  Disappointment shadowed over Asher’s hope. He was a good guy who really did seem to like me. And I couldn’t have felt worse.

  But in the next moment, an idea occurred to me, so I pushed down my guilt to say, “I might reconsider in five months after we’ve graduated…if you convince Jacoby Pirelli to let you change thesis presentation groups with me.”

  Asher’s face screwed up with confusion. “I’m in Group A. Our presentations are scheduled for that Wednesday. Group B gets to go on a Friday. That means you can have a party afterward. Most people would kill to be in Group B.”

  Yes, and most people also didn’t have a psycho husband at the top of their list of secret things they never talked about.

  “I know,” I answered Asher out loud. “But I don’t want that slot.”

  He shook his head. “Is this about you not having enough confidence in yourself? Love Origins is amazing. I’m pretty sure that’s why Pirelli gave you one of the prime Group B spots. And that’s probably why Elizabeth Ann Margaret is so jealous of you.”

&nbs
p; My stomach flip-flopped, not quite knowing what to do with that string of compliments. Other than insist anyway, “I can’t do my presentation on that day.”

  “Why not?” he asked with a baffled look.

  I sighed. I was tired. So tired of lying. So tired of pretending that I was a regular woman just like everyone else in the program. Someone with choices and self-agency.

  “I just can’t. I have other plans on that day. Plans that can’t be changed,” I answered, telling him a super vague version of the truth.

  He considered my words, his expression sharp and calculating. “Are these plans the reason you want me to ask you out in June? Like maybe May 25th is a court date? Or the day some kind of separation papers will be filed?”

  My cheeks warmed. “Yes, something like that.”

  He nodded, his handsome face lighting up with a grin. “In that case, I will volunteer to switch to your extremely prime spot. Then I’ll ask you again in five months.”

  Five months…

  I smiled, liking the thought of this nightmare finally being over in five more months.

  But Asher must have mistaken my answering smile for an invitation. Instead of going straight to Jacoby’s office, he stepped forward and hugged me.

  He hugged me right in front of my guard!

  I wanted to shove him away. But it had been so long…so long since someone had touched me with any sort of genuine affection. For one broken moment, I allowed myself to give in to the human contact. I let my forehead fall onto his shoulder and breathed in all that guy that didn’t hate me.

  But then I quickly pulled away.

  It was like taking the mandatory swimming classes at my Japanese high school. This was how you were supposed to swim. Take as many strokes as you can. Turn your head to the side, then take a quick breath, and plunge back into the water that could drown you. Eventually, the teacher wanted you to learn to do this so well, you only had to come up for one sip of air per length when you were racing.

  Five more months.

  I took a sip of air, then stepped back from Asher. “I’m sorry. I should… I have to go. I don’t want to keep my driver waiting.”

  “Yeah, of course,” he answered with a little wave.

  I turned and left. I hadn’t bothered with religion much since moving back to the states. Like many Korean immigrants, my mother was a dedicated Presbyterian. But her fervor hadn’t passed down to me. And I hadn’t darkened a church’s door since stepping foot on Mount Holyoke’s campus.

  But I prayed as I walked to the Audi. Prayed that the guard hadn’t been tracking my every move. That after years of watching me have mostly innocuous conversations with my fellow grad students, he hadn’t bothered to spy this time. Maybe he’d been reading something on his phone. Once or twice I’d been able to let myself into the car because he hadn’t seen me coming. Today could be one of those kind of days.

  But it wasn’t.

  The day guard climbed out of the front seat as soon as I got within a meter of the car and opened the door for me.

  “What was that all about?” he asked as soon as we were both settled in our respective seats.

  I was in my early 30s now and a lot faster on my feet. “He thinks I’m doing him a favor by offering to switch my presentation slot from Friday, May 25th to the previous Wednesday. He was thanking me. That’s all.”

  The day guard grunted. But other than that, he didn’t answer. I could only hope that meant he believed me.

  Five more months….

  16

  VICTOR

  It was time to meet his bride. Not the one he was currently keeping a prisoner in Providence, but the woman who would seal the alliance between the 24K and The Silent Triad.

  Victor arrived at Kuang’s house in Connecticut with Han and Phantom flanking him on either side. In truth, Han would’ve been enough for a light meeting such as this. But Phantom had insisted on coming along for reasons that had nothing to do with solidarity.

  “Betcha 1000 bucks she’s a dog,” Phantom had challenged shortly after Han arranged a meeting to coincide with the end of Nora Kuang’s winter break on Victor’s behalf. “Kuang would’ve offered to show you her picture if she was anything to look at.”

  Han had frowned at Phantom’s perhaps valid point. “I could try to get a recent picture for you.”

  “That won’t be necessary,” Victor had told his brother. “No matter what she looks like, the outcome will be the same.”

  He would marry Kuang’s daughter if that was what finalizing the partnership between their two triads would take.

  For once, they didn’t meet their business partner at his Manhattan apartment. On the day of the meeting, they made their way up to his compound in Connecticut. There was so much security roaming the grounds. They put Victor in mind of a small army. Kuang’s paranoia was never spoken out loud, but it was getting noisier with every passing year.

  Two guards in matching leather jackets escorted Victor, Han, and Phantom into a space that looked like an impressive living room, though one of the guards had referred to it as the study. There were no books or shelving, no desk, or any other office paraphernalia. Fine art lined the walls, and the floors were covered in Persian carpets. There were also a few sculptures on display, forged from dark gray metal.

  The 24K Dragon met them at the door and escorted them over to the “study’s” one seating area: two maple brown leather couches that sat directly across from each other, with an antique Chinese table standing between them like a referee.

  “Sit! Sit!” Kuang said, taking a seat on the couch that faced the door.

  Victor hated sitting with his back to the door, but he took a seat nonetheless, as did Phantom and Han.

  Besides the seating arrangements, Kuang was much more accommodating here than he was in his city apartment. He asked them what they wanted and had them put in orders with his footman. This was a break from his usual MO. Typically, Kuang’s choice of drinks simply appeared underneath an umbrella of expectation that his guests would drink whatever he served them.

  They talked for quite a while. Mostly about business. Not once did the subject of Kuang’s daughter come up. After an hour or so, Victor began to wonder if he hadn’t mistaken the purpose of this meeting.

  Perhaps “come meet my daughter” had been some sort of euphemism for come to my house in Connecticut and let me show off all my fine things and my excess of security guards while we talk about what we always talk about.

  However, after about two hours, Kuang sighed and said, “I suppose we should get this over with.”

  He nodded toward an attendant, who had been hovering near the door since they’d arrived. “Tell my daughter it is time.”

  The door opened and closed behind them. But then opened again almost immediately.

  The daughter must’ve been waiting nearby. Perhaps even in the hallway that they had walked down to get to the study. Victor recalled there’d been a hard, antique bench that had not looked at all comfortable.

  He wondered if Kuang had been stalling because she was late for the meeting or because he had been making her wait.

  Either way, Victor fixed a passive look on his face. It wouldn’t do for him to let it show if she truly was as unappealing as Phantom had predicted.

  But to his shock, the woman who entered the room was gorgeous. Kuang had married a Chinese actress from the days when Mafia used to run the Chinese studio system. She’d been quite beautiful.

  Indeed, there had been no need for Han to secure a photo of Victor’s future bride. They could have simply googled last century movie posters featuring that 90s-era actress. She was her famous mother’s spitting image with long black hair, a heart-shaped face, and small, dainty features. She was exquisite. Simply exquisite.

  Victor could almost hear his cousin silently cursing. He had definitely lost the bet.

  “I will leave you alone to talk,” Kuang told them.

  The daughter nodded deferentially to her father befo
re he departed from the room. After he left, she didn’t take the seat he’d vacated, but one slightly to the right of it on the couch. As if she were concerned about insulting Kuang, even in his absence.

  “Would you like anything else to drink?” she asked Victor in perfect CSL.

  “You sign?” Victor asked after a moment of hesitation. It had been so long since he had been anything but silent during one of these meetings that it took a moment for him to start signing as well.

  “Yes, my father put me in classes as soon as you two struck your first deal. Almost ten years ago. He said he had a good feeling about you. Such a good feeling, I had to beg him to let me finish my education.”

  For the first time, it occurred to Victor to ask, “What did you study?”

  “Economics at Cambridge,” she answered, spelling out the school’s name. “But then I decided to go further in grad school and earn an MBA. Father told me I was being silly. But I wanted to be of use to my family. I will graduate in June from the Geneva Institute of Finance in Switzerland.”

  June. That was also when Dawn was officially scheduled to graduate from RhIDS, Victor noted with a pang of guilt. But he pushed that senseless emotion away.

  This woman was younger than Dawn. By eight years. Smart, and obviously at a prime age to start a family. Any Chinese bachelor would consider her an ideal candidate for marriage.

  Also, his relationship with Dawn was purely about revenge. That was what he had told himself. What he needed to be true. So he ignored the guilt twisting his stomach and signed, “You are very smart. And I’m sure you will be a very valuable asset to your family. The 24K and soon The Silent Triad.”

  A shadow fell over her eyes at his words. But before Victor could analyze it, she smiled and signed, “I believe this union has much potential. Should we call my father in for a toast? We bought several bottles of a vintage Dom Perignon just for this occasion.”

  A silent beat passed, tense and expectant. He could sense Han and Phantom holding their collective breath.

  There was no need for them to worry. Victor was clear now. Clearer than he’d been in ten years.