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

by Theodora Taylor

  I hoped.

  The item I’d purchased from the campus bookstore ticked inside my tote like a bomb. Or an “I like you” note from a teenage gangster.

  Oh, God…what would I do if what I suspected was true?

  I could not jump out of the car fast enough when we got back to the house.

  “Wait, hold up!” Wayne commanded, getting out of the car himself.

  I froze in my tracks. Did he know?

  “Victor wanted me to tell you something for your big date tomorrow,” Wayne said.

  Surprise replaced the fear. “He’s still planning to take me out on a big date after my thesis presentation?”

  “Yep, he told me to take you to meet him someplace special at eight,” Wayne answered. “He also told me to tell you to make sure to wear the dress. I’m assuming you know which one he’s talking about because I don’t.”

  Wow…

  I had cooled down. And apparently, Victor had, too.

  “Yes, I do,” I answered, a new hope sparking in my chest. “Please let him know I’ll definitely wear it.”

  “Will do,” Wayne said before returning to his usual post in the car.

  So, not caught. I let out a secret sigh of relief as I walked toward the front door where one of the extra guards was standing outside.

  “Hey, how are you?” he said as he opened the door for me. And he sounded a little friendlier than usual.

  Or maybe my mood was a little lighter. I couldn’t believe that Victor was still planning on taking me on a big date after my showcase.

  This new turn put the item I’d bought in a different perspective. Maybe…maybe…I should hold off on using it I decided.

  After all, I had a huge presentation tomorrow. This possibly life-changing news wasn’t something I wanted in the back of my mind. And if Victor and I could talk. Like, really talk on our date, then maybe we come up with some way forward that didn’t involve imprisonment or blackmail.

  Maybe Victor and me weren’t a Mika song after all.

  A small kernel of hope nested in my heart as I left the item I’d bought at the campus bookstore in my tote bag.

  Victor was keeping his promise. So I kept mine.

  The following morning after running through my presentation a few more times, I took a long shower and pulled on the yellow cocktail dress he’d bought me. I hadn’t been eating nearly as healthy as I had during our two months of pretend. But it still fitted me perfectly, hugging my curves in a way that felt sophisticated and mature. Like a flower all grown up. And I was right about pairing it with my pink cardi. That one addition dressed it down enough to make it appropriate for a thesis presentation.

  I’d taken out my braids a few days ago. And last night, instead of dealing with the item tucked away in my Aggretsuko tote, I’d done a deep conditioning treatment on my hair. So my long curls were well defined and popping above my outfit. It made me want to Instagram my entire look: Feeling cute? Think I’ll go present my thesis. #thesisonlock #loveorigins #adultingonfleek

  So yeah, I was totally feeling myself as I made my way downstairs to meet Wayne in the carport. I wondered if Victor would surprise me by showing up for my official presentation too. Just in case he did, I once again rehearsed what I’d say to him.

  How I’d apologized and invite him to talk. Like, really talk in a way that would maybe not make the bomb I was carrying in my tote so scary.

  I was no longer a confused college student, but I couldn’t stop playing the what-if game with the night we fell apart. I’d been so excited to talk with him about the presentation after everyone left. What would’ve happened if we got to eat ice cream and chatted like the friends we used to be in high school? If Asher hadn’t kissed me? If I had kept a clear head when Victor came at me with all his accusations?

  If we hadn’t gotten into that horrible fight.

  For some reason, the long-forgotten words the judge spoke to me on my wedding day chose that moment to come back.

  “…with these kind of marriages, the kind that begin in anger, my advice is to release the past, and whatever came before today. This marriage might have begun for certain reasons, but you and he can decide where it goes. You’re husband and wife now. Try to make this into the kind of union you want. I’ve seen others do it.”

  Tears stung my eyes. Regrets that I didn’t know how to fix.

  But maybe I could…maybe I could fix them. Fix us. Maybe tonight Victor and I could finally talk about making our marriage the kind of union we both wanted.

  That small, mutinous hope shivered in my heart as Wayne drove me toward RhIDS.

  Only to die a horrible death just a few minutes later.

  “Wayne? Wayne? What are you doing?” I asked when instead of taking the straight shot to school, he pulled onto the I-95 south. Alarm curdled my stomach. “Where are you going?”

  Wayne didn’t answer, just raised a glass partition I didn’t even know he had.

  I banged on the glass, but Wayne just ignored me. Unfortunately, the back windows were tinted, so there was no way to flag someone down in the next lane. Maybe I could call Jacoby. Ask for just a little bit more time to get there. Or the police.

  I pulled my iPhone out of my bag. But zero bars, even though we were still in the city. I pulled out my secret phone and the same thing. All the curse words came flying out of my mouth.

  There must have been some kind of cell blocker in the car. Something that wasn’t allowing me to call for help.

  I lowered the phone, realizing that this was the plan. It had always been the plan. Victor wanted me to suffer. He was never going to allow me to get my MFA, but he’d strung me along, to make me believe that he would.

  I reviewed his words about my thesis showcase. His exact words.

  He had promised to take me out at eight after my showcase. But he had never stated clearly that I could actually go to my thesis presentation. That had been me, believing what I wanted to believe in order to take his devil deal.

  The cruelty had been letting me get close enough to see what I’d worked so hard for, to almost touch it, and then yanking it away.

  Oh, God…oh, God.

  Tears of frustration replaced my determination to get out of the car in one colossal whoosh. I sobbed as we drove further and further away from my dream. And eventually, I cried myself to sleep.

  I came awake slowly a few hours later. I was still in the car, but it was no longer speeding along a highway. More like stuck in stop-and-go traffic. Also, it was dark, even though that didn’t happen until later these days.

  I sat up to look out the window and found….

  Washington D.C. again. But this time, the cherry blossoms were all gone.

  We slowed, pulling into a long line of black cars, and I somehow knew even before I checked the time on Wayne’s dash that it was getting close to eight o’clock.

  Eventually, the car stopped in front of a huge red brick structure. It wasn’t a building I recognized. But there were signs around the entrance, declaring it the National Building Museum, and well-dressed people were streaming through its open front doors. Many women were dressed in black cocktail dresses, and the men all wore suits or tuxes.

  I shook my head, not understanding.

  But Wayne said, “This is where you get out, kid.”

  So I got out. I figured it was better to be in a crowd of fancy people than stuck in Wayne’s back seat.

  In contrast to my turmoil, it was a lovely, warmish evening beyond the car. I took huge, grateful gulps of the fresh air as I watched Wayne drive away.

  “Sweet pea? What are you doing here?” a voice called out behind me. “I thought you said you couldn’t make it!”

  “Dad?”

  I turned around to see my father, dressed in a tux. Obviously a rental. It was a little baggy around the shoulders. But he looked sophisticated and refined, totally locked and loaded to receive a Lifetime Achievement award.

  An iceberg rose up in my stomach as I began putting two an
d two together. Oh my God.

  “You look great,” he said, pulling me in for a hug. “And I’m not Doll, so I won’t say anything about the weird bag.”

  He curved an arm around my shoulders and guided me along like he used to when I was a kid. “I’m just glad you managed to make it. Especially considering that your mom couldn’t be here. C’mon, I can’t wait to introduce you to all my associates.”

  “Wait, Dad, hold on…”

  “Darrell! Man of the hour, good to see you!” the Attorney General himself approached us before I could get the rest of my protest out.

  I piped down, not wanting to embarrass my dad, who enthusiastically introduced me to the federal appointee. But to my horror, we were getting closer and closer to the entrance.

  “RhIDS! That’s a good school!” the Attorney General boomed. “You must be very proud, Darrell. Very proud!”

  “Sure am,” Dad answered with a straight face.

  “Maybe you can draw us a picture,” Dad suggested to the Attorney General. “Something to commemorate the evening. She used to draw pictures for me all the time when she was a kid.”

  “That’s not really how animators work—” I started to answer.

  “I’ve got to wait until my wife gets here to go inside, but no need for you to wait in this line,” the Attorney General boomed again, cutting me off. He led us straight toward a guy with a clipboard. “You’re the guest of honor.”

  “Thanks, man,” Dad says, like he and the Attorney General are best buds, even though I was pretty sure he hated the current administration.

  “Darrell Kingston,” he said to the guy with the clipboard. “And this is my daughter, Dawn. Not sure if she’s on your list of RSVPs, though, since she just showed up as a surprise.”

  “We’ve got her on the list,” the guy assured him. “And your plus one is already inside.”

  My stomach turned to concrete at his announcement. Oh, no. Oh, no. Oh no.

  “You brought a date?” Dad asked, his genial smile turning into a full-on beam.

  No. I didn’t bring a date! I wanted to scream. But I didn’t know how to extract us from the situation without embarrassing my father on his big night.

  “Must be serious if you invited him to meet your brother and me,” Dad said, throwing me a significant look as we walked into the ballroom’s front lobby. “What’s his name?”

  Instead of answering, I came to a complete stop.

  Victor…

  Victor was waiting inside for us. The devil, in a tailored suit.

  33

  DAWN

  I stopped when I saw Victor standing in the museum’s lobby. My father did too. Behind Victor, there were several closed double doors that I could only presume led to the museum’s main event space.

  “Is that…?” Dad started to say beside me.

  I rushed to Victor before he could finish the question. Not because I was happy to see him. I rushed to my monster of a husband to plead, “Don’t do this. Please don’t do this.”

  Had I thought his eyes cold before?

  The memories of his other gazes seemed warm in comparison to the way he looked down at me now. And his eyes were circles of black ice above his hands as he signed, “I promised you an 8 o’clock date.”

  Then, before I could answer, he took my hand in his.

  Not out of affection. No, not at all.

  He raised our arms together in the air to meet my incoming father wedding ring first.

  My dad stopped short. Then he reeled back as if someone had shot him when he saw the black onyx and steel band wrapped around my most significant finger. It didn’t look like a traditional American wedding ring. But Dad immediately recognized it for what it was.

  I could tell because storm clouds moved in over his formerly sunny expression.

  He stepped closer to us and took my hand in his.

  To everyone else looking on, it probably appeared as if he was admiring my ring. Only Victor and I could hear him whisper, “What the fuck is this?”

  “Dad…” I whispered back, my voice pitiful and apologetic. But I didn’t finish that sentence. How could I? How could I explain Victor’s presence or any of this?

  The sets of doors I’d noticed earlier were suddenly thrown open, and an overhead voice announced that we could all go into the ballroom now.

  “You don’t want to make a scene, do you?” Victor signed as people started filing past us into the event space.

  I wasn’t sure if he was addressing my dad or me. Either way, the result was the same. Dad and I somehow ended up following Victor into a room filled with round tables covered in white linens and surrounded by Chiavari chairs. We were stiff actors in Victor’s kabuki play.

  Victor was wearing a suit, but like the last time we came to D.C., he decided not to pair it with a tie. So his dragon chest tattoo peeked out, along with a new skull tattoo on the back of his left hand. It glared below his matching wedding ring.

  He did not look at all like someone who would be invited to a ceremony honoring international law enforcement. Quite the opposite. He belonged in the collection of mugshots that would surely run before the Attorney General gave my dad his award.

  Victor went out of his way not to let anyone take his picture. But he didn’t have to be a known criminal element for people to sense his danger.

  No one else came up to congratulate my dad. In fact, everyone stared and gave us a wide berth as we made our way across the room, which made the journey feel excruciating and long.

  Yet, it was even worse when we reached a table near the stage with a placard bearing my father’s name in neat cursive letters.

  Dad didn’t say one word to us, but he didn’t have to. His disappointment and anger were written out in clear language across his face.

  Those silly dreams I’d woven in the back of Wayne’s car about possibly taking our relationship beyond May 25th….it had included figuring out how to broker a peace between Dad and Victor. But now, as we took our seats, I sizzled alive in a frying pan of embarrassment and regret.

  I said nothing, but of course, Victor had the nerve to try to make conversation.

  “Where’s your lovely wife?” he asked Dad, his expression coldly pleasant. “She should be recovered from her surgery by now.”

  Dad visibly gritted his jaw.

  “She’s still in Texas,” he answered in sign language. His choice of communication appeared to be a decision. “She had some unfinished business before she could move up here.”

  “I see. She is still in rehab then,” Victor signed. That malicious smile of his returned as he dropped that bomb. And he spelled out R-E-H-A-B as if he didn’t want to leave it to chance that we wouldn’t understand exactly what he was saying.

  Mom was in a rehab facility? My heart jerked at this new piece of information. But I didn’t want to give Victor the satisfaction of my shock. He was already winning this last anniversary battle on every front.

  “Where’s Byron?” I asked dad out loud, changing the subject.

  Dad stared Victor down for a long, hard beat before he answered me, also out loud, “Your brother’s not here yet. I’ll shoot him a text message to see if he’s on his way.”

  With that, Dad brought out his phone, saving us from any further conversation.

  And a new idea occurred to me.

  “I have to go to the bathroom,” I told them both, hitching my tote upon my arm. “I’ll be right back.”

  I didn’t bother to wait for an answer before making my way back to the restrooms near the venue’s front door.

  I’d been holding on. I’d been holding on to hope for so long. I didn’t realize how long until all hope completely disappeared.

  But Victor had taken everything. The last ten years of my life. The MFA I’d worked so hard for. My father’s big night. My chance to start over again in Pittsburgh.

  It was painful to walk, painful to breathe. Everything inside of me felt shattered and broken.

  I crashe
d into the women’s bathroom and found the perfect hiding place. Plenty of stalls and no line since the event had just started.

  I chose the stall furthest to the back. And once inside, I finally took out the item I’d bought from the campus bookstore.

  A pregnancy test.

  “As long as you don’t get pregnant, in ten years, on May 26th, you will be free, and your family will be safe. This I vow to you on my life.” Victor’s words to me before our wedding echoed in my head.

  Yesterday, I had been too afraid to take the pregnancy test I’d bought. Too unsure of my next steps to know the possible answer it held. Yesterday, I’d still held hope that maybe, just maybe, Victor and I could make this work.

  But all that hope was gone.

  Victor was a monster. He did not love me…perhaps could never love me. I knew that for sure now, without a shadow of a doubt.

  So there was only one question left.

  Was I pregnant with the monster’s baby?

  34

  VICTOR

  A mix of pride and final triumph filled Victor as he watched Dawn all but run away.

  Yes, he had made an unnecessary enemy out of Kuang. Yes, the extraction process from their partnership would most likely bring consequences. Violent ones.

  But he had finally won his ten-year war with Dawn. And he would win the upcoming one with Kuang. Of this, he was confident.

  At least he felt confident for the first fifteen minutes after Dawn scurried away to the restroom, so obviously unable to withstand his latest bit of payback.

  The ballroom filled up with more and more people, many of whom openly stared at him. But none of them were her. And eventually, her extended absence began to needle at him.

  It was the Providence Town Hall all over again. She should've returned by now, but she hadn't.

  Fortunately, Phantom was not here to judge him. So he surreptitiously checked the app he'd used to track her phone. If she had left the building, Victor made a dark plan to hunt her down and drag her back here. He would threaten her with whatever it took. This was his final revenge, and he was determined to see it through.