Chapter 2 - The Man Who Had Never Forgotten Her
Dora refused Victor's first offer.
Then his second.
By the time he tried to put a coat around her shoulders outside the ballroom, she had become so annoyed she nearly slapped his hand away.
"I can get home myself."
"I know."
"Then stop following me."
"I'm not following you."
She stopped walking.
Victor stopped too.
Rain shimmered beneath the hotel lights.
"You're standing six feet behind me."
"I am making sure you reach your car."
"My car."
Victor glanced toward the battered Honda parked beneath a flickering lamp.
"That car?"
Dora narrowed her eyes.
"Yes."
"It is twelve years old."
"It runs."
"It makes sounds."
"So do you."
For the first time, one of Victor's bodyguards looked like he wanted to smile.
Victor shot him a glance.
The man immediately looked away.
Dora sighed.
"Mr. Vale, thank you for tonight."
"Victor."
"No."
His eyebrow rose.
"No what?"
"No, I won't call you Victor."
"Why?"
"Because I already made that mistake once."
His gaze softened.
Dora hated that look.
It made him seem human.
Eight months earlier, she had found him behind the diner.
She had been closing the night shift when she heard footsteps crashing against metal.
Then someone slammed into the alley wall.
He had looked terrible.
Blood soaked his black shirt.
"I need a phone," he had said.
Dora had said, "You need a hospital."
"No hospital."
She had laughed then, because he had sounded completely unreasonable.
"Fine. Die dramatically in the alley."
He had almost smiled.
Instead, he collapsed.
She had dragged him inside.
She had never learned where she found the courage.
Maybe survival recognized survival.
Maybe she simply couldn't leave a dying man alone.
She had cleaned the wound with diner supplies, used fishing line from her emergency kit, and stitched the deep cut.
Victor had watched her the entire time.
"What?" she had asked.
"You aren't scared."
"I am."
"You don't look it."
"I'm very good at hiding things."
He had remembered that.
She could see it now.
The rain became heavier.
Victor held the coat out again.
Dora finally accepted it.
"Just until I get to the car."
"Fine."
They walked.
Inside the parking garage, Dora noticed three black SUVs.
"Those are yours?"
"Yes."
"How many bodyguards do you need?"
"Enough."
"That isn't an answer."
"It's the only one you're getting."
Dora unlocked her car.
Victor leaned against the SUV behind her.
"You should quit Elite Staffing."
"I can't."
"Why?"
"Because people need money."
"I can give you money."
She immediately shook her head.
"No."
"I wasn't asking."
"And I'm still saying no."
His eyes narrowed.
"You enjoy arguing with me."
"I don't enjoy anything about this."
"Except when you stabbed me with fishing line."
Dora looked at him.
"You deserved it."
He laughed.
It was the first time she had heard him laugh.
She hated that, too.
Because it sounded warm.
Too warm for a man everyone called a monster.
"Dora."
She froze.
"How do you know my name?"
"I had it traced."
"That's creepy."
"I know."
"Extremely creepy."
"I was worried."
"Why?"
Victor said nothing.
That silence told her more than words could.
He had been looking for her.
For eight months.
Not because of a debt.
Not because of gratitude.
Something else.
"Why?" she asked again.
Victor's phone rang.
His expression hardened instantly.
He answered.
"Talk."
A pause.
Then his eyes moved to Dora.
"We found the warehouse."
Dora watched him carefully.
"Burned?"
Another pause.
Victor's jaw tightened.
"No witnesses?"
He listened.
"Bring everything to me."
He hung up.
Dora looked at him.
"What happened?"
"Nothing you need to worry about."
She smiled bitterly.
"That's what dangerous men say before everyone should worry."
Victor stepped closer.
"Dora, there are people in this city who will hurt you to get to me."
She stared.
"Why would anyone use me?"
"Because you are important."
"To you?"
His answer was immediate.
"Yes."
Her heartbeat stumbled.
"Why?"
"Because the night you saved me, you didn't ask who I was."
She shrugged.
"You were bleeding."
"Most people would have called the police."
"Most people don't know how to sew wounds."
He studied her.
"I do now."
Dora shook her head.
"You don't know me."
"I know enough."
"You know I work too much, I'm stubborn, and I drive an embarrassing car."
"I know you send part of every paycheck to your landlord before you buy food."
Her expression changed.
"You looked into my finances?"
"I needed to know you were safe."
"You're controlling."
"Yes."
"Possessive."
"Probably."
"Terrifying."
"Definitely."
Dora almost smiled.
Then Victor said quietly, "And I'm trying very hard not to scare you."
That stopped her.
For a man surrounded by armed men, feared across half the city, he suddenly looked uncertain.
Dora didn't know what to do with that.
She opened her car door.
"Good night, Victor."
He nodded.
"Good night, Dora."
She started the engine.
Before she drove away, she looked back.
Victor was still standing there.
Watching.
Protecting.
Waiting.
She didn't know that forty minutes later, his most trusted lieutenant would walk into the Vale penthouse carrying a folder labeled with Dora's full name.
And inside that folder was a photograph taken seventeen years earlier.
May you like
A photograph of a little girl standing beside a woman Victor knew very well.
His dead mother.
