The bubble letting me know she’s typing keeps staring back at me, and I feel myself getting restless.
C: seemed okay this morning but don’t think she left her bed since
Now why would feisty Victoria do something like that? The thought of her being sick or hurt sends a strange sensation through me.
I don’t care about her—no, that’s not it.
But she’s mine, and I take care of what belongs to me. If something’s wrong with her, it’s my job to fix it.
W: See what’s wrong with her. And text me back immediately.
I look up from my phone at the fuming Albanian in front of me.
“Time’s up,” I say, standing. Ivan follows my lead.
The Albanian downs the rest of his whiskey. “Seven percent. And we’ll do it.”
“Six,” I counter, knowing full well all our other allies are getting six percent each.
Securing this new territory isn’t about the money. It’s more about expanding thePakhan’s influence. Especially when the Italians are looking to do the same. Andespeciallyafter Victoria’s father conspired with them to seize some of our assets.
“Fine,” he says, visibly satisfied that he got more than what was initially offered.
My phone vibrates in my hand.
“Ivan will give you the details of when and where to meet next. Have a good evening, gentlemen.”
I peer down at the message as I exit the club, and a strange feeling squeezes my chest at what I read.
C: she says she’s fine but wants to be left alone
C: she was crying
She can cry all she wants. It won’t change my plans for her.
But as I read the message over and over again, I recognize the feeling, theguiltthat makes its way to my reasoning, twisting it until it loses some of its sense.
I find myself wanting to call Victoria and tell her to get the hell up, but I haven’t given her a phone. I have no way of reaching out to her. And I don’t understand why it gets me so fucking fired up.
Why is she crying? I left her alone to prove a point, to give her a punishment—yes. But also to give her some peace of mind. Didn’t she say she hates me? That she hates having me around?
“Get the car. We’re going home,” I tell Ivan.
“Should I call the Serbian? Tell him we’re no longer meeting tonight?”
“Yes. And I won’t be meeting anyone tomorrow either. We’re postponing the whole thing for a few days.”
Ivan frowns. “You heard the Albanian. He might go crawling to the Cosa Nostra for a better deal if they hear they have more time.”
“I’ll come up with something in the meantime. Right now, I need to get home.”
***
By the time I’m back, it’s already morning. I unlock and enter Victoria’s room silently, not wanting to wake her up if she’s sleeping.
The thick curtains cover the windows, keeping the sun from passing through, which makes it look as if it’s still nighttime. The air is tight, heavy. I know Corinne ventilates the room every morning and tidies up, but it feels as if she hasn’t done it in days.
Victoria’s frail body lies under the rumpled sheets, the side of her face buried in her pillow, arms bent at the elbows on either side of it.
