Page 29 of Let Me Love You

My body tenses, and he immediately notices. I pull away, suddenly feeling exactly how close we were. But I don’t stop dancing, aware of all the eyes on us.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked,” he says quickly. “It’s not my place.”

Speaking about that asshole should’ve been banned in the contract. I spend a lot of my waking hours thinking about and loathing Paul.

But Victor deserves some sort of explanation, so I close my eyes and whisper, “He was very loving in the beginning. Then he made lots of excuses to be out, and a few months before his death, he started to get distant and angry.”

Hopefully that is enough to satisfy his curiosity.

Victor nods slowly as if he’s thinking each of my words through. “I’m sorry you had to experience that.”

He tugs me gently, and I step closer to him again. He keeps me pressed against his hard body as he moves us to the rhythm. I drop my head on his chest and soak up his strength. His heart pounds a steady beat, lulling me into almost thinking I’m safe.

The music comes to an end, and then a fast song comes on. Thank God. The bass pumps through the speakers and more bodies crunch onto the dance floor. A few of the people I met throughout the night come to join the fun.

I’m not sure how much longer I can take being pressed against him. Now there’s so many people they jostle me.

Victor holds onto my hand and spins me out and back in, and I narrowly miss hitting another dancer. “Now, I can really show you my moves,” he says back to his normal, lighthearted voice.

For the first time in what feels like forever, I laugh freely as he twirls me around again and again. My feet stumble in my heels, but he keeps his grip firm, preventing my fall.

Mrs. Frederick robot-dances her way over to us with a wineglass in her hand. The dark liquid sloshes but doesn’t spill over. Victor releases me so I can mimic Mrs. Frederick, and she and I meet halfway.

Then she does a little shimmy and winks at me.

A laugh is torn out of my throat. But I tear my gaze away and attempt to keep my distance from Victor and Mrs. Frederick. I can’t let this world suck me in, or I might get chewed up and spit out like yesterday’s trash—just like with Paul.

Chapter 13

Victor

Istride into the conference room. My marketing manager, Mr. Choi, and his team are already inside, chatting about their day. The moment they spot me, they stop talking and busy themselves. Some people flip through notes while others start chatting with their neighbors about actual marketing strategies. Normally, I don’t mind idle chitchat, but with my board breathing down my neck, it has pushed me into taking a more active role in their strategy meetings.

Mr. Choi stands as I make my way to the head of the table, and the rest of his staff follows his lead. I motion for them all to sit. Each and every one of these people has proven themselves in some way over the last few years. If anyone can come up with a fantastic plan, it’s them.

“Thank you for taking time out of your busy schedule to meet with us,” Mr. Choi says. “My team leader made a breakthrough with a strategy we thought you might like.”

“That makes me a happy man.”

Mr. Choi smiles. “We have a presentation set up for you. We already pitched it to Mr. Natten, and he approved of us showing it to you.”

Mr. Natten has spearheaded some of our most difficult marketing plans over the last eight years. If our marketing director loves it, I’m sure I will.

So, I nod. “Start when you’re ready.”

The team leader—a middle-aged man with sandy brown hair—stands and makes his way to the front of the room. He fiddles with his sleeve before turning on the monitor to start his presentation.

“We’ve been running numbers on different ages of people who use older models of this particular phone in order to make a marketing strategy that best fits them.” He clicks a button to go to the next slide. “If our users are generally of retired age, we wouldn’t want to advertise on platforms like TikTok—”

A knock interrupts him. Martha, my assistant, pokes her head inside. “I’m so sorry to interrupt, but, Mr. Barlowe, you have guests.”

“We’re in the middle of an important presentation. Tell them to come back when they have an appointment,” I say.

The older woman shuffles into the room and leans down to whisper in my ear. “It’s your wife and daughter.”

A small smile overtakes my mouth. I never told Serenity she couldn’t come to my office, but I never expected her to. Pushing to my feet, I say, “I’m sorry, everyone. Can we meet back here in about an hour? Something has been brought to my attention.”

Mr. Choi nods. “Take all the time you need. We’ll continue to fine tune our ideas while we wait.”