Chapter 25
Chapter Twenty-Five
Last night, while Victoria had been helping Father Sergei organize records in the church office, Kyle’s name had popped up on her phone—twice. She’d been tempted to take his call but needed space and time to think about everything that happened between them and all that she still had to tell him.
For the last hour, she’d tried not to squirm, listening to Father Sergei’s Sunday service. So many places of her body ached sweetly. Places that hadn’t ached that way in years. Another hot bath might be in order when the service was over.
Back in her apartment, she set her keys on the hall table.
There were so many decisions to be made. Questions to be asked. Questions to be answered.
Could she take the risk of getting closer to Kyle?
There’d been a time she would have gone anywhere with him. The sad irony now was that being with him could be her undoing. He’d been so kind to her in a cruel and lonely world. That kind of a man would understand. He had to, but perhaps she should wait.
What if their attraction was a flash in the pan, one that had only been magnified by distance and years apart? If she made the wrong choice now, it could all be for nothing.
She tried not to think about how incredibly good it had felt to be in Kyle’s arms, or how the merest touch of his fingers could make her want all that had been missing in her life. Still, that old familiar fear was there, lurking in the back of her mind like a grim reaper.
One of her African violets on the window sill had a few droopy leaves. She went to the window and pinched off the leaves, repositioning the terra cotta pot in its place on the sill.
What had happened in the past wasn’t her fault, and she was powerless to change anything now. Kyle knew firsthand what she’d gone through, so how could he not understand?
The question was more whether he could forgive her. If he didn’t, there would be other more serious ramifications, too horrible to contemplate.
She readjusted another African violet pot on the sill, then froze.
When she’d left her apartment, all her plants were exactly where she always positioned them to take advantage of the daylight they needed to flower. This one wasn’t where it should be. It was only six inches to the right, but still…
Yesterday, Kyle had commented on her having a green thumb. He must have moved the pot when he’d looked at her plants.
She turned to go into the kitchen and fill a watering can but stopped.
The framed photo of her mother on the hall table… Had that been moved, too?
Maybe. Maybe not.
Her heart beat a little faster.
On closer inspection, it wasn’t like it had been moved much.
More like someone had picked it up, then set it down again but not exactly in the same place.
She blew out a slow breath to calm her fraying nerves.
Kyle must also have picked up the frame to look at it and done the same with her plant.
That had to be the explanation. It was the only one that made sense.
An hour later, she’d watered all her plants and cleaned her kitchen.
The intercom by the door buzzed. She pressed the button. “Yes?”
“It’s Kyle.”
She jerked back, as if he’d been standing right outside the door. He hadn’t called to say he was coming over, so why was he here?
There hadn’t been enough time to make those decisions she needed to make. She wasn’t ready but couldn’t leave him standing in the vestibule. With a slightly trembling finger, she hit the button to unlock the inner door.
When he finally knocked, her heart thumped harder. She twisted the deadbolt and opened the door. “Hi,” Victoria said, hoping she didn’t look as flustered as she felt.
“Hi.” He grinned, which made her heart beat faster but for an entirely different reason—yearning. “Can I come in?”
“Of course.” Only after closing the door did she notice the large Nordstrom shopping bag in his hand.
“Happy birthday.” He handed her the bag.
“But it’s not my—” Oh. It was her birthday. Her real one. She smiled up at him, her heart swelling at the kind gesture. “You remembered.”
“I never forgot.” He leaned down and kissed her on the lips, sending warm tingles to those still-sweetly aching parts of her body. “Open it.”
Aside from the salted caramel cupcake Tracee always presented her with on her fake birthday, she hadn’t gotten any gifts on her real birthday since her mother had passed away.
“Thank you. This is so unexpected.” It really was, and in some small, special way, it was nice that someone actually knew how much this day meant to her.
They sat on the sofa while she pulled out a large box wrapped in red paper and tied with a thick gold ribbon.
She untied the ribbon and slid the box out of the shiny wrapping.
A moment later, she stared speechless at the briefcase nestled in layers of lavender tissue paper.
She held up the briefcase, watching the play of light on the satiny sheen of black micro-fiber fabric and intricate silvery black and purple beading.
It was the most beautiful briefcase she’d ever seen, made more so because Kyle had given it to her.
“I love it,” she choked out. “You didn’t have to do this.”
“I wanted to.” He squeezed her hand. “You deserve something special on your birthday.”
“It’s perfect.” She held the briefcase tightly to her breast, impossibly moved by his thoughtfulness.
“There’s more.” He pointed to the briefcase. “Inside.”
When she undid the clasp, a shimmer of gold glinted from the bottom of the briefcase.
Inside, was another beautifully wrapped box, this one small and delicate.
She unwrapped the box and removed the cover.
Inside was yet another box, this one of burgundy velvet.
She flipped open the hinged lid and gasped. “Oh, Kyle.”
Set on a bed of creamy satin was a pair of exquisite diamond stud earrings with pearl teardrops, practically an exact replicate of her mother’s heirloom earrings, the ones she was certain Yuri had stolen so long ago.
The memory of that night when Kyle had kissed her… She’d just related her suspicions that Yuri had stolen her treasured earrings, then unceremoniously presented her with plain studs as a replacement.
Her chest heaved from the effort it took not to burst into an all-out waterfall of tears. Tears of joy. Tears of gratitude. Tears of love? Yes. She was falling inextricably in love with him all over again. With unerring certainty, she acknowledged that she had always been in love with him.
“I remembered that, too.” Tenderly, he stroked her cheek. “I don’t think there’s anything about you I forgot.”
What had she done to deserve this depth of thoughtfulness?
Oh, God. I have to tell him.
“Kyle, I—”
The doorbell rang, not the intercom but the bell right outside her apartment door.
“Expecting someone?” Kyle’s brows furrowed.
“No. Probably just a neighbor.”
Then again, she hardly knew her neighbors, and that was by design. She valued her privacy and her safety. The fewer people who knew her here the better.
She rose to look through the peephole. A woman wearing a long sleeve green shirt embroidered with the words Whitney Florists stood outside her door. “Can I help you?”
“Delivery, ma’am.” The woman held up a large glass vase brimming with red roses.
She opened the door.
“Victoria, don’t!” In an instant, Kyle was beside her.
“Here you go.” The woman handed over the vase, then turned to leave.
“Wait,” Kyle said. “You didn’t buzz the intercom. How did you get into the building?”
She shrugged. “I make deliveries in the area all the time. Someone else was coming out as I was going in. They held the door for me.”
“Great security,” Kyle muttered, peering both ways down the hall.
When the woman had gone, he shut the door and went to the window. “There’s a florist van down there. Whitney Florists. Have you heard of them?”
“Yes.” She sat on the sofa and set the vase on the coffee table. “They have a shop in town.”
“Who’s it from?” He towered over her, his arms crossed and a decided frown on his face.
She plucked the card from the envelope clipped inside the plastic card holder. As she read the words, a sick feeling rolled up in her stomach.
Without asking, Kyle took the card from her hand.
“Happy Birthday, Vika,” he read out loud.
His eyes narrowed, and his jaw went harder than the granite floor in her office building.
“It isn’t signed. Who else knows it’s your birthday?
Your real birthday? And they’d have to know where you live.
Someone from your office? Tracee? Brad Evans?
” Kyle had morphed into total federal agent mode, and her head was hammering from all the questions. “And who else calls you Vika?”
“The only people who ever called me Vika were my parents and Yuri. No one at my office knows that nickname. They don’t even know my Russian background.”
Could she have made a mistake and accidentally written down her true birthdate?
No. She’d been too careful. Marissa had all but physically drilled into her head never to make a mistake, and she hadn’t. This was so not good. “The only person who knows my true birthday beside you is…” She didn’t have to say it. Yuri.
“It’s not safe here anymore.” Kyle rested his hands on her shoulders. “These flowers are a message. He knows where you live.”
“No.” She began shaking her head, meeting Kyle’s intense, angry gaze head-on.
“I won’t let him do this. I told you before, I can’t run again.
He’s taken so much from me. This has to stop here and now.
” No matter what happened from this point forward between Kyle and her, she wanted her life back. Whatever that turns out to be.
“Please, Victoria.” He hung his head, touching his forehead to hers. “I don’t want anything to happen to you.”
His words came out choked, tugging on her heartstrings to the point where she couldn’t ignore his concern. She was worried, too.
He pulled back. “Can we compromise?” When she began to shake her head, he added quickly, “At least temporarily. Move out until I have a chance to check out the florist and confirm who sent the flowers. Maybe you forgot and somewhere, sometime accidentally gave out today as your birthday.”
She hadn’t, but she could honor his request because he cared.
Truly cared, something she’d once accused him of not being capable of.
Today, she could hear it in his voice. There might indeed come a time when other circumstances forced her to run, but she wouldn’t let Yuri be the reason.
“I can probably live with Tracee for a few days.”
“No,” he bit out, the sharpness in his tone surprising her. “Until this is figured out, you’re coming home with me. Pack a bag.”
He’d said those words to her once before, only this time even she had to agree things had changed drastically. She didn’t need for Kyle to confirm anything with the florist. In her gut, she knew it had been Yuri.
“Okay,” she whispered, leaving him standing in the living room while she blindly headed to her bedroom.
In a daze, she pulled a small suitcase from the closet and dropped it on the bed.
It was happening again. Her life was on a never-ending repeat cycle. All the precautions she’d taken were for nothing.
Yuri had found her anyway.
Jeans, underwear, socks, and a few shirts went into the suitcase.
Next, came toiletries. There was no denying this was all her fault.
If she’d obeyed Kyle’s orders and not rushed into the courtroom, Yuri would never have seen her.
But Aly had needed her help, so she didn’t regret her actions for a second.
That was what her new life was about—helping people.
Ironically, she didn’t know how to help herself out of this mess.
Sadness crept over her like a dark cloud she could never run from.
Kyle’s deep voice filtered into the room as he spoke with someone on his phone. She couldn’t hear the words but assumed he was updating someone at the FBI as to what was happening. For that matter, she’d have to do the same. Tomorrow was Monday. She couldn’t not show up for work.
The disgusted sound bubbling up in her throat bordered on hysterical laughter.
She wasn’t sure who she was more afraid of: Yuri…or Kyle.
Yuri would hurt her with his words and his fists. The words she could ignore. The bruises would eventually heal.
What Kyle could do to her if he knew the truth would be long lasting.
And far, far worse.