Chapter 22
Chapter Twenty-Two
Victor holds me close under the covers, our bodies intertwined like vines as we face each other. “I should go,” I murmur, but I make no move to leave.
“When will I see you again?”
I never want to leave. “Soon, I hope.” The words hang between us, heavy with the weight of our complicated situation.
Blue eyes meet mine, determined and longing. “You can’t marry him.”
“No. I can’t. I won’t.”
A wave of relief crosses his face. “You’re mine.”
I exhale, my breath shaky. Just because I know what I have to do—what I want to do—doesn’t make it easy. I’m dreading hurting the people I care about, even if it means my happiness. Tears blur my vision—happy tears. I still can’t believe this is real. That he’s finally mine.
“I’m yours.” Cementing my words, I press my forehead to his. As surreal as this feels, my chest tightens with fear and sadness, not letting me fully enjoy this moment. “I have a wedding to cancel, a relationship to end, my family to tell. And then there’s Esme…I need time. Not for the breakup with Ian, but to tell Esme and my family.”
“I understand. Take all the time you need.” Victor plants a soft kiss on my forehead before rolling onto his back, running a hand through his sex-tousled hair. “Do you think you and Esme can come back from this?”
I prop myself up on my elbow and look down at him. “I don’t know. I hope so.” The past month has been a whirlwind of challenges for both of us, and I know that being together now doesn’t guarantee smooth sailing ahead. But are we truly together? As in, officially a couple?
My heart races as I gather the courage to ask the question that's been gnawing at me. “When you say that I'm yours,” I begin, feeling heat rise to my cheeks, “what does that mean to you... exactly?” It’s not that I doubt what I mean to him, but this is still Victor we’re talking about. I know his reputation before Esme. Does he want to settle down—as in, in a monogamous committed relationship?
He shifts, rolling onto his side to face me again. “When I say that you’re mine, it also means I’m yours. I don’t want anyone else. Just you.” A crooked, genuine smile plays on his full lips. “I’m obsessed with you, for fuck’s sake.” That gets a laugh out of me because join the freaking club . His expression turns serious, his eyes swimming with something that looks like guilt. It throws me off because I have no idea what he’s about to tell me. “That’s why I knew I had to break up with her.”
“You broke up with Esme for me?”
Victor’s eyes lock on mine, intense and unwavering. “You were still with Ian, so I didn’t expect anything to happen between us. But I couldn’t lie to myself anymore.” He takes a deep breath. “I realized I didn’t just hate Ian because he’s an asshole. I hated him because he had you, and I…I wanted you.”
A shiver runs down my spine at his words. His fingers find a lock of my hair, gently curling it around his finger. “Once I admitted that to myself, I knew I couldn’t keep stringing Esme along. It wasn’t fair to her.” He pauses, his jaw clenching and unclenching as if wrestling with his next words. “I didn’t know if you’d ever leave him, but after we made love on the beach, I knew there was no way in hell that I was going to watch you marry him. I tried to let you go, but it fucked me up.”
“It fucked me up too.” I pull back to search his face. “But we agreed to leave what happened in Cape Cod behind us.”
A determined glint flashes in his eyes. “I was biding my time, mainly so that you and Esme could be straight. But I was coming for you, Skylar. One way or another.” His hand threads through my hair to the nape of my neck, drawing me closer. “I love you.”
My heart soars. Seriously. I’m on cloud nine. Warmth blooms in my chest, spreading through my entire being as his words run through me. “I love you too,” I whisper. “I think I’ve always loved you, even when I tried not to.” Happy tears well up in my eyes, blurring my vision.
Victor’s lips meet mine, soft at first, then more insistent. A gentle nip at my bottom lip makes me moan. God, he’s such a good kisser . Chuckling low, he continues the kiss, his tongue tracing my lips before sliding against mine, and I melt into him. When I playfully bite his lower lip, he groans, the sound vibrating through my body. Gently sucking his tongue earns me a sharp inhale. His fingers tangle in my hair, angling my head for better access. We tease and retreat, push and pull, in a delicious dance that leaves me dizzy and wanting more.
The kiss deepens, slow and thorough, as if we have all the time in the world. As if there’s not a party with hundreds of people going on downstairs. As if our being together won’t shock or hurt anyone. I know the path forward won’t be easy, but right now, safe in Victor’s arms as we kiss in the dark, I feel like nothing can ever come between us.
It’s 2:00 a.m. when I finally tear myself away from Victor’s bed. He helps me sneak out, both of us on high alert for any sign of his family. With a quick kiss goodbye, one that doesn’t last long enough for either of us, I climb in my car and head home, my body still buzzing.
Half an hour later, I arrive to find Ian’s car in my driveway. The hell ? My hands shake as I turn off the engine. I’m not in the mood or head space to deal with him tonight, but it looks like I have to. Maybe it’s for the best. The sooner I rip the Band-Aid off our toxic relationship, the better.
Taking deep breaths, I force myself out of the car. The house is dead quiet as I tiptoe upstairs past Esme’s room. Her door is slightly open, and the lights are off. She must’ve left after letting Ian in.
The relief doesn’t last long; Ian’s temper is always worse when no one else is around.
Each step feels heavy with dread as I approach my bedroom. When I open the door, my heart nearly jumps out of my chest. Ian is slouched on my bed, his face twisted with pain, tears shining in his eyes.
He knows. But how?
“Where were you?” His voice is low and controlled.
I’m trying to find my courage, but I’m freaking the hell out. “A birthday party.”
His eyes narrow at my dress, no doubt judging the short hem. “Dressed like that?” His words drip with accusation.
I brush off his dig. “We need to talk.”
“You’re right. We do,” he says, towering over me. He’s shorter than Victor by a few inches, but his stance is intimidating as all get out. “Things were good until Cape Cod.”
I swallow hard, finding my voice. “Things haven’t been good for a long time. Way before Cape Cod, and you know it.”
His smile is unsettling, not reaching his eyes. “You would say that, wouldn’t you?”
“Because it’s the truth.”
“I knew something was off, but I couldn’t put my finger on it. Here I am, loving you, spoiling you, treating you like a queen. I let you into my world, introducing you to my family—who adores you—and yet you push me away at every turn.” He laughs bitterly.
“You think this is all my fault? That this is all on me?”
“I saw the video footage!” He throws his hands up in exasperation, his eyes wild.
Video footage ? What is he even talking about? Confusion twists my features, my brows knitting together. “What video footage?”
“From our beach house. I saw you that night, leaving with a blanket. And then Victor left not even a few minutes later.”
Oh shit.
“Neither of you came back until morning. And guess what? He comes home, using the side door, holding that same goddamn blanket.” His words are like daggers, each one cutting deeper than the last. “You made me think I was the problem, like I was the bad guy. When it’s been you all along.”
“Ian.” I step forward, but his glare stops me, rooting me to the spot. “I?—”
“You fucked him!” He pounds his chest, his face contorting with rage, veins bulging in his neck. “Gave him what belongs to me.”
Tears stream down my face—not for what I did but for the pain I’ve caused. I knew this would hurt him, but seeing it on his face hits me square in the chest. And as bad as things had become between us, he didn’t deserve it. I should’ve been honest with him, and with myself, that we weren’t working. “I never meant to hurt you.”
His lips curl into a sneer. “You’re a liar and a fraud. You never loved me.” His voice rises, spit flying from his mouth. “You’re not even wearing your goddamn ring!”
My stomach drops to the floor at his words. I left my ring in Victor’s room—not on purpose. Before I left for home, we made love again, this time without my ring. He’d slipped it off my finger and tossed it on his nightstand as a symbolic gesture of our newfound commitment. “I did love you,” I reiterate. “But things changed.” Or maybe they didn’t, and I just finally faced the truth. “We were toxic for each other.”
Ian grips my chin, his fingers digging into my skin, the pain making me wince. “You’re a heartless whore, just like your mother.”
His words hit their target, and I swat his hand away, my pulse going apeshit as rage, hurt, and fear course through my veins. “Fuck you, Ian.”
“Fuck me ? No. You’re a terrible lay. Always have been.”
“That’s not what he says.” The words slip out before I can stop them, and I regret them instantly when Ian’s hand connects with my face in a swift, stinging blow. Pain explodes in my cheek, stars dancing before my eyes as I stumble back until my shoulder blades slam into the wall.
I can’t believe he hit me. That son of a bitch! Sobs rack my body, violent and uncontrollable. Ian approaches, dipping his head to meet my eyes, and I flinch, cowering away from him. His hands, the same ones that once held me with tenderness, now bring only pain and fear. He’s cursed me out before, called me out of my name plenty of times when things didn’t go his way, but he’s never put hands on me. I’d always thought I’d fight back if a man hit me. But I’m too stunned and scared and devastated to do anything except cry.
“How could you do this to me?” His voice breaks as he grabs my face, forcing me to look at him. “You broke my fucking heart!”
I feel small and helpless, like a shell of myself. But I’m also pissed, and my anger emboldens me. “Get out!”
Ian’s grip tightens, his fingernails cutting into my skin. “You think you can do better than me? That he can love you?” He presses on, his eyes blazing with anger, as each word slices into me like a razor blade. “He’ll use you, just like he did Esme. And your family—everyone you love—will see the truth about you. That you’re nothing but a crack-baby, dirty whore.” Then he does the unexpected, kissing me rough and possessive, ignoring my attempts to turn away. I’m struggling against him, trying to shove and hit him, but I’m trapped in his arms.
Panic rises in my throat, choking me, and it feels like I’m going to throw up. He can do anything to me right now, and I might not be physically strong enough to fight him off. The thought is sobering.
“Get off of me,” I scream, my voice raw and desperate. As if my skin burns him, he abruptly releases me with enough of a shove that it sends me stumbling back. “Get the fuck out,” I cry out, my chest heaving.
A vein pulses at his temple as he sneers at me like I’m shit on the bottom of his shoe. “You dirty bitch. He can have you,” he snarls, his lips curling back over clenched teeth.
A thick gob of spit launches from his mouth, splattering warm and wet across my face. Then he recoils, his shoes hammering the floor as he storms from my room, the bedroom door slamming violently behind him.
My legs give out, and I slide down the wall, crumpling into a heap on the floor. I wipe away his spit from my face. I feel like a hollowed-out husk, as if someone reached inside and scooped out my insides with a melon baller.
The front door slams with an echoing bang that reverberates through the house, leaving me alone in the deafening silence. “Victor loves me,” I speak into the empty room, my voice trembling, hoarse from crying or screaming. “And I…I love him back. And that’s all that matters.” My ragged words offer me little comfort.
Love may conquer all, but it won’t shield me from the storm to come.
Esme’s face pops into my head.
There’s no good way out of this mess I created because I’m not willing to give him up—not even for her.