Chapter 7 - The Woman Beside Victor Hayes
One year later, I woke at 3:14 a.m.
Same hour.
Different life.
Victor's side of the bed was empty.
I found him downstairs in the study.
The mahogany door was open.
It was always open now.
He stood by the fireplace holding a glass of water.
“You're supposed to be sleeping,” I said.
“So are you.”
“You left.”
“I had a call.”
I walked toward him.
“Everything okay?”
“Yes.”
He looked at the clock.
Then at me.
“Do you know what time it is?”
“Three fourteen.”
“One year.”
I smiled.
“You remember?”
“I told you. I remember everything.”
The study looked different now.
Same books.
Same leather sofa.
Same Persian rug.
But no shattered glass.
No blood.
No fear.
I sat on the sofa.
Victor remained standing.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“You're staring.”
“I woke up here exactly one year ago with you asleep on me.”
“You also had a gun.”
He sighed.
“You never let that go.”
“It's an important detail.”
“I put it down.”
“Eventually.”
He sat beside me.
I leaned against his shoulder.
“How's Liam?”
“Six months without gambling.”
Victor nodded.
“He's doing well.”
“He hates that you're always right.”
“So do you.”
“Constantly.”
A small smile touched his mouth.
Then his expression became serious.
“Claire.”
That tone made me sit upright.
“What happened?”
“Nothing.”
“Then why do you look like that?”
Victor reached into his pocket.
I stared.
“No.”
He stopped.
“You don't even know what I'm doing.”
“You're reaching into your pocket at three in the morning while looking terrified.”
“I am not terrified.”
“You absolutely are.”
Victor Hayes—the man half the city feared—actually looked annoyed.
Then he pulled out a small velvet box.
My mouth opened.
“Victor.”
“Before you say anything—”
“You're giving a speech?”
“I had one.”
“What happened to it?”
“You interrupted.”
I laughed.
He opened the box.
A simple diamond ring rested inside.
Not enormous.
Not flashy.
Perfect.
Victor looked at me.
“When I met you, you were paying for someone else's mistakes.”
His voice was steady.
“I will never ask you to belong to me because of a debt, fear, protection, money, or obligation.”
I stopped smiling.
He continued.
“I only want one answer if it's completely yours.”
He took my hand.
“Claire Carter, will you marry me?”
For once, I didn't make him wait.
“Yes.”
His shoulders actually relaxed.
I laughed.
“Were you expecting me to say no?”
“I prepared for every possibility.”
“Of course you did.”
He slipped the ring onto my finger.
I looked at it.
Then at him.
“One condition.”
His eyes narrowed suspiciously.
“What?”
“Liam isn't allowed anywhere near the bachelor party.”
Victor laughed.
“Agreed.”
Three months later, we married quietly at the estate.
Paul stood beside Victor.
Liam stood beside me.
Before the ceremony, Liam took my hand.
“Claire.”
“What?”
“I owe you an apology I can never finish.”
“You don't have to finish it today.”
“I almost destroyed your life.”
“Yes.”
He swallowed.
“And somehow you still saved mine.”
I squeezed his hand.
“No.”
He looked confused.
“You finally saved your own.”
Across the garden, Victor was waiting.
Liam followed my gaze.
“He really loves you.”
“I know.”
“Still scares me.”
“He enjoys that.”
I walked toward Victor.
There were no debts between us.
No bargains.
No orders.
When I reached him, he whispered, “You came.”
I raised an eyebrow.
“Were you worried?”
“Never.”
“Liar.”
“Occasionally.”
I took his hand.
The ceremony was short.
The reception was loud.
And sometime after midnight, I slipped away from the crowd and found the old study.
Victor followed.
I sat on the leather sofa.
He stopped in the doorway.
“Tired?”
“Very.”
He sat beside me.
I curled against his chest.
Victor looked down at me.
“This seems familiar.”
“Don't get any ideas.”
“No promises.”
I closed my eyes.
His arm settled around my waist.
One year earlier, I'd fallen asleep there because I was too exhausted to move.
I'd been a frightened twenty-three-year-old maid working eighteen-hour shifts to repay a debt that wasn't mine.
Victor Hayes had been a wounded stranger I was forbidden to touch.
Now the mahogany door stood wide open.
My brother was rebuilding his life.
I had returned to college while working for the foundation.
And the man everyone in Chicago feared was quietly brushing a strand of hair from my face.
“Claire?”
My eyes remained closed.
“Hmm?”
“You're using me as a pillow again.”
I smiled.
“Problem?”
Victor tightened his arm around me.
“No.”
He kissed the top of my head.
“Stay.”
The first time he'd said that word, I'd stayed because I was afraid to move.
May you like
This time, I stayed because I was home.
THE END
