Isabel
I tuck the garment bag over my arm and grab the bag containing my shoes and makeup. Originally, I planned on arriving early and dressing in the hotel’s lobby bathroom. That was until the words came out of my mouth. Now I’m walking up Viktor’s salted sidewalk to use his bathroom.
Looking around, I smile at the shoveled driveway and steps. The big grump was cared for, and it brought a lightness to my chest. I inhale the cold air, hoping to chase away the unprofessional feelings that keep trying to rise to the surface. With as many cold breaths as I find myself taking, I might have to bring our sessions outside.
“He’s your patient.” I chastise myself before turning the knob and stepping inside. “You still good over there?” I call out as I step out of my snow boots.
I chuckle when he pretends to snore loud enough for me to hear. I slip my gloves into my jacket and hang it on the hook by the door. “Holler if you need me,” I call out and walk down the hall, pausing briefly to note the unmade bed in his room.
My mind wanders off on its own. Images of me lying on that bed. Viktor between my legs, eyes like pools of desire looking down on me. Our bodies rising and falling as they tumble into wave after wave of pleasure.
A small moan slips from my lips, drawing my attention back to the now. What is wrong with me? I wonder with a shake of my head. As I enter the bathroom, I remind myself for the millionth time this week that Viktor Prinz is my patient. Maybe if I tell myself this a few more hundred times it will finally stick?
It didn’t matter that he’s sex on a stick, funny, loyal, and kind behind his gruffness. None of that matters because ethically I shouldn’t be entertaining any thoughts of his mouth on mine or anywhere else on my body.
I splash cold water on my face in an attempt to cool my fevered skin. It doesn’t work. Nothing seems to work to drive that man from my thoughts.
I undress and slip into my long-sleeved sweater dress. The material is like a second skin and reaches just below my knees. At the bottom of the garment bag, I find my pair of rolled-up tights and slip them on. I throw my discarded clothes into the bag and grab my high-heeled black boots from the bottom.
With a check of the time, I realize I’m going to be late. I opt for only doing my eyes and putting on some lipstick before slipping a long gold chain over my head.
I couldn’t seem to let Viktor believe I was going out with another man when I saw the sadness flash in his eyes. It was a working dinner with my boss. Normally, I wouldn’t go through the trouble of dressing up for one of these, but Toby set it up at a fancy restaurant in the hotel.
Turning around, I make sure I grabbed everything and step out of the bathroom. Will Viktor like how I look? “Stop it, Isabel!” I hiss at myself. With a deep breath, I walk down the hall and push my inappropriate thoughts aside.
I pause at his door again. Only this time something on his dresser pulls me in. Silence from where I’ve left him leaves me daring a peek. I don’t belong in here. I haven’t been invited in, but it doesn’t stop my progression to his dresser.
On a laced handkerchief I find a single red rose. Or at least what is left of it. The edges around the petals have darkened as it is beginning to wilt and dry. This rose doesn’t fit in with the image of the masculine man in the living room.
My unsteady hand raises on its own. I hold my breath as the pad of my finger inches closer to the rose, but I can’t stop the pull.
“What the fuck are you doing?” Viktor roars.
I jump, guilty at being caught in his room without his permission. The thunderous expression on his face distorts his handsome features. For the first time ever, I fear him. I freeze in place. I tell my feet to move farther into the room, but I’m stuck.
His face contorts with emotion as he looks from me to the rose. Viktor looks like a warrior out for blood. It would be beautiful, if not for the fact that he’s set on having my head on a spike. I’ve never seen him look at me with murderous intent. Holy hell, I’ll be okay to never experience this expression ever again in my life.
It doesn’t matter that this man is on crutches. His presence is larger than anything I’ve experienced on a normal day. Right now? It’s suffocating. Anger rolls off of him in waves, and I’m trying to understand what the hell just happened.
Viktor makes it to the dresser in a few strides. I tip my head and look up at him as his muscles bunch. He looks next to us, and only then do I notice the mirror. Our eyes meet in the cracked reflection, our faces spliced with the fractures, and unlike all of the other times there are no sparks of desire.
No, his energy is pulsating with so much pain that I step forward. “I’m so—”
“Get out!” he roars.
Those two words break the invisible barrier that has frozen me in place. I move around him quickly and stop at the door. “I really am sorry,” I stutter and force myself to leave. Normally, I would stand up to such behavior, but I can’t. I trespassed into his private quarters. I wasn’t invited in there. I had snuck in like a thief, and now I’m running out of that house like the hounds of hell are chasing me.
Embarrassment and shame cause tears to pool in my eyes. Moving quickly over the sidewalk, my heels hit a patch of ice and I stumble. The cold temperatures sting my skin as snowflakes fall all around me.
I realize I’ve left my boots and jacket inside the house. There is no way I’ll make my way back in there. At least not today. I throw my things in the back seat and get behind the wheel. I cover my face with my hands and let the tears fall.
A few minutes later, I examine my blotchy skin and the eye liner that has smudged below my eyes. I repair the damage as best as I can and point my car toward the hotel, hoping that two days apart is long enough to calm the beast inside of Viktor Prinz.
My fingers drum a random beat on the steering wheel as I stare up at the house. Two days. Two days without Viktor’s humor, sexiness, or gruffness, and I’m going crazy. I want to run into his house and see that handsome face so bad it hurts.
Only, what if two days hasn’t been enough to calm him down?
My heart and my mind are in a battle of wills at this point. My mind reminds me that anything with Viktor would cross a line I’ve never crossed before in my career, potentially ruining my good name and reputation.
My heart. Shoot, it reminds me constantly of the man. There is so much under that mask of thick skin, made of pain and anger. I haven’t come close to penetrating his armor. My heart doesn’t seem to care about what my mind is telling me. My heart just wants to rip off his clothes. To lick every patch of skin exposed above and below the belt. I chuckle as my core clenches at the image. My body is completely on board with my heart.
Although, none of it matters if Viktor doesn’t feel the same way I do—a very probable scenario after what happened the last time I saw him. Surprisingly, he called a few times over the weekend. I ignored each call like a wuss, fully expecting him to tell me off and inform me that I was no longer his physical therapist. Toby didn’t say anything about changing Viktor’s treatment though, so here I am.
“Put on your big girl panties, Isabel.”
After a deep breath, I begin gathering my things from the trunk. Today the skies are blue, after the weekend storm that hit us. I look to my left and smile because once again someone has cleared the sidewalk and laid down salt. Good thing too, since my good snow boots are inside that house.
Carefully I walk up to the house, all the while giving myself a pep talk so I don’t chicken out. With a shaky hand, my knuckles strike the wooden door. When the door opens, we only stare at each other. Gone is the tortured and angry man from Friday afternoon.
“Belle…” he whispers.
I love his nickname for me, and I don’t think I can bear to hear it from anyone else. “Viktor.” I bite my lip because I don’t know what else to say or do.
He hops back so I can enter. A good sign. I cross the threshold and remind myself not to show this rabid dog fear. After biting back a giggle at the comparison, I turn toward him as he shuts the door.
I tilt my head back and study him. His face is beautiful. We’re about a foot apart, and the need to touch him is almost overwhelming. “You’re getting stronger,” I tell him, and my brows crease at how lame I sound.
His hand raises slowly, and the air in the room disappears. His thumb caresses the apple of my cheek before the large paw of a hand cups my face. I tell myself not to lean into it, but my heart overrules it. My lids flutter closed, and a soft sigh passes my lips.
Isabel Marchant, move away. This is a bad idea, my mind yells.
Yes! Yes! More! Make me yours! my heart chants.
“Belle, I’m so fucking sorry…” he whispers, and his breath warms my face.
I force myself to look at him, and I see his anguish. “It’s o—”
“No!” His eyes shut tight for a moment as he takes a deep breath. “No, Belle. My behavior was not okay. You didn’t deserve that.”
“Viktor, I’m sorry. I just saw the rose and it pulled me in, but that’s no excuse. I should have never been in your room.”
“I shouldn’t have yelled at you like that.” His thumb rubs small circles on my cheek, drawing me deeper into the abyss of insanity—wanting…needing more of Viktor.
“I wasn’t invited in there. Your room is off-limits,” I say before my mind, the bitch, adds, “I shouldn’t be in my patient’s bedroom.”
His thumb stills, and I watch the wall slam shut behind his eyes. Inside me, a steel band tightens around my heart. I want to say more, but I know I shouldn’t. No matter how bad I want to.
Viktor nods past me as he grabs his crutches under his arms. “You forgot your jacket and boots. I called to tell you, but you must have been busy.” Hurt coats the deep voice I normally enjoy so much.
He moves farther into the house and I’m left standing there, trying to understand the switch in his behavior. Any question as to whether this thing between us is just in my head had been squashed with that short encounter.
I force my mind to focus on the plan I created for him this week. He silently tracks me from afar as I set up for our session. “How are you feeling?” I ask, noting the hardness in his eyes.
“My leg feels good.”
I hear what he says and what he leaves out. His leg is fine, but that is all that is fine. I nod in understanding, unable to hide the wave of sadness that flows through me. “Have you been using your crutches every day?”
“Yeah.”
“Okay,” I say, pushing aside the growing frustration I feel from his cold attitude. “You’re getting strong, but I want you stronger. I want to work on your balance this week.”
Today’s session starts out like all the others. Except this time, so many of the things that have been left unsaid between us float around, threatening to strangle us.
When I place my hand on his forearm, his muscles bunch under my touch. I force my hand to stay still, even though my fingers itch with the need to explore. “We okay?”
“A-okay, beast master,” he teases, and I chuckle before his face becomes serious. “Belle, I’m good if you’re good.”
“Honey, I’m good.” The endearment slips out, but I don’t have the strength to beat myself up over it. If only things were different, I think to myself before moving our attention to today’s activities.
Viktor Prinz will be my biggest accomplishment to date. He’s so freaking strong and motivated, and he’s improved faster than I could ever hope for in such little time.