Victor - Her Ruthless Husband (Ruthless Triad 3)

We’re not…we’re not reunited. But in the next moment, I find myself with my hand on the door's handle. A moth helplessly drawn to a dangerous flame.

I consider knocking. But what if the light is of the night light variety? It's so late. He could be asleep.

Besides, moths don’t knock. They just do things they shouldn’t, too entranced to think about the consequences.

So I open the door as quietly as possible, trying my best not to wake him if he's in bed.

But I find him sitting in a wingback chair by a fire. Shirtless and dressed in nothing but a pair of black silk pajama bottoms. And get this, he's reading. Not a magazine or manga, but an actual book.

Like he’s the featured model in an advertisement for smart girl porn.

He looks up when I come in and immediately sets the book aside. “Is everything all right?”

He appears so alarmed to see me that my stomach twists with guilt…and a heap load of embarrassment.

“Everything's fine. Don't worry,” I rush to assure him before explaining, “I couldn't sleep. And when I got up for a glass of water, I saw that your light was still on.”

He visibly relaxes. And that does something to my heart.

I’ve appreciated adulting by myself in Pittsburgh. I love going where I want and doing whatever I please. Plus, living by myself has been a much-needed confidence boost before undergoing the hugest journey of my life into motherhood.

But I have to admit, it feels nice to have someone close by who worries about my well-being.

“Would you like me to get the glass of water for you?” he asks. “It's no problem.”

I realize he’s mistaken why I came in here.

And I think about taking the excuse again. I really do. But in the end, I admit, “I think I'm just a little unsettled by the thunderstorm. Is it okay if I sit in here with you for a bit?”

He regards me, the shadows of the fire flickering across all the sharp angles in his beautiful but harsh face.

Then he indicates the other wingback chair. As I walk further into the room, more details emerge from the shadows. It’s a giant suite like the one he had in Japan. But instead of a gym area, there’s a whole living room set up in front of the fireplace.

There’s also no wall separating out the bedroom here. So I can see his sleeping arrangement on the other side of the suite. Two hanging metal pendant lights gently illuminate a steel black four-poster stencil frame surrounding a Japanese-style bed.

I quickly shift my gaze away from his elegant bedroom furniture and gingerly take the seat he offered. It’s black and severe with silver finishes. But it’s a lot more comfortable to sit in than it looks. Warmed by the fire and surprisingly plush.

It occurs to me that I could read a book as well.

But all of the books sitting on the table feature Chinese characters across their fronts. So I settle back into the chair and try to look like I’m not nervous as hell, as the weather continues to beat on kettledrums in the distance.

I glance over at Victor to see if he’s buying my unbothered act. But to my surprise, he's looking right back at me. He hasn't picked back up his book.

Which I guess means I should attempt a little bit of a conversation.

“So…is this your usual nighttime routine, or were you having trouble sleeping too?” I ask him.

When we lived together for that short time of peace back in the spring, he always went to bed when I did, and sometimes a little earlier if I had to stay up for a project. I wouldn’t be surprised if this is his usual routine, though.

He signs, “Sleep doesn't come as easy to me these days.”

The fire is so cozy. It makes me a little bolder than I might have otherwise been.

“Because of the nightmares?” I ask.

A tense beat. Then he picks a bookmark up off the table and re-closes the book with it inside. “I should give sleep another try. I have a meeting in New York tomorrow.”

So I guess that's my cue to go….

I think of that cold and dark hallway waiting for me outside his door, along with his words from this afternoon.

Our relationship can be anything you want it to be. It's up to you.

“You said it was up to me to decide…” I remind him just as he’s about to stand up. “What if I wanted to sleep here tonight?”

Victor pauses mid-stand, looks to the side, then back at me.

“Not to do anything,” I clarify. “Just sleep.”

Another tense beat passes. Then Victor finishes standing up and goes to the door, the same as he had in his office earlier in the day when he decided to dismiss me.