I push myself out from in front of him and walk toward the tables with the television screens.
“That may be true,” I say. “I may help with things, but the real truth is”—I look over at him when he steps up next to me—“is that you could easily do without me here. Victor, I’m not looking for pity. I’m not waiting for you to tell me how wrong I am and then point out all of the reasons why—Nora is right about me being in over my head. I accept that. I don’t want to be lied to. But what I do want…well, I don’t want that to be the truth. I want to change it. I want to prove myself an asset and not just wear the crown because I share your bed.”
Victor sighs heavily.
“What are you saying, Izabel?”
With my arms crossed, I look back over at him.
“I want you to send me on a mission alone. A real one, not some training mission, but a real, money-paying, kill-or-be-killed mission like you’d send Niklas on. And I don’t want your men following me, either. I told you a long time ago, the night I dropped Sarai and became a part of your Order, that I don’t need a babysitter.” My gaze hardens on him. “And if I do need one, then I don’t belong here. I want to be treated like everyone else and not be given special treatment. It’s the only way I’ll ever truly learn.”
The center of Victor’s throat moves as he swallows, the outline of his rigid, unshaved jaw shifts as he grinds his teeth.
“I’ll think about it,” he says.
“No,” I shoot back, “you’ll do this for me or things between us are going to get complicated.”
His greenish-blue eyes become flecked with anger, but it remains settled there.
“You know she’s manipulating you, right?” he says about Nora.
“Yes I know that,” I answer right away, offended. “She’s manipulating every one of us—you don’t think I know that?”
He shakes his head.
“You think I went in there to prove a point, only for my plan to backfire?” My voice rises and my demeanor begins to change uncomfortably. “I knew what I was doing when I went in there, Victor. I knew that she’d trust me to open up if she could believe that my act was real, that I truly felt that way. But the thing is, it was easy to pull off not because I’m good at it, not because it’s one of my ‘skills’, but because it was how I felt. I was believable because I wasn’t lying. About anything.”
“You’re not giving yourself any credit at all,” he says. “Typical.”
“What’s that supposed to mean—typical?”
Victor shakes his head. “The things you told Nora may have been true,” he says, “but that doesn’t mean you didn’t accomplish the very thing you went in there for. Just because everything you told her was true, doesn’t mean you’re not good at what you do.”
“And what is it that I do exactly, Victor?”
“Well, for starters, you can’t be satisfied with what you can do,” he says, his voice laced with accusation and sarcasm. “You’ve this incessant need to prove yourself, to me, to everyone else. Now you want me to send you on a mission alone. You’re not ready.”
Neither of us says anything else for several long moments. I don’t want to argue about this right now—we have less than six hours left—but it’s definitely a topic for later. I won’t let Victor forget it and he knows as much.
I feel the warmth of Victor’s hand touch my neck as he pushes my hair away from my shoulder and onto my back.
I look over at him.
“You are beautiful, Izabel. Your defiance provokes me. Your mouth infuriates me. Your obsession with independence makes me question everything you do. But I love every single thing about you.” He tilts his head slightly; his eyes regarding me quietly for a moment—my stomach flutters and my heart starts to break. “I know I’m not your first anything, but I hope that I’ll be your last everything.”
There it is—my heart finally broke. Into a million fucking pieces.
I look away from his eyes.
Did Victor hear me tell Nora that I used to love Javier? I know he heard everything—even if he didn’t, I’m sure Niklas gladly filled him in.
“I’m sorry,” I say, looking back at the screen. “I know I told you once that I never loved Javier, but I was ashamed admitting it back then.” I glance at the floor. “I’m still ashamed admitting it.”
“You cannot help or control who you fall in love with,” he says. “It was a long time ago, and you were in an extraordinary situation, and I cannot fault you for it, or tell you that it was wrong.”
My eyes meet his again. “Doesn’t it bother you?”
He hesitates and then answers, “No. As I said, it was a long time ago.”
We don’t say anything to each other for a while.
Then finally I step up closer to him and push up on my toes, kissing his lips.
“You are my last everything,” I say softly, my eyes searching his.