Page 68 of Covetous

I can’t sit still any longer. Jumping up, I blurt, “I have to go.”

“Where are you going?”

“To the police station.”

She follows me to the door, her voice gentle but firm. “Why don’t you wait here for him? There isn’t much you can do. Q’s a lawyer. He’ll handle it. And I think it’ll be good for them as brothers to have this moment.”

I get what she’s trying to say with how fragile their relationship has been in the past. Fatima puts a comforting hand on my shoulder, steadying me. Reluctantly, I nod, letting her guide me back to the couch.

What happens now? Will Ian press charges? Victor could be facing serious consequences. And then there’s Ian’s family. What will they think of all this? Will they blame me? I doubt Ian will admit to hitting me, knowing his family would tear him apart for it. Maybe he’ll keep quiet to protect his reputation.

Fatima’s voice cuts through the chaos in my head. “Like my aunt Helena says, and this too shall pass.”

“You’re right.” I give a small smile, grateful for her presence.

We sit in silence for a while before she speaks up. “I know the timing is terrible, but I have a huge favor to ask you.”

Surprised, I turn to her. “Sure, what do you need?”

She holds up a small paper bag. “I’m supposed to take my IVF shot today. Q usually helps me, but with everything going on…” Her voice trails off, and I see the hope and worry in her eyes.

It clicks for me, and I give her a reassuring smile. “You need someone to give you the shot.”

Relief spreads across her face, and she nods. “If it’s not too much to ask.”

I give her hand a squeeze, my own problems temporarily forgotten. “It’s no problem at all. I’m happy to help.”

Fatima visibly relaxes. “Thank you, girl. You have no idea how much this means to me.”

As I help her with the shot, my own worries fade into the background for a moment. It feels good to focus on someone else, to be there for them when they need it.

It’s been two hours since Fatima left and still no Victor. Keeping myself busy to avoid worrying myself sick, I’ve been flipping through tattoo magazines strewn about. The front door opens, and in walks Quentin, looking tired but put together in his crisp suit, not a blond hair out of place. Right behind him…

“Victor.” Moving before I even realize it, I throw myself into his arms, relief washing over me. “Are you okay?” My voice comes out muffled against his firm chest, my hands gripping his shirt tightly.

Wrapping his arms around me, he holds me close. “I’m fine.”

Pulling back just enough to look him over, I notice his knuckles are a mess of dark purple and blue bruises, the skin swollen and split in a few places. “Does it hurt? We need to get you some ice.” Worry laces my voice as my fingers gently trace the bruises.

Quentin clears his throat, prompting Victor and me to reluctantly step apart.

“I’m sorry,” I say, remembering my manners. “Hi.”

A smile, reminiscent of his father’s but not quite as bright, spreads across Quentin’s face. His hazel eyes, tired but kind, peer at me. “Skylar, right?”

“That’s me.” The one who accidentally started this whole mess by telling Victor what Ian did. Fatima’s words echo in my mind, reminding me that Victor is a grown man who made his own choice to confront Ian. Now that the initial panic has died down and I’ve heard from one of Ian’s sisters that he was attacked by some “crazy person” but won’t press charges, I can finally breathe a little easier.

“Thanks, man,” Victor says to Quentin. “For everything.”

Quentin nods, his gaze moving between us. “No problem. Just stay out of trouble from now on, okay?”

“He will,” I promise, sliding my arms around Victor’s waist.

Shaking his head, Quentin sighs, but a small smile tugs at the corners of his mouth. “Answer your phone tomorrow when I call.”

Victor nods. “I will.”

“Time for me to get home to my wife,” Quentin says, his voice softening at mentioning Fatima. Giving us one last look, a mix of understanding and warning, he says goodbye, leaving us alone in the quiet loft.

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