Page 59 of Viktor

Sara watched him lean over and turn the water off before leaving her alone. As soon as he closed the door, she slumped over. Her body hummed, and not from pain. Well, a little bit from pain, but it was Viktor who had her in knots. He was being so kind and gentle. Even when she got grumpy and snarky with him, he rebutted it with patience.

Groaning, she stood and looked at herself in the mirror. Her face blanched when she got a good look. The dark purpling around the left side of her jaw only highlighted her split lip. She looked awful. Taking off her shirt and jeans, she turned and inspected what she could see of her back. Dark bruises ran along it from top to bottom, with a nasty reddish-purple bruise on one hip. No wonder she hurt so much. Bastard nearly made her body one big contusion.

Sara finished stripping and stepped into the hot water. She gasped when she sat in the mountain of bubbles. It was the perfect temperature. Did he always do everything just right? It was a snide thought, but she wasn’t in a mood to deal with Mr. Bossy Perfect Man. He’d ruffled her feathers enough for one night with all his talk of her and Delia belonging to him. Then his damn brothers seemed to think it was written in stone just because he declared it so. Like she had no choice in the matter.

Assholes.

She leaned back, letting her body slip beneath the warm water. She ached everywhere. The Motrin barely took the edge off, but she’d refused any kind of stronger pain medication. She’d seen far too many people fall under their spell after only one or two doses. If she could manage with her Motrin, she would.

A knock sounded at the door. “Sara, I have the rest of your things. I’m only going to open the door enough to set them on the sink. I promise not to cop a peek.”

She smiled at the hesitation in his voice. She might be pissed, but she could admit and even appreciate everything he was doing for her. He even noticed her comfort PJs were her fuzzy ones.

“Thank you.” She barely raised her voice, but he heard her. The door cracked open, and his hand shoved through, her clothes wadded in his grip. He groped around to find the sink then quickly shut the door.

“Call me when you’re done, and I’ll help you.”

She closed her eyes. There was that bossy tone again. He could be insufferable even when he was being super sweet. It was a contradiction.

“Sara?”

She laughed. He hated when she didn’t answer him. It irritated him as much his bossiness irritated her.

“What?”

“Call me when you’re ready to come out.”

“I’m not an invalid, Viktor. I just have some bruising.”

“And sore, stiff muscles,” he rebuked through the door. “If you don’t agree to call me, I’m just gonna have to come sit on the toilet and wait you out.”

“You wouldn’t dare!”

“Try me, woman.”

He was dead serious. She heard it in his voice. Bossy bastard.

“Fine, Mr. Bossy Pants, I’ll call for you.”

She heard him laugh then walk away. He probably went no farther than the bed, waiting for her.

Sara was damn tired, but her mind was awake, running at a thousand miles a minute. It kept bouncing back between the attack, Roger, Viktor, her fear of letting Viktor in, and every other emotion she’d not let herself feel over the last month.

Scratch that. She wasn’t damn tired. She was soul weary tired. How had she let her life get so screwed up, and why couldn’t she have met Viktor first? She wouldn’t have Delia if she’d met Viktor first, though, so she supposed one good thing came out of the biggest mistake of her life. Her baby girl meant more to her than anyone or anything. She’d suffer through the abuse of the last seven years all over again for her daughter.

She slipped under the water, letting its warmth soothe every ache she had. Her hair splayed out around her, and she looked up through the water, the lights distorted. It was how her life felt right now. Distorted and out of control.

When she couldn’t hold her breath another minute, she sat up, the water pouring off her in rivulets. The smallest movement hurt, but she forced herself to grab the soap. She wanted to scrub the feel of her attacker’s hands off her. A shudder rolled through her at the memory, and she felt around her head until she found the tender spot. She’d cracked his nose, and he’d all but pulled her hair out in the same spot. Her head had taken a beating.

She scrubbed herself, much like she had many a night after Roger came home feeling in the mood. She’d hated him on her skin too. The man who’d come for her today meant to leave with her. She had a feeling he’d have taken her straight to Roger, and then God knew what would have happened. Her ex was crazy. She suspected he’d kill her before he let anyone else have her.

Knowing she’d been seen around town with another man might have set him off. He was a jealous, possessive ass who’d beaten her on more than one occasion because she’d smiled at a stranger. She could only imagine the depth of his depravity if he suspected she was sleeping with Viktor, as his mother implied. There was no telling what lies that woman filled his head with. Sara had never liked his mother, but then again, his mother never liked her either. No one was good enough for her baby boy.

She snorted. That woman was as blind as a bat when it came to Roger. She’d never believe Roger was capable of hurting her, let alone Delia. Roger fed his mother lie after lie, and she happily went along with it. Her only saving grace, at least in Sara’s eyes, was that she adored Delia. She loved her granddaughter as much as she did Roger and would do anything in the world for her. It was why Sara told her she could visit Delia at the farm whenever she wanted.

She rolled her aching shoulders. Time to do the hair. She pulled the drain on the tub and worked to stand up. It took her three tries. Her back protested loudly. She sat on the edge of the tub and turned the water back on and adjusted the temperature until it was hot enough to pull the little lever for the shower. Hot water sprayed down, and she struggled to stand. It took her four tries. Tomorrow would be worse, though. She knew that from experience. The soreness would set it. Better to get her hair washed tonight than try to do it tomorrow when her muscles would be screaming in protest.

It took her fifteen minutes to get her hair washed, and when she finally managed to turn the water off, it was starting to run cold. She sat there for a minute before she reached for the towel. Her muscles were protesting, her face was on fire, and all she wanted to do was crawl into bed.

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