Chapter 9 - The Fitting
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The winter months bled into a crisp, freezing January. The physical therapy was yielding miraculous results. Victor’s hands no longer trembled, and the phantom pains that plagued his nights had significantly reduced. But the emotional walls were crumbling much faster than the physical ones.
One afternoon, Victor summoned Aliyah to his study.
When she entered, she found a tall, severe-looking woman holding a measuring tape, surrounded by several massive garment bags.
"What is this?" Aliyah asked, clutching her textbooks to her chest.
"The annual Syndicate Charity Gala is tomorrow night," Victor said from behind his desk, signing a stack of documents. "I am required to attend to maintain appearances and project stability. You are coming with me."
"I don't think that's a good idea," Aliyah stammered. "Mikhail said the Romanov faction is looking for weakness. If I go with you, I'll be confirming their rumors."
Victor set his pen down, his eyes locking onto hers with a fierce, possessive intensity. "If you stay hidden in this house, they will assume I am ashamed of you or terrified of losing you. If you walk into that ballroom on my arm, wearing my colors, they will know you are untouchable. You are not a weakness, Aliyah. You are my shield."
The severe-looking woman ushered Aliyah behind a folding screen, pulling garments from the bags.
An hour later, Aliyah stepped out.
She was wearing a custom-tailored, floor-length gown of deep, rich emerald green silk. It clung to her curves flawlessly, the elegant cowl neckline exposing her collarbones. It was a dress meant for a queen of the underworld.
Victor stood up from his desk. The air left his lungs in a slow, jagged exhale. He walked toward her, completely ignoring the tailor who was hastily packing her bags to leave the room.
He stopped inches away, his pale gray eyes dark with a hunger he had brutally suppressed for months. He reached out, his bare knuckles gently brushing against the exposed skin of her shoulder.
"You are breathtaking," Victor murmured, his voice a low rumble that sent shivers straight to her core.
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"I'm terrified," Aliyah whispered truthfully.
Victor leaned in, his lips brushing against her ear. "As long as you are standing next to me, the devil himself couldn't touch you."
