Chapter 43 43
STEVE POV
This is not how I planned it. Every year has always been the same pattern. I expected to just be alone all through the 3 days.
Even the three days was cut short.
I watched Freya kneel in front of my mom’s picture. She looked small on the floor, showing my mother a respect I hadn't seen from anyone else.
It felt like two worlds were colliding—my dark, jagged past and the woman who was slowly becoming my present.
My phone suddenly rang in my pocket. I pulled it out and looked at the screen. It was Victor.
She stood up, brushing her knees. At almost the same moment, my phone started ringing again.
Victor—
I ignored it. Whatever Victor wanted to say right now might distract me, and I wasn't in the mood for interruptions. I didn't want the noise of the city or the business of the gym to ruin this moment. I slid the phone back into my pocket.
Freya suddenly stopped midway, hesitating like there was a problem. My eyes dropped to her dress. There's a tear around one side of it, the result of last night's fuck. The fabric was ruined, but not that bad, though. Without a word, I walked over to her. I gripped the torn fabric near her hip and ripped the rest of it open in one smooth motion. I used my hands to adjust the remains of the material, turning what was left into a daring, open-lapel dress that exposed more of her skin.
“Wow,” Freya breathed. She stared down at herself in the mirror by the door. Even though she had flinched the first time I tore the dress, seeing the final result left her stunned. She ran her hands over the new lines of the garment. She looked a little impressed with what I had done.
“Good job," she muttered and walked away.
We headed outside to the car. I walked her to the passenger side.
"I walked to the driver," I said while also texting Ajax to come down and get the bike. I got behind the wheel and started the engine. The car roared to life.
A couple of minutes in, my phone rang again. The vibration on the center console was insistent. I glanced at the screen. Victor again. He was not the type to call three times unless something was burning down. Still, I wasn't ready to let the world back in. I silenced it and dropped the device back into the console without a second thought.
The drive was short, only about five minutes. The trees blurred past us, and the sun started to climb higher, hitting the windshield at an angle that made me squint. Somewhere along the quiet road, I noticed Freya shifting in her seat. She wasn't looking at the scenery. She kept stealing glances at me. Her expression was strange—part curious, part uncertain, and part something I couldn't quite name. She suddenly looked different…
I felt her eyes on the side of my face for the third time. I kept my gaze fixed on the road, but it was so hard to ignore it.
“What is it? ” I finally asked. My voice was low but calm.
“Mark…” she said softly.
“Mark?” It sounds so unexpected. That was the last name I expected to hear her say in this car. I almost stepped on the brake hard enough to lock the tires, but I managed to hold the steady pace. I looked at Freya. Her face had gone pale, her eyes wide and filled with a sudden, sharp fear.
Deep down I never wanted to hear that name again. Since Freya pleaded for me not to touch him, I have drawn that line. I have stayed away from his house and his office. It felt more like a trap I was forced to walk into. I had let go of him as much as he didn't trigger me, but seeing his name on my screen while she was sitting right there felt like a violation of the peace we had just found.
"What about him?" I asked. My grip on the wheel was tight.
Freya’s face went to my phone. She touched the screen of the phone to light it up. Because the phone was sitting face-up in the console between us,
There's a notification that stays on the screen; I don’t know how long, but I'm sure Freya read the half text on it.
The text-
"There's a problem, Boss, Mark—"
The text was short, but since Freya’s eyes caught it, she already connected the dots. She knew that seeing her ex-husband's name next to the word "problem" made her whole body go stiff. She shifted in her seat, her fingers gripping the edge of the torn dress.
"What about him?" I asked. My grip on the wheel was tight, but my phone rang again, interrupting the moment.
I let out an exhale, and I picked up my phone. It was Victor again; I finally had no choice but to pick it up. I pressed the call button and put the phone to my ear.
"Speak," I commanded.
"We have a problem; Mark attacked Lila," Victor said. His voice was flat and professional, but the words hit like a hammer. "He stabbed her."
“What?” I said. I felt my blood turn to ice. I looked at Freya. She was staring at me, trying to read my expression, but she didn't seem to hear Victor's voice on the other end of the line. She was still stuck on the fact that his name was in the text.
Victor went on. He didn't wait for me to process the news. He asked what we should do next. He told me that Mark is now in the ring. My men had picked him up. He had been there since last night, locked away in the basement. Victor said that though Mark keeps denying it, Lila is now at the hospital. She was in bad shape.
“I will be right there,” I said. My voice was a low growl.
I dropped the phone back into the console without looking at Freya. My heart was thudding against my ribs. I was never explaining this to her. There's no way I wouldn't tell her that the father of her child had tried to kill his mistress.
I stepped on the gas.
“I hope there’s no problem." Freya asked slowly.