Butterfly's Year

22. Curly problems

I would have preferred to spend a lazy morning in bed with Victor, but we had to keep pushing this cart called life forward, so I reluctantly started getting ready for university.

I was putting on my shoes when his phone rang. He had a brief conversation with someone in a curt tone. His face grew more and more troubled with each sentence, and when he hung up, he looked at me, worried.

– What? – I asked casually, holding the keys to my pearl-white Porsche.

– Maybe I should drive you to university today? – he suggested.

I looked at him more closely because, given that he had just bought me a car and insisted that I drive it, his offer seemed at least odd.

– Why? – I asked, raising my eyebrows in surprise. – Didn't you buy me this luxury car so I could drive it?

– Yes, but... – Victor glanced at me and then quickly looked away. – I wanted to lighten your load after everything that happened yesterday...

– Yeah, and I'm the Empress of China – the little voice inside me muttered skeptically. – You're hiding something, sweetheart.

– I feel fine – I declared because since he had splurged on me, I intended to use his gift, regardless of what he had concocted in his head today. – You don't need to babysit me. Though it's very sweet of you.

I gave him a grateful smile and headed to the elevator, but his firm voice stopped me.

– Paulina... – he said very, very seriously.

I turned to face my beloved, having rolled my eyes beforehand to harmlessly vent my frustration.

– What? – I sighed and looked at him expectantly.

– You're not driving your car,– he announced in a grave tone.

– Why not?

Victor didn't answer, he just sighed heavily, then put on his jacket and led me to the elevator, through the underground parking lot, until he stopped in front of the Porsche, where the distressed building manager stood.

– We really have no idea when the perpetrator got in here – he began apologetically. – We're very sorry... really...

The pearl-white Porsche looked like a picture of misery and despair. Its windows were smashed, the front windshield was dented—probably also from a hit—and the finishing touch was the scratched paint and the word "madwoman" on the hood.

"At least not 'whore' or something like that" – the little voice inside me observed. – "It's always nicer to seek help from a good psychiatrist than to stand under a streetlamp".

Vic was exceptionally calm, considering someone had just essentially destroyed his property. He didn't yell at anyone, didn't growl, not even a glare. He just told the man standing next to the damaged car to do his best, and that he would deal with the car once he had taken care of other important matters.

He instructed me to get into his car, and only when I did, and he walked around the Bentley to take the driver's seat, did I notice him clenching his fists in anger and gritting his teeth silently.

– Do we know who did this? – I asked once we had already pulled out onto the crowded street and immediately got stuck in traffic, and Victor loosened his grip on the steering wheel a bit.

– No – he replied curtly. – At least not yet. But I have a suspect.

– The blond guy from yesterday? – I asked, trying to catch his gaze fixed on the car ahead of us.

– Mhm – he grunted. – He saw us getting out of it, and since you drove him away yesterday, he took revenge on us differently.

I didn't ask any more about it because it was hard to disagree with him. His theory made sense.

– Damn it! – he suddenly shouted out of nowhere and slammed his hands on the steering wheel in anger, making me jump.

After the initial shock passed, I looked at him gently.

– Don't worry – I said in a comforting tone. – It's just a car. I know it was expensive, but...

– It's not about the stupid car! – he interrupted me, clearly irritated. – I'll buy you a new one. That's not the problem. It was supposed to be safe here! And that is the problem! I wanted to file a complaint after yesterday, but today is just too much! What are they paying them for?!

I didn't respond because I had no idea what to say or how, so his words faded into the luxurious interior of the car, and we drove in complete silence for a while, disturbed only by the dynamic hum of the powerful engine. Victor never turned on the radio while driving. I never noticed it until now, but today it would have been very useful to break the heavy silence between us.

– It's because of me – I finally murmured shyly, shrinking into the seat.

I really felt guilty. If I hadn't put on that act with seduction and knives, I would never have danced with him that day, and there wouldn't have been any misunderstanding or outdated grievances.

– No – Victor immediately denied with conviction, giving me a caring look. – It's not your fault. No man with principles handles things this way. No matter what you did to him. They have terrible security!

I gave a faint smile in response. It was nice that he thought so, but I felt differently. If it weren't for me and my dangerous games, there wouldn't be any issue. I'd be driving my new Porsche now, much to Victor's delight, and he'd be wondering what other expensive and completely unnecessary gift to buy me next.