years in a coffin when she needn't have. One more night, she might be able to handle.
But four was asking too much.
"You'll deliver the bed tomorrow," Victor said calmly.
Elvi glanced at him in surprise, but her gaze shot back to the manager as he said, "We'll
deliver the bed tomorrow."
"No," she said sharply as she realized that Victor had to be somehow controlling the
man just as Alessandro had controlled the police officer and made him stop pursuing
them. There was no way the sales manager had changed his tune so quickly without
some incentive unless Victor had somehow made him. The fact that the woman
behind the counter was gaping at the man as if he'd suddenly sprouted another head,
also seemed to suggest this wasn't normal. And as badly as she wanted the bed
delivered tomorrow, Elvi wasn't willing to get it this way.
Catching at Victor's arm, she hissed, "No, Victor."
"You need a bed," he said simply.
"Here you are, all set."
Elvi glanced around to see the manager holding out her copy of the invoice. "It will be
there tomorrow afternoon if I have to deliver it myself. Thank you for shopping here."
"Thank you." Victor took the receipt Elvi refused to accept.
"Victor," she said grimly, but he simply turned her toward the exit.
"You can't do this," Elvi protested as he urged her out of the building.
"Relax," he murmured, steering her toward the car. "You paid for the bed and
delivery."
"That's not the point," Elvi snapped, coming to a halt on the parking lot pavement and
turning on him. Spotting the other men watching with fascination, she paused, and
then glanced around before grabbing Victor's arm and urging him away and around
the building out of sight.
Elvi made it a practice never to argue with, or berate, someone in front of others. To
her mind it was embarrassing and no matter how angry she got, there was no reason
to humiliate someone that way.
Pausing on the grass between the building on one side and the trees on the other, Elvi
turned to face him, took a breath for patience and sought her mind for an argument to
make him see what he was doing was wrong.
"It's wrong," she blurted finally.
Heaving a deep sigh, Victor shifted his stance and crossed his arms as if his patience
was being tested here rather than hers.
"What's wrong about it exactly?" he asked. "You bought a bed, you paid for it, you paid
for delivery and are getting delivery when you want. It's not like you got the bed for
free or anything."
"Yes, but they don't deliver on Sundays."
"'Apparently now they do," Victor said mildly.
"No they don't," Elvi said shortly. "You—you influenced him."
He cocked one eyebrow. "Influenced him?"
Elvi made an impatient gesture. "I don't know what it is exactly you people do, but you
did something, because they don't deliver on Sundays and only deliver to Port Henry
on Wednesdays."
"Elvi, do you really want to wait until Wednesday for the bed?"
She scowled. "Of course not, but that's not the point."
"What is the point, then?" he asked growing impatient.
"You made him do something he didn't want to do," she said.
"How do you know? Maybe he really wanted to deliver it for you tomorrow. Besides,
what does it matter? No one is hurt by this."
"How do you know?" Elvi shot back. "Maybe whoever he forces to deliver it tomorrow
had something else he had to do and can't do now. Maybe it's his daughter's birthday
and now he's going to miss it, and his wife will be upset, and it will all end in divorce.
Or maybe someone he loves is in hospital and he would have visited them, but won't
be able to and the person dies and he missed out on seeing that person one last time."
"Dear God," Victor muttered and shook his head with disbelief. "You think way too
much."
Elvi ground her teeth together and said, "So where does it end?"
Confusion crossed over his face. "Where does what end?"
"Are you controlling me too?" she asked.
"Of course not," he waved the idea away as ridiculous.
"No? How do I know?"
"I wouldn't do that," Victor assured her firmly.
"Really? Why not? You controlled him."
"He is mortal."
Elvi stiffened. "Until five years ago I too was mortal," she pointed out coldly, and then
glared. "You know what you are? You're a .. a… mortalist."
"A mortalist?" Victor echoed. "What the hell is that?"
"It's like a racist only—" Elvi's explanation died in her throat as something suddenly