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She picked up on the second ring. “You’re alive. That’s good.”
“Barely,” I muttered. “You working today?”
“Yeah. Why?”
“I need you. After. Something high. Something fast.”
A pause. “Are we talking skydiving again or illegal street racing?”
“I don’t care. Just promise me something stupid. Something dangerous.”
Jessa sighed. “You sound like you need a full exorcism, not a thrill ride. I thought you were mad. After the meeting?—?”
“Just do this with me. Please.”
She hesitated, and for a minute I wondered if she’d refuse. “Okay,” she finally said reluctantly. “I get off at six. Meet me at the church parking lot off East Bay. We’ll take it from there.”
“Thanks.”
“You sure you don’t want to talk instead?”
“No.”
She didn’t press.
Just said, “See you then,” and hung up.
I slid the phone back into my pocket and stared up at the sky, already trying to figure out what version of myself I could become next. The fearless one. The fun one. The broken one in too-tight jeans and a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes.
Because being the girl who needed saving?
I wasn’t ready for her yet.
22
ELIAS
Vivi’s absence hit like a void, heavy as the silence that filled my suite after she slipped away. I wasn’t surprised she’d left.
Her sobs, her curled-up form, had cracked something in me. I knew better than to chase her now. She needed space, a moment to breathe outside my world.
Every instinct screamed to follow. To find her, hold her, keep her safe. But I stayed put. There was work to do, and I’d be ready when the call came to pick her up from whatever chaos she’d stirred.
I sat at my desk, screens casting a cold glow across the room.
Vivi’s lingering aura clung to my skin. A ghost that made my chest ache and my cock stir despite the hour. I longed for her, not just her body but her laugh, her defiance.
The flicker of hope in her eyes when I’d promised her my riches haunted me. But longing wouldn’t bring her back faster. Code would keep me sane until she needed me.
I started with Jessa Lane. Vivi’s texts confirmed she was meeting her, and Jessa’s urgent messages—We need to talk. Tonight—still set my demon on edge.
I fired up a script to rescan Jessa’s digital footprint, deeper this time. Social media, phone records, anything I’d missed. My fingers moved across the keyboard, steady but restless.
My mind was half on Vivi. I imagined her striding through Charleston’s wet streets, curls catching the light. I wanted to be there, shadowing her, keeping reporters and authorities at bay.
But I stayed. Buried myself in work. Trusted she’d call when she was ready.
Jessa’s profile came up clean. Barista, Charleston native, no criminal record. Instagram showed coffee art, blurry shots with Vivi kayaking, laughing.