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“So long as you are mine, no other woman has the right to touch me but you,” he says, voice lazy yet laced with a wicked promise. “I will get really angry, and might do unthinkable things…like I almost did until you foolishly intervened.”

“What are you saying-”

His thumb slips into her mouth, and her tongue tastes it, his blood; metallic, harsh, dark. Just like him. “And I’ll do the same to any man that dares to touch you from now on without my permission…even if it’s my brother.”

“You are sick,” she spits, her trembling voice doing no justice to how strong she wants to sound. “You are seriously sick.”

He chuckles, a sound that sends chills down her spine.

“Ladybird,” he murmurs, wrapping his free hand around her waist, holding her in place while she struggles to free herself from his captivity. “You don’t have to pretend around me.”

“Let go of me.” She throws a punch but it lands weakly on his hard chest. “Let me go.”

His fingers lock around her chin. “You can fool everyone else around you, even yourself, but you can’t fool me. There has to be a reason why my darkness echoes yours. It’s because you are just like me.”

“I am not like you-”

“-You know it, deep down you know you wanted her dead the moment you found out what she did. I bet you wished the moment could be replayed and you get to push her off yourself. And I know too.” His hand slips from her waist, travelling down the curve of her ass until it disappears under her plaid skirt.

“I know you are wondering what it would look like being fucked while covered in my blood.”

“Stop it.” She whimpers, her chest constricting, her head all woozy but there is also the heat of his palm molding her ass cheek and his other hand leaving her neck to play with her nipple over the cotton shirt she has on.

“All your darkest fantasies are mine.” He pinches the pebbled nipple and a yelp leaves her lips. “I will make them play before you like a movie, and guess what?” His lips brush her jawline tentatively. “You and I will be the main characters.”

“You are actually gonna wear it?” Kenji’s voice is tight, unsettled and slightly irritated.

Vivienne shrugs, hooking the gold chain around her neck, admiring how the ruby-green pendant catches the light. “It’s pretty.”

Kenji doesn’t answer right away. But she feels his stare on her, sharp as a blade, heavy with questions he hasn’t asked yet. She’s been avoiding this conversation all evening, but the weight of it looms between them, thickening the air.

Zev’s jet had landed on the rooftop of Right Angle Hotel and Suites, a place that, judging by the way the staff bowed and scrambled to accommodate him, he likely owned.

He didn’t speak a word to her during the ride to her house.

His eyes had been locked on his laptop, fingers flying over the keys like nothing else in the world matter. Not even her.

And yet, less than an hour later, one of his men had shown up at her door, silent, unreadable.

He had handed her the small, pristine box without a word, his expression cold enough to freeze the air between them.

Even when she muttered a thank you, he only turned and strode back to the car he came in, disappearing as quickly as he had come.

Unwrapping the box, she found a necklace inside it.

She has never received a gift from a guy before, not even Ian.

This was the first time. It made her heart warm.

It made her feel special. And maybe stupid of her, it made her nearly forget how he wrapped his fingers around her throat some hours ago.

Now Kenji is watching her with something close to exasperation. And she hates that she knows what’s coming.

“We need to talk.” His voice is soft, but no less firm.

Vivienne keeps her eyes locked on the mirror as she braids her hair into a French braid. “If I already know what you are gonna say, can you like, not say it? Let’s pretend everything is fine?”

Kenji scoffs. “Obviously, you can’t be serious, right?”

She doesn’t respond.

“No.” His voice sharpens, incredulous. “You can’t actually be thinking of giving a chance to a man who nearly strangled you to death. The same man who dangled a woman off a jet like it was nothing”

“He wasn’t actually going to do it,” she murmurs, the words though, sounding thin, fragile on her tongue.

How does she convince her friend that when the man wraps his fingers around her throat, he has no intention of actually hurting her? Or that when he does that, the fear and thrill turns her on?

Kenji stands, his body stiffened. “You can’t be serious, right now.”

“He was just angry—”

“Angry enough to be ready to kill someone? Enough to put his hand around your throat and squeeze?”

“He won’t hurt me.” Her hands drop from her hair, clenching into fists and pressing against her thighs.

“That wasn’t what I saw earlier.”

“I’m serious,” she says, voice barely above a whisper. “Just let it go.”

“Come on, Vee. What’s wrong with you?” He crouches down in front of her, taking her hands in his.

“I know you desperately want someone to love you and care for you, someone to take you out of here and maybe at the beginning of it all, he seemed like the perfect man for that, but clearly he has some problems that he needs to sort out. I’ll recommend therapy.

” He squeezes her hand gently. “Please consider these problems and not settle for him.”

Vivienne swallows hard. “He just needs help.” Her throat burns. “And I already told him that I won’t leave him. Besides, I can make him better. I can help him. I can…” The words catch, shatter in her mouth. “I can make it go away. I can fix him.”

Kenji exhales sharply. “He’s not your responsibility.”

Frustration coils inside her, wrapping tight around her ribs. Why can’t he try to understand her?

“If he has problems, he should get himself checked,” he says. “He can’t drag you into his mess.”

“Just give me a few weeks.” She reaches for his hands, pleading. “I really care about him and—”

“No!” He pulls away, his eyes glossy now, and when he speaks again, his voice trembles. “This is what we call a fucking toxic relationship. What the hell is wrong with you, Vivienne?”

“Stop yelling at me.” Her chest tightens. He sounds like Isadora. Everybody sounds like Isadora when they yell at her. She can’t handle it.

Kenji notices and blinks, his expression softening.

“I-I’m sorry,” he whispers. “It’s bad enough knowing Isadora hurts you.

I can’t stand the thought of you walking into another nightmare.

” His voice cracks. “I’ll help you find someone who actually deserves you.

I’ll get you out of here. Please don’t settle for that monster. Please.”

“He won’t hurt me,” she whispers, trying to convince herself more than Kenji. “He gets angry alright, but I don’t think he’ll hurt me.”

“For Christ’s sake, Vivienne, why are you not listening to me?!”

“Okay, stop!” She rises to her feet so fast, the chair scrapes against the floor. She covers her face with her palms, fingers digging into her temple, chest heaving. “Please, just stop it.”

“Okay,” he sniffles. “I’ll—I’ll stop, okay. Just calm down.”

She sits back down on the chair, elbows propped against the wooden dresser, her face buried in her palms as tears roll down her cheeks.

A long silence settles between them, thick and suffocating.

Then, a car horn blares outside.

Kenji releases a sharp exhale. “That’s my mom,” he murmurs, his voice quiet, drained as he grabs his duffel bag, hitching it over his shoulder. “I’ll talk to you later.”

He exits the room, his footsteps fading down the hall. The front door slams shut a second later.

And just like that, she’s alone. Alone with her thoughts

Alone with the reckless choice she has made.