Page 51

Vivienne

All Vivienne takes is a glance to realize which version is sitting next to her.

And even though disappointment is suddenly a living thing stirring at the pit of her stomach, she can’t help it when her heart stutters.

They might seem like they’re two different people but they look the same.

She misses Lucan so much, she doesn’t even care if it’s the malicious version of him she gets.

Two weeks is too much time to stay without the person your heart craves so much, it feels like you would die without them.

She wants a conversation. She wants to hear him speak, no matter how cold or detached his voice.

But Zev hasn’t uttered a word since she stepped into the car.

But his jaw is sharper than usual, his eyes dark.

It seems like he is angry. But he doesn’t confront her so maybe she isn’t the source of his anger.

She tears her gaze away from him to look at the window.

And although she isn’t exactly surprised that Zev is doing something without her consent, her eyebrows furrow.

The driver has taken the opposite direction to her house.

And as much as there has never been a day she is thrilled to go home, she has to.

Carla Rivera didn’t get breakfast because she had to escape from her questioning.

She needs lunch at least. Old people shouldn’t stay without food for long.

“I—I need to go home,” she whispers, her voice slithering through the tense air, breaking the silence.

As expected, Vivienne doesn’t get any answer.

She takes a deep breath as if about to make a speech, “I have someone waiting for me at home. I need to go.”

“No, you can’t.” His reply is curt, sharp like the edges of a blade.

That spikes something bitter at the pit of her stomach, the taste crawling up only to settle on her tongue—a tangy, sharp thing.

“Are you for real right now?” Her fingers clench on her thigh. “I said, I need to go home. Is my request going over your head or something?”

She doesn’t know why she suddenly got so irritated, angry, and frustrated.

Why didn’t Lucan come? Why is he hiding for so long?

Was Zev telling the truth? Did he smother his brother?

Is Lucan gone for good? If yes, what’s the point?

Why is she sitting here? She doesn’t want to be with this one. She wants Lucan. Not Zev.

“Hey!” Her burning eyes cut sharply to the driver, tapping the back of his seat. “I don’t care what instruction has been given but turn the fucking car around, now!”

The soldier, whose face Vivienne has barely registered, glances at her through the mirror, hard cobalt eyes lacking the littlest of emotion, sending chills down her spine. But that doesn’t make her cave or waver.

Perhaps her next move is what truly makes her appear like a kid throwing a tantrum, because she leaps out of her seat, slithering through the crack between the driver and passenger seat, her fingers curling around the wheel, forcing it to stir in the opposite direction.

The tire skids, scraping the asphalt, a sharp sound hissing through the air.

Then suddenly, a yelp tears from the back of her throat when a cold hand wraps around her neck from behind, the force so cathartic it rips her fingers off the wheel, swinging her backward until her back hits the leather of her seat.

Before she can dare to recover from the whiplash of the fleeting force, Zev’s hand has moved from her neck, her jaws being crushed beneath the weight of his fingers, sharp nails digging into her soft flesh. He is hurting her…and smearing her fucking concealer.

His eyes are the darkest she has seen them, a storm that promises nothing but destruction roaring in their depths.

“Maybe we haven’t really met…” His breath is harsh against her lips. “But let me tell you, I won’t give a damn about how hard you scream or how loud you beg. I will break your pretty little neck if you try this stunt you just pulled now ever again. Do you get it?”

Vivienne’s lips part but her voice doesn’t come to her rescue, so all she does is nod frantically.

“Put that pretty mouth to use.” His nails dig deeper into her flesh. “Do you hear me?!” His voice is a guttural roar that shatters every ounce of confidence and bravery left in her.

“Yes.” So timid is the whisper, she doubts he heard it.

“Good girl,” he murmurs, his finger loosening from her jaw, his palm patting her cheek gently.

Without another word, he settles back on his seat, his hand lifting to loosen his tie.

Zev isn’t staying in a hotel like Vivienne assumed. For some reason, he is lodging in some sort of rental apartment, or maybe it’s his vacation home.

She would have let the beauty of the scenery whisk her away if she is here willingly, and if time hasn’t gone. So, she sulks, blocking out the world around her as she reluctantly follows him into the building.

The phone in her hand vibrates with an incoming call. She glances at Zev, but he is way ahead of her, lost in his own world, so she decides to answer the call before heading in.

But detangling her arms that she folds across her chest, she checks the caller’s details.

Ian.

An onslaught of emotion overwhelms her. This has to be the third time Ian is calling her today. He called while she was on her way to school. He called during lunch, and now he is calling to make sure she has closed from school for the day.

Actually, he has been calling for a very long time now when she never replied to any of his texts. Then, yesterday, she spontaneously picked up the call. She had no idea why she did that. She just did.

They talked for a while. He said he wanted them to meet, to talk properly. And frankly speaking, she felt that was a good idea too. They needed to talk. That seems to be the only way both of them can move on.

He asked when they could meet again. And Vivienne vaguely promised to meet him at Fitz’s Lit and Brew at 3 pm today.

She didn’t know then that Isadora would come and she would need to go home to keep her company.

And frankly speaking, she also didn’t know Zev was going to come out of the blue to kidnap her.

It’s currently 3:05. This means he is already there, waiting for her. But she obviously can’t see him now. Because here she is, with another man who is nothing like the prince charming Ian Griswyk could have been to her.

The phone continues to ring away, and she can almost see Ian’s desperation in every vibration.

She sneaks a peek at Lucan again. He is by the little bar in the living room, pouring whiskey into a glass. She’s still got time.

Combing her fingers through curls, she makes a beeline for the door.

“Hey,” she whispers hesitantly into the speaker when she is successfully out of earshot, hating herself for the news she is about to break to him.

“Oh, hey.” The excitement in his voice crushes her. Her eyes snap shut as guilt ridicules her conscience.

“You are at the shop, aren’t you?” she asks, biting her lower lip nervously.

“Yeah.” His reply deflates her. “Been here for about fifteen minutes.”

“Shit,” she curses under her breath.

“Is there a problem?” he inquires, disappointment already registering in his voice.

“Yeah…” she trails off, her gaze staring into the distance. “Ian, look, I don’t think I can make it.”

“Oh.”

“I’m so sorry.” Her apology can definitely not expel what he is feeling, but that is the most logical thing to do. “My grandma came over and you know, Isadora is away. I can’t just—”

“You have a grandma?” he asks, suspicion lacing his voice. It has never been a conversation worth having. Carla wasn’t really present, so there was never a point in talking about someone who wasn’t even there.

“Isadora’s mom.”

“Oh.” His calm voice echoes through the speaker. “It’s just, you never talked about her.”

“She really wasn’t in the picture much.”

“I see.”

“Maybe tomorrow, same time?” she offers.

She actually does want to see him. She really needs to clear the air at this point.

Tell him to move on or something. Actually, she isn’t sure what she wants.

If investing her emotions in Lucan and his psycho brother, who has clearly taken hold of his body now, is a bad bargain.

Or if she should just settle for the gentle love Ian gave her in the past and is clearly still willing to give.

“Tomorrow sounds fine,” Ian murmurs.

“Cool.”

“So, see you tomorrow then?” He sounds really hopeful.

“Yes, definitely.”

“Okay, bye,” he says, and she awaits his signature line. “Love you.”

She shouldn’t reply, but it’s some sort of instinct at that moment, she was teleported to the past, a phone conversation between them about to end.

“Yeah, love you too—”

But she can’t even finish the legendary line as her cell phone is ripped from her ear by a hand whose fingers leave a scathing scratch on her temple.

Vivienne doesn’t even have to turn to look at the person to know who it is. The invisible dark smoke that swirls around his existence already wraps around her.

And when she does turn to acknowledge him, his eyes are glaring daggers into the screen of her phone, his jaws hard and literally twitching.

“Give it back,” she says softly, stretching her hand for the phone.

His gaze shifts from the phone, his jaw working, and without glancing at her, he drops the phone on the tiled floor.

“What the hell is wrong with you?!” Anger roars loudly in her tone, her eyes probably spitting fire and brimstone as she glares at him.

And what makes her blood sizzle in her veins is his lack of remorse as he walks away like nothing happened.

Like he didn’t just throw her phone on the floor, like he hasn’t possibly damaged it.

Why are they doing this to her? First Isadora destroyed her desktop and her tablet. And now her phone is probably broken.

Shifting her gaze from his retreating form, Vivienne rushes for her phone, something she has been afraid to do, too scared to see the damage.