Chapter 43
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
VIVIAN
“Oh my god.” I suck my straw, having a way-too climactic experience with my drink. “What is this called?”
Lucy smiles as she polishes glasses. “A fizzy banana. It’s a frozen mocktail with coconut milk, seltzer water, cherries, and a banana. You know, perfect for a sex club.”
“It’s so delic—.” I grab my skull. “Oh, no. Brain freeze.”
“Put your tongue to the roof of your mouth,” Lucy suggests, grabbing a glass and filling it with water. “And drink this.” She slides it down the gleaming bar. “Anything warm will stop it.”
“Thanks.” I wince, waiting for the skull crush to end.
I just wanted something to drink so I’d have to pee. Guess that’s good enough. Sliding off the clear, acrylic barstool, I grab my camera bag. I’ve been here before, so I aim for the restrooms, telling Lucy, “Be right back.”
She waves, turning to focus on restocking glassware.
Pushing the black, padded leather door open, I find the ladies’ room empty and immaculate.
It’s so Nadine, with a lavish art deco design, featuring jade walls and a black gilded ceiling.
Gold fixtures, jade basins, and crystal chandeliers.
There’s even a seating area in the center with blush velvet chairs.
I set my bag on one.
Conflicted about whether I should wait to do this with Jace or surprise him.
Or… disappoint him.
If my pregnancy test is negative, I know he’ll be sweet about it. He’ll make a tender joke about how we’ll have fun trying again, and he won’t be wrong.
I wouldn’t mind waiting. Even though I’ve known Jace for over a year, our romance has been a sudden whirlwind. Sure, we’ve been best friends, but the lovers part is new. It’s a paradox of passionate familiarity and kinky fun, and I don’t want it to end.
But I’m three days late.
And maybe it’s because Jace is obsessed with sucking my little boobs—it gets us so hot—but they’ve been sore lately.
“Vivian Rhiannon Tate.” I grab the blue box from my bag and point it at one of the mirrors, giving myself a pep talk with my mom in my ears. “If it’s both terrifying and amazing, you should do it.”
It’s what she always says and how I feel about being a mom. Terrified. Amazed. And so damn lucky to share it with Jace.
Ducking into a black marble stall, I close the wooden door and pee on the tip of the white plastic stick.
“What do I do with this…?” I wave it around, talking to myself.
“Hello?” a woman’s voice answers. “Is someone in here?” It sounds like Lucy, the bartender.
“It’s me,” I shout back, whipping some toilet paper off the roll to wrap the stick in, making sure to hold it flat as the instructions said.
How do I explain this to Lucy? I got a urine-soaked, white plastic stick in a wad of TP; no guesses what it is.
Oh well…
If Lucy’s a woman working for Nadine, my Queen, then she’s my kind of woman.
But when I swing the door open to the stall, it’s not Lucy swiping on eyeliner at one of the vanities. It’s… It’s her twin, Luna. The mixologist from Palm Beach and the winner from the brewery.
“You.” Luna whips around, eyeliner in hand. “Oh my god, it’s you. I was hoping to see you again. What are you doing here?”
“I’m Jace’s.” Oh fuck, way to sound like archaic arm candy. “I mean… I’m Vivian Tate, and I’m here with Jace, who’s upstairs, meeting with Nadine.”
I can’t say I’m his queen; I don’t know what Luna knows.
And I can’t say I’m Jace’s girlfriend. It seems we’ve skipped right past that part to being madly in love and living together, and in about… oh, three minutes… maybe having a baby together.
“So, you’re with Jace?” Luna’s brows knit, her voice questioning. Clearly, she knows something about him. “I saw you at the brewery with him, but what about Palm Beach? At that wedding party? You were with a guy; he said he was your husband.”
“Ex-husband.” But I don’t remember Luna seeing me with David.
“Your ex?”
“Yeah, I was there for his sister’s wedding. She and I always got along, while he can rot in hell. We’re divorced.”
Luna shakes her head. “Girl, I just gotta say it.” Though she looks like a retro, blonde bombshell, her eyes are stealth. She doesn’t fuck around. “I believe in girl code, in women watching out for each other, and that ex of yours? He was giving creepy vibes, and trust me, I know them.
“It was the way he was at the bar and talking about you later with his”—she finger-quotes—“bruhs; I wanted to find you. To see if you were okay, but security made me leave, and I didn’t know your name. He just kept calling you ‘his wife.’”
My pulse skyrockets. A thousand horrifying guesses running through my mind. I’m so confused.
“What do you mean he was talking about me? I hardly spoke to him that night. I drank too fast, blacked out, and went to bed.”
Luna lowers her pierced nose, a little diamond sparkling in it.
“Not on my drinks, you didn’t. I barely put liquor in them, and this is why.
” In three steps, she’s touching my arm.
“He drugged you; that’s the vibe I got. I’ve got no proof, just a decade of bartending wisdom, but I couldn’t find you and… ”
I could cry, but I don’t.
Fury hits me way too fast.
I have every reason to believe Luna and distrust David. I don’t remember anything minutes after I slammed back one drink. Just snapshots of David’s sister, I know, putting me to bed. Then what?
“And you’re Jace Ryan’s woman?” Luna rubs my arm, making me refocus. “Right?”
“Yeah.” But half of me is still searching my memory.
Luna huffs. “So your ex is a dead man.”
Suddenly, like strobe lights, memories return. My bed. Movement. A body. A cuddle? A flash?
He didn’t.
My nostrils flare. Thinking out loud. “Not if I kill him first. Not if I—”
Shit, David’s phone.
Jace still has him captive in The Queen’s bunker, and I still have his phone at the bottom of my camera bag.
“Hang on.” I turn for my bag on the chair. In a rage, I put down the test so I can dig through to the bottom, yanking out the device.
Tapping it, the battery icon has a red bar. Hardly any power left, but it’s enough for me to open it with his dumbass passcode and click on the photo icon to check the last one taken.
My world shakes like my hands, my breath, my mind when I check the pregnancy test next.
And...
It’s positive.
Moments later, I’m standing on the threshold of The Queen’s office.
She glances up at me from her desk, her elegant face immediately falling at the look on mine. Sasha too. A woman can see it.
The kings whip around, and clock me standing, vibrating with rage.
“Viv.” Jace jumps up, rushing toward me. “Baby, what’s wrong?”