15. Vian
VIAN
It’s more than nice, and her awed expression proves it. Pride warms my chest. I love being the one to pull that reaction from her.
I round the car and settle into the low seat, the leather mixing with her sweet scent in a heady combination.
Buckling herself in, she gets comfortable, and I press the start button. Hundreds of horsepower vibrate beneath us, eliciting a giggle from her. The divine sound resounds through me, pounding through my insides with new life force. Making this woman happy has always been a compulsion driving me.
I am still debating whether this moment is real or a figment of my imagination. After so long without her, it wouldn’t surprise me if I lost my mind. I don’t care either way, as long as I have her in any form, shape, or dimension there is.
“How was the meeting?” she asks, sounding genuinely interested.
That’s a good sign, right? She has me in knots.
“There’s an issue I have to take care of.”
“We can postpone our date. Work is important.”
I glance at her so she can see how earnest I am. “Nothing is more important than the time we spend together.”
A contrite look contorts her face, and she fidgets with her fingers, torn between giving in and putting distance between us. This is not taking it slow, but it’s still pure torture.
“I can’t read you. It’s uncanny. Dangerous too.”
“You can read me all right. You simply don’t know what to make of the knowledge.”
She looks out the window, seeming deep in thought. “Is your world always this black and white?”
“There is something, or there isn’t.”
“Quite simplistic.”
I wave a hand through the air before raking it through my hair. “All those shades of gray make it confusing.”
“Life is all about shades.”
“Not in mine.”
The drive passes too fast for my liking, and we soon reach the restaurant. It’s the best in town, booked months in advance, but because I funded the chef, I get a table without a reservation.
Inside, the ma?tre d’ recognizes me and rushes to bring us to a secluded table that has the best view.
“Wow,” she says, taking in the exotic setting. It’s as humid as the , and the calls of indigenous birds and animals fill the air. An artificial waterfall cascades to her right, the dim light enhancing the experience.
I knew she would like it, but getting the confirmation puts me at ease.
The server comes immediately. “The chef wishes to prepare a special menu for you, if that’s all right.”
I wait for her to answer, and her eyes spark at the prospect. “That would be lovely.”
He presents me with a bottle of red wine, and I gesture for him to pour us the Chateau Petrus.
Bowing his head slightly, he fills our glasses and leaves.
While she sweeps her gaze over the restaurant, I can’t take my eyes off her.
Sipping from her glass, she says, “I could get used to living in Chicago.”
“Wait until you taste the pizza.”
“I love pizza,” she says, and it might as well be a fist thrown straight at my chest and sucker-punching my heart.
I know, mi sol. I fucking know. While I remember everything, you forgot everything. I don’t know which one has it worse.
“It’s my favorite too.”
“We should get pizza next time.” She smiles, slipping more into the woman who desires to stay, trusting me and herself more in my presence.
The first course arrives, and by her second glass, she’s tipsy and loose-tongued.
I limit myself to one glass. I am driving and must ensure she gets back safely.
“You met Conrad, right?”
I offer a noncommittal sound, and she covers her mouth, muffling her giggles. “He’s like family, but I hit on him once.”
That’s new information, and it knots my muscles. I crack my neck to loosen the stiffness. It takes everything in me to appear calmer than I feel. I swear, if he betrayed my trust, he’s a dead man. He already did, so the asshole just sealed his fate.
“And?” I say through clenched teeth. Masking the rage demands inhuman willpower.
“Nothing. It was just a kiss,” she says with no inflection, appearing unaffected.
Just a fucking kiss?
Fisting the cutlery, my knuckles turn white from the pressure. I wouldn’t be surprised if I bent the fine silver.
I arch a brow, and she waves me off. “I had a weak moment, and he was there.”
He was fucking there because I couldn’t be.
“He stopped me from going further, which was quite a bummer.”
Seeing her dejected adds even more torment, splitting me apart. I don’t know which is worse: being jealous of the kiss or being mad at him for causing her discomfort.
“In hindsight, it was the right choice. He’s a man I trust with my life. It would have been a mistake mixing business with pleasure.”
“Good.”
“Did you have an office affair?”
“You had no office affair,” I grit out.
She bursts into laughter and wiggles her eyebrows at me. “Are you jealous?”
“Don’t know. Am I?”
She tilts her head, wearing a mischievous gleam. “I think you are. It’s quite sweet but hypocritical, as you weren’t in my life then. I don’t like complicated relationships.”
I’ve always been involved in her life, but that is not the point. “Me neither, so let’s uncomplicate them by establishing some ground rules. My only hard pass is cheating. I won’t excuse it. I won’t stand for it.”
The amused look vanishes from her eyes, and she straightens up, looking me dead in the eye. “Agreed. If you ever cheat on me, I will cut off your dick and shove it down your throat.”
The visual shouldn’t make me smile, but it does. “I don’t fucking see other women.”
“Who knows how many of us there are resembling your––”
“No one resembles you,” I say, resolve coating every letter.
That seems to appease her, and she sighs, “I have no right to feel like this, but it bothers me.” She clamps her mouth shut as if she can’t believe she said that.
“Why?”
She bites her lip and shrugs. “I don’t like to be in the shadow of anyone else.”
“You outshine everyone and everything else.”
I know what she wants to ask me next, and I breathe a sigh of relief when she doesn’t. Neither of us is ready for the answer.
Her finger dances on the rim of the glass. “Are you trying to charm me, husband?”
Fuck, it does things to me when she calls me that. I think it’s her subconscious claiming me. Reminding me who I belong to when I have only ever been hers.
“Is it working?”
“Is it?”
I lean over the table, smirking. “Oh, wife, when it’s payback time, I’m going to make you lose your mind.”
Her mouth parts, a gasp rolling out of those luscious lips. Eyes locked, I don’t know which of us imagines the scene unfolding more. I am so lost in her that I don’t even notice the server appear.
Clearing his throat, he breaks the spell. Zara startles, shifting in her seat as if caught doing something wrong.
I cast an angry look his way, and he sets the second course in front of us before rushing off.
We eat in silence for a few minutes, but the longer she spends trapped in her head, the worse it will be for me. “You feel this between us too. It’s been clear from the start. The chemistry. The connection.”
She chews slowly, giving me the impression she’s ruminating on her answer, and my eyes follow the delicate line of her neck.
“I won’t deny that you’ve intrigued me. But don’t you think it’s strange how we’ve been grieving for years, holding on to our loved ones, yet we forget them more with each passing day?”
“Living means moving forward. I’ve been waiting for you.”
“I didn’t peg you as a romantic guy.”
“Live with me, Zara. I promise you the world and swear my future to you. But what I can give you with absolute certainty is the present.”
“It sounds simple, doesn’t it? Yet it’s the hardest thing you could ask of me.” She offers me a meek smile and returns to her plate.
By the time dessert is served, she has finished her third glass.
“This is so good,” she says, licking her lips.
Instant lust coils through me, and I shift in my seat, wishing I could be the one tasting her instead.
“There’s more at home,” I say, the echo of a promise ringing between us.
“You have good taste.”
“Of course.”
“So cocky,” she says, her pupils dilating.
She’s giving me that come-hither look, and I would love nothing more than to indulge it. My body has no morals and doesn’t care, but I do. She’s wanting me, all right, and I am dying to ease both our needs, but I only have one chance to do this right.
“I miss you,” she rasps, the words hitting me with the force of a confession.
As humiliating as it might sound, losing control right here is a valid possibility.
“You’re tipsy. It tells me you’re nervous. It tells me that while you want to let go, you need alcohol for that. This is not how this is going to work.”
Her lips pull into a cute pout. “I am fully capable of deciding.”
I drag a hand down my face, groaning. “Tell me that in the morning, and I will give you everything you ask for.”
She mumbles something unintelligible and huffs. My refusal is unusual, but we’re both navigating the new reality of our relationship—even more intense and combustible, with a dash of recklessness fueling the obsession.
“Fine, then I want to accompany you.”
“Zara, that’s not a good idea.”
She waves me off, unimpressed. “I want to see you in your element.”
What if that triggers her? She hated violence, but now it’s like she craves it. To test me, to test herself—I don’t know.
“It’s not my element; it’s part of being the Boss.”
My men need to know their places. That’s why I am the one dealing with traitors. Fear is better than love when ruling the underworld.
“I’m interested in your methods.”
“Do you think I would let anything happen to you? I would kill anyone who even looked at you with ill intentions.”
She shrugs. “If someone wants to get to you, they will find a way.”
The flippant way in which she says it unsettles me.
“Danger is an occupational hazard of our jobs, Vian. We’re not immortal.”
Bending over the table, I grip the back of her neck and bring her face an inch from mine. “You will stay alive even if I have to destroy the world.”
“Why?” she whispers, her eyes turning glassy.
Because you are my fucking world, my entire life and sole reason. I don’t say any of that because she’s still at the beginning of our relationship while I’ve already lived the end once. “I don’t like losing what’s mine.”
Disappointment pulls at her features, but it’s her silence that guts me.
After finishing dessert, I guide her back to the car, undecided whether to bring her with me or take her home.
I glance at her and find a resolute expression staring back at me.
In the underground garage, I swipe my key card, and the elevator descends to a basement floor that is not mentioned anywhere in the building’s blueprints.
She stares wide-eyed at the stainless-steel room inside.
The three men are in cages, rattling the bars, but they won’t yield.
They could never find their way out. Once the cages open at their backs, they will crawl farther into my lair—a designated space where the walls move, creating a labyrinth.
And they will be trapped inside with me.
My enforcers emerge from the shadows, bowing their heads to my wife, knowing she is an extension of me and must not only be respected but protected at any cost.
“Good job.”
They nod and leave us with them.
One of them sees her and bares his teeth at her. “It will be so fun to break your cunt as he watches how I spunk all over you, bitch.”
Silence speaks louder than any threat, and I will take my sweet time with him. From experience, the biggest talkers are usually the biggest cowards.
“With that tiny dick? I’m used to so much more,” she says, inspecting her manicure in a show of insolence that enrages him further.
“You bitch. I’ll show you tiny dick.”
“Please,” she says with a smile, reaching out in one quick move. Gripping his hair, she bashes his face against the bars, splitting his lip. “Let me see what my husband will start chopping off first.”
It happens so fast that he looks shell-shocked when she releases him. He stumbles back, blood trickling down his chin. She’s magnificent—elegant like a panther and just as lethal.
Good God, I think I’ve fallen in love with her anew.
“Where can I watch from?” she asks, and I show her the door set into the wall across the room.
Once she’s inside, I approach the cage. “You wanted to steal from me. You wanted to claim what is not yours and never will be.” I click my tongue. “That has a price.”
It’s not as fun playing with someone who has no hope. Hunting implies the prey believes it has at least a chance to escape.
“If you find the way out, you’re free.”
The one who threatened my wife looks gobsmacked. Even the stupidest men have a self-preservation instinct.
“I give you my word.”
I press the button on the side. The doors swing open, and the three cockroaches scamper in different directions. While they indulge in the illusion of escaping my wrath, I press a panel on the wall, revealing an arsenal of weapons. I pick up knuckle bars, a gun, and a dagger, preparing to hunt.
The intricate labyrinth hides a plethora of dangers, sensors activating walls that switch to thick, spiky wires.
I hear the first man hissing and follow the sound.
A piece of his shirt clings to the tip of a spike, and I find him in a dead end, pacing and grabbing his hair like the cornered animal he is.
I make no sound as I approach him, and in one rapid move, I wrap my hand around his neck and dig the dagger into his side, twisting the knife. He howls in agony, painting a smirk on my face.
I shove him off, and he slides from the blade, clutching the oozing wound as he thumps to the ground.
I stare at him for a few seconds as he gurgles on blood. Red surrounds him like a bloody Pollock painting.
“Rest in hell, asshole.”
Moving to the next one, I play with his mind, tiptoeing and then thudding. He snaps his gaze around like a headless chicken.
“Where am I?” I ask, breathing against his neck before retreating, letting the walls swallow me again.
“Show yourself, you fucking coward.”
He’s the one shouting in fear, yet he’s insulting me. I guess I do have a petty streak because I sprint to him and snap his neck.
He drops to the ground, lifeless, blank eyes staring back at me.
What is Zara thinking? That one question haunts me as I hunt the last of the pack.